I’ve only had to sit in an ER waiting room once in my eighteen years.

It was Christmas Eve, and one of my younger cousins had tried walking down the stairs in my grandmother’s house by herself. She was only three and a half, and she thought that she was going to miss Santa Claus if she didn’t hurry home. I was nine at the time, and while we waited, though we knew she would be alright, (it was only a sprained ankle and a serious bump to the head) I remember looking up at my grandmother and saying, “Do you think time always moves at the same speed? Like, when you’re listening to a really good song in the car – it goes by so fast. When something bad happens though, everything seems to last too long.”

We know now that, like my cousin, Charlie will be okay. Mark, Casey, Mason and I can sit contently in the waiting room, until we’re able to see him again. We’re lucky.

Still, I feel as though I’ve spent weeks in this uncomfortable chair, and it seems impossible that I touched him only hours ago.

After my wistful remark, my grandma smiled down at me, her wiser grey eyes meeting mine – young and curious – and she said, “I’ve noticed that, too. I think we’re supposed to use the added time to be thankful for the good moments, during the bad.”

I decide to take her advice. I spend as much time as possible being thankful for every good moment that Charlie and I have spent together – which has been nearly all of them. Then, in an attempt to bargain with time, I think about all of the good things we could do together, if we’re given the chance.

“Do you feel better now, Stella?” Mason asks with a smile as he takes his seat next to me, after leaving to find the restroom.

“I do,” I smile, “I’m sorry for crying so much on the way here, that’s really embarrassing,” I look between Casey and Mason as I speak. Mark hadn’t witnessed my episode, since he’d ridden in the ambulance with Charlie.

Mason just smiles up at me, and Casey shakes her head, regretfully, “We were all worried. You didn’t overreact.”

Mark has been quiet, sitting away from the three of us. When we’d first arrived, he’d kept his face buried in his hands for so long that I truly thought he was asleep.

He finally lifts up from his chair and motions to Casey to follow him. I assume he has a lot to explain, and is probably painfully remorseful – Charlie is like a son to him. As they walk off, down the hall, Mason and I are left alone, and I somehow feel relief.

“I suppose I should be asking if you’re okay, not the other way around. It was you who called the police, right? You’re very brave.”

“I’m not brave at all,” Mason bites his lips and kicks his feet, which only touch the ground by his toes, “It was me who called Charlie, too. Please don’t be mad,” He looks up at me with troubled eyes, welling with tears, “I’m sorry, I was just scared and I didn’t know how long the police would be. I knew Charlie would be fast and –“

“It’s okay,” I say, shaking my head and furrowing my brow. I hug Mason suddenly, allowing him to cry into my shoulder. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s apologizing because he thinks I’ll blame him for Charlie’s injury.

“He’s glad you called. I’m glad you called. None of this is your fault at all.”

He pulls away after a moment so he can speak, wiping his eyes as he collects his voice.

“I think they would’ve hurt my dad really bad, if Charlie hadn’t been there so fast. I could hear everything. My mom kept trying to cover my ears, but I could still hear.”

Mason takes a deep breath before he continues, “I was afraid they were going to hurt her too – my mom. She wasn’t with me at first, when I made the phone calls; she was trying to help my dad. One of the men made her leave the room, and she found me.”

While he speaks, he watches his feet swing below him. Then, he looks up at me again, and lowers his voice.

“Charlie would never let anything happen to you. I wish my mom had someone like that.”

“She does,” I answer in a hushed tone, “He’ll always be there for you both.”

Casey returns, taking a seat beside Mason, and tells him that Mark has just stepped out to take a phone call. Upon his return, it is evident that he has been crying.

Without intending to eavesdrop, I hear Casey and Mason discussing where they’ll be staying tonight. Mason is adamant that he still does not want to return to his own house tonight. Casey is understanding, but insists that she hasn’t yet phoned her sister, and would rather not bother her with the situation until morning. Mark tries to pretend that he can’t hear them, but as he rubs his eyes and blinks back tears, I’m sure that he can.

“Why don’t you just stay at Charlie’s?” I interrupt, “I could sleep back at my dorm tonight.”

I’m sure I won’t be sleeping much tonight, anyway.

“Oh, are you sure you don’t mind the company? No need for you to stay in the dorms, Mason and I can just sleep on the couch again. We can all ride back together, after we know everything’s alright here.”

With a nod, I start to answer, but am interrupted by a doctor who has come to give us news on Charlie. She acknowledges Mark first, recognizing him from Charlie’s arrival, I suppose, but turns towards me before speaking, smiling sympathetically.

“Hi, you’re all here for Charlie Alexander?”

We nod in unison.

“He is going to be just fine, but we’re moving him into a wing of the hospital and keeping him overnight. We want to be cautious. You all can visit him now, if you’d like.”

As we’re all standing, slowly, yet anxiously, Casey says to me in a quiet voice, but loud enough for Mark to hear, “We’ll just say hello, Stella, then you can say bye to him alone. Mason and I will wait in the car for you.”

Even in a hospital bed, Charlie looks strong. I guess I’d expected him to look more fragile, but he doesn’t at all. His eyes meet mine as soon as I enter the room, and he grins. I smile back before looking towards my feet, as if I’m giving him permission to acknowledge his other visitors. I walk immediately to the side of his bed, while Casey begins to speak to him. He looks at her, responding promptly to her questions, but reaches for my hand as I near him.

Our fingers lace, and our grip on each other is tighter than usual. I study him as he speaks calmly to Casey. Somehow, he’s managed to get out of wearing a hospital gown, and instead wears a black t-shirt that I assume Mark must have brought along, because it doesn’t fit like his usual shirts. There is a noticeable tenseness in his bones and expression, but he still makes me feel safer than anything else.

Watching him, how he answers Casey and responds to the doctor, I feel as if I’m being let into a part of him that explains more to me than he could with words. Charlie is uncomfortable being taken care of – needing to be helped and watched over. I think about the times when he is most relaxed, most content.

I think about the way his arms wrap around me when he’s dressed me in his clothes to keep me warm; the satisfaction in his smile when he thanks me for complimenting food that he’s made me; how his body relaxes when he knows that I’ve nearly drifted into sleep against his chest. He is very good at taking care of me – of others, in general; he isn’t very good at accepting care from others.

It could be yet another reason why he’s chosen to be a fighter – alone in a ring, defending his titles and his excellence. He is still proving to himself that he doesn’t need to be taken care of – that he is enough.

“Okay, well, Mason and I are going to go heat up the car. Thank you, Dr. Gaines. Charlie, feel better sweetie, and thank you so much,” Casey nods towards me as she exists, and mouths something about waiting. Mark lingers for a moment, staring off in the direction of his wife and son’s exit, his face pale and sorrowful. Then, he leaves without a word.

The doctor smiles warmly at us both before speaking, her voice smooth and kind, “I’ll give you guys a moment.” And then she is gone as well.

“Charlie –“ I start, sitting down on the small bed beside him.

“Stella, I’m fine. Mark and Casey overreacted. I would have been fine, and I could be home with you right now,” he smirks.

“Charlie, Casey told me that you were stabbed,” my voice raises at the end out of annoyance at his downplay.

“Barely,” he claims, “It was hardly worth a trip to the hospital.”

I sigh heavily, as if I’d been holding my breath all evening. Charlie notices and reaches for my cheek.

“You know I don’t like you to worry about me,” his voice is soft as his hand brushes down my cheek and neck, and then gently rubs my shoulder.

“I don’t care if you don’t like it. You are a hypocrite if you expect me not to worry about you, and you’re also resenting in vain.”

“I know,” he removes his hand from my shoulder and laces his fingers in mine again, “But I want you to trust me, that I can take care of myself.”

I don’t respond, but look down at the sheet that covers his torso.

“Where is it?” I ask, referring to his wound.

“Here,” His hand moves to his hip, right beside me.

I shift a bit, but he wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me back, without moving the rest of his body.

“You don’t need to be careful with me, Stella.”

I almost want to yell at him that I’ll be as careful as I please, and to stop acting invincible; I don’t want to fight him though, especially not tonight. I lean down, resting my chest against his and folding my arms under my chin. I am careful not to brush up against the area that he pointed to.

“I wish you could come home. You don’t mind if I stay at your house still, do you? Casey and Mason are staying there with me.”

“Of course I don’t mind, baby.”

One of his arms is bent above and behind his head as he stares down at me. With his other hand, he brushes my hair back and then continues to run his fingers through it.

We talk for a few more minutes, before I assert that I’ve kept Casey waiting too long.

Charlie kisses me, and tells me that he loves me as I stand up from the bed.

“I didn’t mean to not say it, by the way. Before you left – I didn’t mean to not say ‘I love you’ back. I was afraid the whole time you were gone, because I hadn’t said it. I love you,” I blush a little at my own rambling.

“Are you positive you don’t want the bed? There are two of you, I feel terrible leaving you both on the couch.”

“Stella, we’re fine. I promise! We’re both short. This couch gives us plenty of room,” Casey says, earning a nod in agreement from Mason.

“Okay,” I smile, thankful that I’ll be in Charlie’s bed tonight, even if I’m alone, “I’m going to make some tea before bed I think, do either of you want anything?”

“Do you think I could have some hot chocolate?” Mason pipes up.

“Do you really need that before bed?” Casey asks, plopping down onto the couch that is now made with blankets and pillows.

“I’ll still be able to sleep,” he promises. I wonder if he really means “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight anyway.”

I involuntarily reach over and push my hand through Mason’s hair on our way to the kitchen. He just turns his head slightly and attempts a smile.

“Will you be okay tonight? Do you need anything, besides the hot chocolate?”

I feel so sorry for Mason. He is too young to have witnessed what happened tonight – which even I don’t know the extent of.

“I’ll be alright,” He climbs up onto a bar stool as I round the kitchen island to start making my tea and his hot chocolate.

“No, I’m okay. I have been through this before,” He says quietly.

I look up at him as I pour milk into a tupperwear container. He is staring down at his lap, and doesn’t look up as he speaks again, “I’ll feel better once my parents are talking again. Once my mom forgives my dad, I’ll feel like I can too, and I’ll be fine.”

After Mason and I have our respective, warm cups, we walk back into the living room, where Casey is watching television comfortably on the couch, patting Cooper’s head.

She turns to look at me as Mason sits down beside her and thanks me for making him the drink.

“It’s nothing,” I smile, “Do you all need anything else?”

“Nope, we packed everything we need for the night. Thank you again for letting us stay here, it will be much easier for me to explain this all to my sister tomorrow. She’ll panic less.”

“I understand,” I say.

“Are you going to pick Charlie up in the morning?”

“I am. He’s going to call when they tell him he can leave.”

Casey nods.

“Did anyone call his family? His aunt and uncle, do they know?” I had intended to ask earlier in the night.

“Mark did. He knows them well. Charlie will call them tonight too, I’m sure. They were worried, but they say maybe he’ll follow through with looking into school now that he’s injured. They’ve always wanted him to continue his education, you know.”

“You think his injury will keep him from boxing? I didn’t even know he was considering school…”

“You didn’t know?” Casey asks, surprised, “Well, they made it seem like you were the reason. I’m sure you are.”

“So do you think he will still go to New York?” I ask, not sure if Casey is aware that I’m going, too.

“I’m sure he won’t cancel the trip, he is scheduled to train people there, isn’t he? I wouldn’t think he should box though. But what do I know?” she giggles a bit and turns back towards the television.

I say goodnight, insisting that they wake me up if they should need anything, and letting them know what time I’ll be awake in the morning, before calling Cooper to my side and heading off to bed.

I hold Charlie’s usual pillow close to me as I fall asleep. Without his fingers running through my hair, or his hand rubbing down my back, or the rise and fall of his chest and his warm skin to lull me to sleep, my mind wanders.

I wonder about New York, and whether or not Charlie and I will still be making the trip. I wonder if Charlie will insist on fighting, even if it isn’t best for his healing. Then, I wonder about his future as a boxer, and about the information that I’ve been relayed about Charlie considering school.

I should be happy, I suppose. But under the circumstances, I am fully and completely consumed by the desire for him to be in good enough health to decide exactly what it is that makes him happy, and not have to change course because of terrible men whom he shouldn’t have been bothered by anyhow.

I spend a moment then, being thankful for the fact that he wasn’t hurt worse. Then, I go back to wondering about his future. I’m interrupted soon, by an incoming text: a goodnight from Charlie.

I don’t have to wonder about our future. I will love him through anything.