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Rose grabbed her purse and keys before speaking to the driver.
“Thank you. I’ll be back in a little bit,”
The driver nodded, already pulling out his phone.
“Ok, Ms. Landry, I’ll be here,” he said absently, pulling up the live stream of a basketball game.
Rose sighed. Men and their sports. Christ.
She stepped out of the car and put her sunglasses over her eyes, striding toward the entrance to the hospital.
Last night, she had been sitting in her hotel room watching Shane’s game on television when he got bodied by a huge guy on Boston. Marlow, or something. Shane went down like a lamp.
Rose watched with a lump in her throat and dread flooding her stomach as they wheeled Shane off the ice. She couldn’t believe how small he looked, lying there, unconscious. It made her sick.
That’s why she called the assistant director of the movie she was currently filming (some bullshit about shapeshifting? Lord knows she didn’t understand the plot) and said she was sick. And then she booked a flight to Montreal. And then got in a car. And here she was.
She didn’t even have to push very hard to know what hospital Shane was at, or what room. When she called ahead, she was initially faced with resistance.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the woman over the phone said in a bored tone, “we can’t release patient information to anyone who isn’t family.”
Rose covered the phone and sighed.
“Alright,” she said to herself. “Guess we’re playing this card.”
“I know, I understand.” She tightened her voice to make it sound like she was fighting tears. “It’s just— this is Rose Landry, and,” she sniffed dramatically. “I really need to see Shane,”
The woman on the other side of the line audibly gasped, before whispering (very loudly) to her coworker.
“Janine! It’s Rose Landry! Yes, that Rose Landry, what is wrong with you?? She wants to see Shane Hollander!! What do I do?”
Rose waited as more muffled squealing and discussing took place on the other side of the phone.
Three, two, one…
“Ok, Ms. Landry,” the woman said finally. Rose could hear the smile in her voice. “He’s staying in room 643. And can I just say, I’m such a huge fan—“
“Aww, thank you so much!” Rose said quickly. “You are a godsend. What’s your name?”
“Oh! Um, I’m Susan—“
“Well, Susan, you are the best. Thank you!” Rose waited to hear Susan squealing to her coworker again before hanging up. Fame really did have its benefits.
She walked into the bottom floor of the hospital, pressing the up button as she looked around. No one else was there. That was the way she liked it.
The elevator dinged, and she stepped forward, pushing the button for floor 6. The doors were just about to close when a hand reached between them to stop them.
Rose cringed. Great. It was probably someone who spotted her from the parking lot and followed her inside. Which pocket was her mace in, again?
But it wasn’t a weird fan waiting to corner her and ask for a selfie. It was Ilya Rozanov.
Sure, he was hiding behind his own sunglasses and a low baseball cap, but it was him. Rose was sure. She had just seen him on TV last night, standing over Shane with worry radiating off of him. Now she felt that worry first hand as he stood next to her, fidgeting and bouncing on his heels.
“Um,” Rose cleared her throat, and Rozanov finally looked at her. It was almost like he hadn’t noticed anyone else in the elevator at all until she said something. He was that freaked out and stressed.
“Ah, hello,” he said, his English perfect despite the Russian accent. “Miss Rose Landry,”
Rose nodded, smiling.
“Mr. Ilya Rozanov,” she greeted him. “I see we’re both wearing our invisibility sunglasses,”
Ilya laughed nervously, adjusting his sunglasses at the comment.
“Mm, yes. But I don’t see why you need them. Everyone expects you to visit Sh— Hollander, anyway.” He coughed.
Rose looked at him carefully before responding.
“I guess you’re right. Wouldn’t be surprising that he would be visited by… one of his friends,”
Rose watched intently as Ilya reacted to this statement. Friend. There was a big difference between ‘friend’ and ‘girlfriend,’ and Rose knew that. Her gut instinct had never failed her before, and she had a strong feeling that detail would matter to Rozanov.
She was right, of course. He pursed his lips a moment before nodding.
“Yes. Shane doesn’t have many friends. It is good. That he has you.”
Rose smiled.
“Right back atcha,” she said. “He’s lucky to have you, as well.”
“Mm,” Ilya hummed, still bouncing on the balls of his feet. The elevator dinged, and they were on the sixth floor. Ilya looked like he was going to be sick.
Rose took a breath before speaking again.
“Ah, shoot. You know what, I forgot something in the car. Why don’t you…” she gestured for the open elevator door.
Ilya nodded, striding out the door before she could say anything else, his hat low over his eyes.
But Rose didn’t return to the car. She stepped out of the elevator and waited a moment before following behind Rozanov.
Clearly, he too had been told the room number in advance, because he practically marched down to 643. Rose stayed a considerable distance away from him, but watched as he approached Shane’s door. He quickly removed his sunglasses and cap, shoving them into his coat pocket. Then he fixed his hair, mussing it with his hands, and took a deep breath. His hand was practically shaking as he reached for the door handle and slipped inside.
When Rose finally reached the door, she took a few steps back and stood behind some medical device no one was manning. This is how people must feel watching her act on TV. Captivated. Rose had to know what was happening in that hospital room. She was Shane’s best friend, after all. She didn’t think he’d mind if she watched a bit.
She couldn’t hear anything, of course, but she watched Rozanov cross the room after a minute, grabbing Shane’s hand and holding it.
Rose’s heart softened. So she was right. Per usual.
She continued to watch as Rozanov reach over and gently brushed his knuckles against Shane’s face. Shane was smiling so big, probably from whatever pain meds he was on, but his eyes were beaming as he looked up at Rozanov.
Rose smiled, looking away. It officially felt too intimate for her to watch this sweet exchange. She had seen enough. She knew what was up.
After a few minutes, a nurse went into Shane’s room. Rose had debated suddenly falling or pushing the machine she was perched behind to cause a scene, just so the nurse would stop and rush over to her and not into Shane’s room. She wanted them to have more time. But it was too late. The nurse went in, and Ilya walked out, sunglasses and hat in hand. Damn.
Rose watched as Ilya walked back to the elevator, donning his hat and glasses once again, and disappearing behind the heavy metal doors.
She finally made her way over to Shane’s room, gently knocking on the door before entering.
“Oh, Ms. Landry!” The nurse exclaimed. “How sweet of you to come!”
Rose smiled and nodded.
“Yes, well, I had to check on my Shane,” she said, up playing her ‘girlfriend’ act.
“Well, of course.” The nurse smiled at her. “I’ll leave you guys alone.” She practically giggled before exiting, and finally Shane and Rose were alone.
“Hi Rose,” Shane said in his high-on-pain-meds voice. “I didn’t know you’d be here,”
Rose sat on the edge of Shane’s bed.
“Well, here I am. How are you doing?”
Shane tried to shrug, and then realized that was not a good idea.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, his eyes unfocused. “You’re my second visitor of the day!” As soon as he said those words, his eyes widened and he brought a hand over his mouth. “I mean— um. You’re my first visitor of the day. That’s what I meant.”
Rose looked at him, nodding.
“Oh, yes. I understand.” She played along for his benefit, and he seemed to relax.
“Although,” she continued. “I thought I saw someone else in here before,”
Shane shook his head.
“No. Probably not. You’re wrong.” He insisted.
Rose shrugged.
“I don’t know, it kinda looked like Ilya Rozanov came to see you,”
Shane looked at her, reading her face. He waited a few seconds before responding.
“Oh. That.” was all he said, still thinking.
“He seemed really worried about you,” Rose added with a small smile. She hoped Shane could tell what she was saying through his meds.
Shane smiled.
“He was worried. I was going to text him last night, but…” he stopped. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He said mainly to himself.
Rose shrugged again.
“You don’t have to tell me anything.” She reassured him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Shane looked up at her with tears in his eyes.
“Ok,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
Rose squeezed his hand.
“Why don’t you rest now, ok? I just wanted to see you. I should probably get back to America soon.”
Shane nodded, but as Rose began to stand, he grabbed her hand tightly.
“Wait wait wait,” he said quietly. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Rose squatted down next to his bed.
“Ok,” she whispered back. “What’s up?”
Shane paused, taking a deep breath.
“I love him, Rose.” He said very seriously. “I love him.”
Rose smiled at him.
“Oooooooh, is that right?”
Shane nodded, a goofy smile spreading across his face.
“Yes!” He giggled. He literally giggled, and Rose was so surprised she had to giggle back. “I’ve never said that to anyone before,” Shane continued.
Rose smiled at him.
“Well, that’s lovely Shane.”
Shane nodded.
“It is lovely. HE is lovely. Lovely lovely lovely. Love. I love him,” he yawned, releasing Rose’s hand. “Ok,” he said in a louder voice, “I’m sleepy now.”
Rose patted his hand.
“Ok, why do you go to sleep? I’ll call you later, ok?”
Shane nodded.
“Okayyy. Thank you. For everything.”
Rose gave him a kiss on the forehead.
“Rest up, Shane. I’m always here for you,”
Shane hummed happily before closing his eyes. The last thing Rose heard before she left the room was him mumbling to himself.
“I love him. I love him so much.”