“I’m bored,” I said to him. “I think I have the beginnings of cabin fever; this room looks the same as my room in ICU.”
Elliot snickered. “D’ye wanna play a game on me phone?”
“What am I? Five?” I rolled my eyes, then after a few seconds I grumbled, “What games d’you have?”
He laughed again as he took out his phone and gave it to me. It was the first time I’d looked at it closely and it was one that I’d never seen before.
“What the heck is this?” I said, turning it over in my hands. “Is that three cameras?”
“It’s the new iPhone,” Elliot explained as he scratched his neck. “There’s been a bunch of upgrades since you last remember havin’ one.”
I blinked. “It’s fucking huge.”
“Tell me about it. Ye get used to it though.”
“I don’t have a phone, or at least not with me.”
“I’ll get ye a new one.”
I arched an eyebrow. “I can buy my own phone – or at least I think I can. I have no idea what my finances are like.” I paused. “Where do I live if not with you?”
Elliot leaned back in his chair. “With him.”
His mood changed like a switch had been flipped.
“You don’t like Anderson, d’you?”
“No, Noah. I don’t.”
“Because of me?”
He nodded and my belly erupted with butterflies.
“Are you . . . are you jealous of him, Elliot?”
He ground his jaw. “Yeah, I am.”
I raised my eyebrow but he said nothing else on the matter; he changed the subject instead.
“Did ye have Instagram when ye were twenty-four?”
“Obviously, but I hardly used it. I had nothing interesting to take pictures of.”
“The majority of people use it now,” Elliot assured me. “How else would people survive without takin’ pictures of their meals or lettin’ everyone know they’re in the gym?”
My brow furrowed. “Huh?”
“Never mind,” he chuckled. “Wanna get in a picture with me?”
My heart jumped. “I look disgusting.”
“Horse shite.” Elliot rolled his eyes. “Ye look beautiful.”
Pleased with the compliment, I looked away as I smiled with warm cheeks.
“Ye never could take a compliment without gettin’ all embarrassed.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled.
He smiled and took his phone from my hands.
“If ye don’t like the photo, I’ll filter it.”
“What will that do? I never liked any of the filters Instagram had.”
“Oh, honey,” he laughed. “There are likely seventeen thousand feckin’ filters out there now to choose from. They have apps to change the colour of your teeth, eyes, hair colour, smooth wrinkles; they can even change your face shape with the littlest tap of your fingers. No one actually looks like they do in their pictures on IG.”
That made me pause.
“D’you look like yourself in your pictures?”
“Me? Yeah. I don’t care about none of that bollocks, I like the way I look.”
“Me too.”
“Then take a picture with me.”
He was daring me; I could see it in his eyes.
I sighed, long and deep. “Don’t get me hair or stitches in it, and if I look sick, just delete it. Promise?”
With a roll of his eyes, he muttered his promise then leaned over the bed and held his phone in front of us. I stared at the camera lens instead of the screen. I pressed my face to Elliot’s and smiled, and he snapped the picture then stared at it for a few seconds.
“Are you gonna filter it?” I questioned. “If you are, get rid of any wrinkles I’ve collected over the last few years.”
Elliot either didn’t hear my teasing or chose to ignore me. He was staring at the screen of his phone, then he tapped on it a bunch of times and looked up at me.
“What’d you do?”
“Posted it and put it as my screensaver.”
“You’re so cute.”
I asked to see the picture and he showed it to me. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t love it either. I had seen my face in the mirror and saw my body whenever I looked down. What I thought was swelling from my accident wasn’t swelling at all. I had got fat. It embarrassed me, and while I hoped no one noticed, I knew they weren’t blind and could see the difference. I felt badly about myself, but when I went into Elliot’s Instagram account and saw the caption for his picture, I smiled.
“‘My sasanach’,” I read out loud. “I always loved when you called me that.”
Elliot took his phone back when a young nurse entered the room after knocking twice.
“Afternoon, Noah.” She smiled and nodded her head in greeting. “I’m Sara, I’ll be looking after you today.”
She moved her eyes to Elliot and did that thing a lot of women did when they saw him. They paused whatever they were doing – usually breathing, like this nurse did – then snapped back into focus when they realised he was real. Elliot was, without a doubt, gorgeous. The wife of one of Elliot’s friends once said that he looked like Thor with dark hair, and now that he was rocking a maintained beard, he definitely looked the part.
I’d never admit that he looked like Thor though; his ego would never deflate.
“Hello.” The nurse smiled at Elliot. “Are you Noah’s brother?”
Ouch. That was a kick to my confidence, I was sister-zoned based on my appearance. I didn’t hold it against the woman, I wasn’t at my best and Elliot was always at his.
“No,” Elliot answered, his deep voice making the woman bite her lower lip. “I’m her . . . person.”
I looked at him and smiled. He was definitely that. My person.
“Oh,” the nurse said, then cleared her throat. “Noah, how are you feeling? Do you need a top up on your painkillers?”
“I’m okay for now,” I answered. “The last dose still seems to be working.”
“Fantastic,” she said as she picked up my chart and made a note. “You’re doing beautifully – only ten days since you woke up from a coma and look at you, flying along.”
I was glad she thought so.
“I have a question.”
She put my chart back down. “Shoot.”
“Can I
