Chapter 6: Private Room
1129 Words
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Private Room*
The private room smelled like lemon disinfectant and the faint metallic tang of blood that never really leaves hospitals.
It was 2:17am.
Lorenzo had been moved out of ICU two hours ago. One bed. One chair. One window that looked out over the city lights.
And one very pissed-off Malia who was not supposed to be there.
*Elena* stood with her arms crossed at the foot of the bed. The thermos from earlier was now on the side table next to a bag of fruit, a blanket, and a rosary.
“You stay,” Elena said. No question. “You watch him.”
“I’m not a nurse,” Malia said.
“No,” Elena agreed. “You’re the reason he has stitches. So you stay.”
Lorenzo was half-asleep. But his good eye opened at that.
“Elena,” he rasped. “Don’t.”
“I’m not leaving you with strangers, mijo,” Elena said. Then she looked at Malia. “5 hours. Then Mateo takes over. If you leave, I tell the doctor you pulled his IV out.”
Malia stared at her. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” Elena said, and walked out.
The door clicked shut.
Silence.
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*HOUR 1: THE TV REMOTE*
Malia dropped into the plastic chair. Arms crossed. Eyes on the door, not him.
Lorenzo shifted. Winced.
“Water,” he said.
Malia grabbed the cup, helped him sip, set it down harder than necessary.
He reached for the remote on the bedside table.
Malia snatched it first.
“I was watching that,” Lorenzo said.
“There’s nothing on,” Malia said. She flipped it to a news channel. A report about “dockside shooting, 2 injured, police investigating.”
Lorenzo clicked his tongue. “Scott. Change it.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What should I call you? Malia? Too soft.
Malia changed the channel to a crime drama. “Happy?”
“No. I hate crime dramas.”
“Then sleep.”
“Can’t. Shoulder hurts.”
Malia sighed and threw a pillow at his good side. “Here. Lean.”
He caught it. “Bossy.”
“You’re welcome.”
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*HOUR 2: THE BLANKET WAR*
The hospital AC was freezing.
Malia pulled the thin blanket from the chair around her shoulders.
Lorenzo was shivering under his hospital blanket too.
“Cold?” Malia asked, not looking.
“Freezing, Cole.”
“I’m not giving you mine.”
“Didn’t ask.”
Ten minutes later his teeth were chattering.
Malia cursed under her breath and stood up. She grabbed the extra blanket Elena left and threw it over him. It landed half on his face.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, muffled.
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I won’t.”
He tugged the blanket down. Their fingers brushed on the edge.
Malia pulled back like she’d been burned.
Lorenzo watched her. “You’re still shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
Malia sat back down and stared at the ceiling. “Can you not talk for five minutes?”
“Can you not pretend you don’t care for five minutes?”
She didn’t answer.
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*HOUR 3: WHY "SCOTT"*
Lorenzo was awake. Of course he was awake.
“You always do this,” he said suddenly.
Malia: “Do what.”
“Push. Then pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I’m not pushing.”
“You took a bullet for me at the docks,” Lorenzo said. “In your head.”
“I did not.”
“You shot back. For me.”
“I shot back because Aidin was trying to kill us both,” Malia said. “Don’t make it about you, Reyes.”
“It is about me,” Lorenzo said. Quiet. “After us. That’s what you said.”
Malia’s jaw tightened. “I said that to piss Aidin off.”
“Bullshit.”
Malia stood up and started pacing. 3 steps to the window. 3 steps back.
“Stop calling me Scott,” she said.
“Why.”
“Because it sounds like you own me.”
“I don’t,” Lorenzo said. “But I’m not letting him have you either.”
Malia stopped pacing. “Damian is waiting at home.”
“Damian can wait forever.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I do if you choose me,” Lorenzo said.
Malia laughed. Sharp and humorless. “I don’t choose people, Reyes. People leave. Or they die. Or they become Don Cole.”
Lorenzo didn’t say anything to that.
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*HOUR 4: THE TEXT*
Malia’s phone buzzed on the chair.
She didn’t want to look.
It buzzed again.
And again.
Finally she picked it up.
*Unknown:* `Room 412. Private wing.
1 guard. Mateo’s outside smoking.
You’re not as safe as you think, little sister.
Choose Damian. Choose home.
48 hours.
-A`
Malia’s blood went cold.
She deleted it immediately.
Lorenzo was watching her. “What.”
“Nothing.”
“Malia.”
“Don’t Malia me,” she snapped. “You’re the one who got shot because of me.”
“I got shot because I chose to,” Lorenzo said. “Same way you chose to stay.”
Malia threw the phone on the chair. “This is stupid. I should go.”
“Go where,” Lorenzo said. “Back to Don Cole? To Damian?”
“I don’t know.”
Lorenzo shifted, pushed the button to raise his bed an inch. Pain flashed over his face but he didn’t make a sound.
“Sit,” he said.
“No.”
“Sit, Scott.”
Malia sat.
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*HOUR 5: 5AM*
The sky was starting to turn gray outside the window.
Mateo knocked once and peeked in. Hair messy. Eyes tired.
“Shift change,” he said. “You look like hell, Cole.”
“Thanks,” Malia said.
He glanced at his phone. *Diana: 3 missed calls.* He silenced it. “I got him. Go sleep.”
Malia stood up. Legs stiff.
At the door she paused.
Lorenzo’s eyes were closed. But he said, without moving:
“After us.”
Malia didn’t turn around. “Go to sleep, Reyes.”
“Choose me tomorrow too.”
Malia left.
In the hallway, Elena was waiting with coffee.
“How is he,” Elena asked.
“Annoying,” Malia said. “And alive.”
Elena handed her the coffee. “Good. That’s all that matters.”
As Malia walked to the elevator, her phone buzzed one last time.
*Unknown:* `I see you left. Smart girl.
Clock’s ticking.
After us.`
Malia gripped the coffee cup until her knuckles went white.
*TO BE CONTINUED...*
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