"Oh, that's right," Patrick said. "Where is the boy?"
"He had classes," I said.
Patrick's lips twitched. "You don't have classes, do you, Gabriel? Of course not. Because you are an adult." He looked at Ioan. "A grown member of society, with a respectable job and a legal source of income."
"From what I hear, I wouldn't call all of it legal."
"Good God," I muttered. "Just go. Both of you."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ricky had said that hypothermia causes mental confusion. I was sure I'd be using that as an excuse for any less-than-brilliant choices over the next month, but one sign that I was still suffering from some lingering effects is the fact that I endured that day in the hospital with minimal complaint.
To say I hate hospitals is an understatement. It had always seemed a bizarre and groundless fear for a healthy kid. Then I discovered I'd been born w
ith spina bifida--the condition my mother's murders had cured. I'm sure I spent a lot of time in hospitals over the first two years of my life, and I'm sure little of it was pleasant.
Knowing the cause of a phobia does not resolve it, though. At first, waking in the hospital, I'd had a general sense of anxiety. Even that ebbed and flowed as I talked to Gabriel and Ricky, then Patrick and Ioan. As the day wore on and the meds wore off, the more anxious I got, until the nurse came to check on me and I mentioned the possibility of a discharge before nightfall. She left, laughing.
Gabriel watched her go, and then got to his feet. "I'll fix this."
"No," I said. "She's right. I'm in no shape to look after myself."
"I can do that."
"You've done enough. More than enough. I'll spend another night and--"
"You don't want to be here," he said as he walked to the door.
And that was the sum of the argument. I didn't want to be in the hospital, so he would make sure I wasn't, even if it meant taking care of me himself.
He jumped into the river to save me.
I still struggled to understand that. Patrick had said it, and Gabriel hadn't argued, which meant it was true.
You fell off the bridge. So I fixed that.
I wanted to acknowledge what Gabriel had done, if it's possible to truly thank someone for saving your life. But at worst, he'd find some excuse to leave until I got over all that emotional nonsense. At best, he'd remind me of the times I'd risked my life for him, and I didn't want that, either, because it made this a repayment of debt. He didn't stand on that bridge and make a conscious decision to erase an obligation by jumping in after me. If he had, he certainly wouldn't have ducked the subject when Patrick brought it up.
Gabriel returned to tell me I'd been discharged. I had to sign something acknowledging that I was leaving against the doctor's orders, but otherwise I was free to go.
I was thrilled. Someone else was not.
"You are leaving against doctor's orders," Ricky said when I called to tell him. "Do you get that?"
"Of course--"
"No, I don't think you do, Liv. You want out. Badly. I understand that. But you nearly drowned. You suffered from hypothermia and a concussion. You didn't wake up for thirty hours. You can't walk out of the hospital on day one."
"Technically, it's day two."
As soon as I said that, I regretted it. He was seriously concerned for me, and I was making jokes.
"I--" I began.
"I get it," he said. "Gabriel gives you what you want, and I have to play the heavy, the guy who--" He inhaled sharply. "No, I'm not going to...Hell, yes. Yes, I am, because I'm pissed, Liv. Gabriel is being irresponsible. He's giving you what you want because you want it, and that's all that matters."
I'll fix this for you.