I leaned back against the pillows. That visit had been short, but it was enough to remind me that Natalie hadn’t changed. If anything, she’d just gotten more practiced at fishing for information without showing her hand.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of vitals checks, Tylenol, and short naps. At one point, I woke up to my phone buzzing. A text from Natalie.
Let’s get lunch soon. I have some ideas I want to run by you.
I didn’t answer.
By evening, I could sit up without feeling like my head would roll off. A tray of hospital food arrived—dry chicken, limp green beans, a square of something pretending to be cake. I ate what I could and pushed the rest aside.
The television in the corner played quietly. Some local news segment about a council meeting. I only half-listened until I caught Natalie’s face in the background of a shot, talking to a man I didn’t recognize. The caption didn’t say her name, but I knew that profile, that posture. It was probably nothing. Or maybe it was exactly the kind of investment meeting she’d hinted at earlier.
I made a mental note to keep my guard up.
Night settled over the city and the hospital wing got quieter. Denise came in one last time before her shift ended, making sure I had everything I needed. I told her I was fine. That was only partly true, but it was easier than explaining the mix of physical pain and mental chess I was playing.
I switched off the television and let the room go dark, the monitor’s steady beep marking the seconds. Somewhere in the building, a cart squeaked down the hall.
My eyes closed, but sleep didn’t come right away. Instead, the day replayed in pieces: Mark’s call, the house on the river, Natalie’s sunglasses pushed into her hair, and the look she gave me when I didn’t take the bait.
The first thing I registered in the morning was the stiffness in my shoulder and the dull ache in my ribs when I shifted. The hospital room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning.
A new nurse was on duty, a younger guy named Travis. He took my vitals and asked if I wanted breakfast. I told him I wasn’t hungry, which wasn’t entirely true, but the thought of the soggy eggs they served here didn’t help.
The doctor came in not long after. He said my scans looked stable, but with a concussion and a fractured clavicle, I wasn’t going anywhere yet. Two days minimum, maybe more if I showed signs of dizziness or nausea.
I nodded. I’d been through worse in the field, but hospitals weren’t exactly my favorite place to spend time.
Mark called midmorning. He kept his voice low even though he was in his office miles away.
“I heard about the accident. You okay?”
“I’m in one piece. Mostly.”
“That meeting we planned—no rush. We can do it when you’re out.”
“I’d rather not wait too long,” I told him. “I want those papers signed while I still control the timing.”
He understood. We agreed he’d come by the hospital with the documents in a few days if I wasn’t discharged yet.
I hung up and tried to focus on the mindless daytime television running in the background. That lasted about ten minutes before my phone buzzed.
A text from Natalie.
I’m tied up today, but I’ll check in later. Let me know if you need anything.
It was polite enough, but I knew better. If she brought anything, it wouldn’t be flowers. It would be questions.
By early afternoon, the meds had me dozing in and out. At one point, I woke to the sound of rain hitting the window. It made me think of Charleston streets flooding in heavy storms, water creeping up the curbs.
I was about to drift off again when I heard voices in the hall. A man’s laugh, then a woman’s reply. The door swung open.
It wasn’t Natalie.
It was Chief Boyd, wearing jeans and a polo instead of his uniform.
“Heard you were trying to get out of PT the hard way,” he said with a smirk.
I grinned despite myself. “Figured I’d take a vacation the only way the Air Force can’t argue with.”
He sat in the chair by the bed and glanced at the monitors. “You look better than the report made it sound.”
We talked for a while about people back at the base, a few harmless updates about upcoming deployments. He didn’t press about why I was really home, and I didn’t offer it.
Before leaving, he told me to call if I needed someone to run interference with curious relatives. That offer would turn out to be more useful than I realized.
After he left, the room felt quieter than before. The rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy. I shifted to reach for my water, and the movement sent a sharp bolt of pain through my shoulder. I set the cup down carefully, reminded that healing was going to take patience.
Around five, Travis came in to check my vitals again. While he worked, he asked if I’d heard from the police about the accident. I said no. He told me they’d probably want my statement soon.
It wasn’t until later, lying there with the lights dimmed, that I started replaying the crash in my mind. I remembered the green light, the blur of white on my left, the sickening sound of metal folding in on itself. I remembered trying to move my arm and the seat belt locking me in place.
Then there was the paramedic asking who to call. My choice in that moment said more than I’d realized. I could have said Natalie. I didn’t. I said Boyd.
That wasn’t just about the accident. That was about years of knowing who I could rely on and who I couldn’t.
And the truth was, Natalie had never been on the reliable list.
A light knock on the door pulled me out of it.
Denise, back for the night shift, peeked in. “Need anything?”
“I’m good,” I said.
She came in anyway, straightening the blanket and checking the IV line.
“You’ve got the look,” she said.
“What look?”
“The look of someone who’s realizing a few things about the people in their life,” she said, not unkindly.
I didn’t answer, but she wasn’t wrong.
Dinner was another forgettable tray—lukewarm pasta, a dinner roll, and something that might have been pudding. I ate enough to take with my meds and pushed the rest aside.
By the time the hall lights dimmed for the night, I was exhausted but not ready to sleep. My mind kept circling the same points: the accident, the inheritance, Natalie’s sudden interest in helping with investments.
The accident had taken me out of my plan to keep things low-key, but it hadn’t changed the fact that I needed to protect what was mine. If anything, it made that even more urgent.
I adjusted the bed to sit up a little, wincing at the pull in my shoulder. Outside the window, the streetlights reflected off wet pavement. Somewhere beyond them, the river ran past Aunt Evelyn’s house. Quiet for now.
The thought crossed my mind that it wouldn’t stay quiet for long.
The next morning started with the smell of overly strong coffee drifting in from the nurses’ station. Denise rolled in a vitals cart, humming something off-key. She checked my blood pressure and grinned.
“Looks like you’re stabilizing nicely, which means you’ll be getting more visitors.”
That was her way of warning me.
