Taking the Handoff, page 18
I nod in agreement.
“Well, I know a little something about fucking up with a woman and saying shit I didn’t mean.” He looks at me knowingly and reminds me of how he messed up with Gina.
“How’d you fix it? I feel like I can’t go home until I know how to approach Emma.”
“Honestly? I fought like hell for her. I got my head straight and worked through my shit. It didn’t happen overnight, and I’m lucky she even gave me a second look after I messed up with her, but I make sure she never questions how much I love her. I don’t just tell her every day, I show her.”
“Emma doesn’t know.”
“That you love her?”
I nod. “I’ve never said it, let alone felt it for a woman. My parents’ marriage was a disaster. I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually fall in love after watching them constantly tear each other apart. I didn’t even think love truly existed.” A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “But I never stood a chance with Emma. It’s impossible not to love her.”
I never meant anything to you.
It was never real.
I was just convenient.
Her words stab at my heart. She thinks she didn’t mean anything to me when the reality is she means more to me than anyone else in my life.
Even more than Drew.
She’s everything.
I feel sick to my stomach knowing she thinks she’s anything less than my whole fucking world.
I have to tell her I love her.
I have to fight for her and show her.
Maybe someday Drew will forgive me, but all that matters now is Emma’s forgiveness.
I can’t live without her.
Thirty-Three
The door slams, and I hear Luke’s car pull out of the garage. I desperately wish I could stop the tears, but it feels like my heart’s been ripped out and nothing will ease the pain.
I’m so fucking stupid.
Of course Drew was right. He knows Luke. And Luke didn’t dispute a single word I said downstairs.
Reality crashes down on me, and I start sobbing so hard I can barely breathe. My legs give out underneath me, the emotional weight of everything literally bringing me to my knees. God, this hurts so much worse than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know how long I sit there crying, but everything hurts when the tears finally subside, and the house is still quiet, so I know Luke hasn’t come back home yet.
What am I going to do when he comes back? I can’t stay in this house with him. I can hardly stomach the idea of looking at him after what just happened.
Maybe I can stay with Bernie and double down on finding a new apartment within the week. I’d stopped looking when Luke and I got together, but clearly that was a mistake. All I know is I have to leave before Luke gets back.
I pick up my phone to text her, but it vibrates in my hand with a call from my mom instead.
Seriously? What did I do to piss off the universe so badly? Can’t a girl catch a break? I’m not emotionally strong enough to handle a lecture from her telling me how much I don’t live up to their standards.
I get it. I’m not enough. That’s been made painfully clear tonight. I don’t need another reminder.
I hit decline and shoot a text to Bernie, knowing if I call her, she probably won’t answer because she hates talking on the phone. She texts me back almost immediately.
Bernie: Of course, hun. You’re always welcome. Luke’s a dumbass. I’ll cue up a Harry Potter marathon just for you.
Remarkably, her words bring a smile to my face. But then my mom’s name flashes across the screen again, immediately wiping any traces of my smile. I haven’t talked to my mom since I left Seattle. Why does she have to call me tonight of all nights?
I ignore the call again and throw my phone on my bed. I grab a couple of suitcases from my closet and frantically start packing. I have no plans to come back here, so I need to pack as much as I can. I’ll have Luke send the rest of my stuff when I get a place so we don’t have to actually talk to each other again.
My phone buzzes repeatedly on my bed as I pack until I can’t take the incessant interruption. Why can’t my mom just let me be miserable in peace? It’s like she’s got some fucked up radar for when life is beating me down and she needs to add in her two cents.
“What?” I yell into the phone, my patience completely tapped.
“Emma—” My mom’s sob instantly changes my mood.
“Mom? What’s going on?”
“It’s D-Drew,” she cries into the phone. “He was in an accident.”
All the blood drains from my face as my butt falls to the bed. “What?”
“He was driving home from the gym and someone T-T-boned h-him,” she stutters before sobbing uncontrollably.
No.
I’ve already lost Luke. I can’t lose my brother.
“Is he okay?” Fear grips my heart, waiting for her response.
She sobs again, and I hear muffled noise before my dad gets on the line, his voice more tired and defeated than I’ve ever heard it. “Emma?”
“Dad, is Drew okay?”
“We don’t know yet. It…it wasn’t good, Emma. There’s a lot of damage. He’s in surgery now, but they won’t tell us much.”
My teary gaze lands on the suitcases already packed on my bed, and it becomes clear to me what I should do. I’ve already lost my music, and now I’ve lost the only man I’ve ever been in love with. There’s really nothing keeping me in LA anymore.
“I’m coming home. I’ll get the first flight to Seattle and call you with the details.”
I disconnect the call and immediately text Bernie.
Me: Hey, there’s been a change of plans. I need to go to the airport.
* * *
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
“Emma.” My mom’s whispered voice jars me awake.
“Ow.” I wake with a jolt and immediately rub the kink in my neck, the result of sleeping in a chair with my head bent at an uncomfortable angle. My concerned gaze immediately looks around my mom to Drew’s hospital bed, relief coming quick when I see he’s still breathing.
He’s alive.
He got out of surgery right after I got to the hospital. I managed to catch the last flight of the night to Seattle out of LAX. My parents had a car waiting for me, and since it was the middle of the night, it was a quick drive to the hospital.
Drew has four broken ribs, one of which punctured his lung, a broken arm, and a concussion from whiplash. He also suffered some spinal damage that they need to assess once he wakes up to determine if he’s paralyzed or will just need extensive physical therapy. They not only had to repair his lung, but also surgically repair his ribs due to the level of damage.
The doctor said he’s lucky to be alive, especially given the fact that the driver’s side was hit. My parents tried to convince me to go home and rest, but I refused to leave his side. The last time I spoke to Drew he was angry with me. He said hurtful things, yes, but I know my confession also hurt him. The idea that I almost lost my chance to make it right makes me sick to my stomach. I won’t leave my brother. Not unless he kicks me out when he wakes up.
And probably not even then.
Security will have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming. Drew needs me, and I won’t leave him.
“Here, I brought you some breakfast,” Mom says, handing me a breakfast burrito.
“Thanks.”
She looks at me thoughtfully before placing a tender kiss on the top of my head. The gesture takes me by surprise. I can’t remember the last time my mom did anything tender where I was concerned. Normally, she just criticizes all my choices—my clothes, my weight, my choice in career. I’m amazed she brought me a breakfast burrito instead of a banana since she’s always thought I should take dieting more seriously.
I don’t know who this woman is, and she’s starting to freak me out. She hasn’t said one cutting remark since I got here last night.
My gaze lands back on Drew’s prone body in the hospital bed. I guess nearly losing one of her children put things in perspective for her.
I know nearly losing Drew did for me at least.
The events of yesterday feel like they happened so long ago or to someone else. I still feel the sting of heartache when I let Luke infiltrate my thoughts, but I try to shut those down as quickly as possible.
“Any change?” I ask her before taking a small bite of my burrito. My appetite has been non-existent since I got the call about Drew’s accident, but I know I need to eat.
She shakes her head, her eyes never leaving Drew’s body. “The doctor said it could be a while. It’s up to Drew now. But he said everything looks good so far, all things considered, so we shouldn’t worry yet.” She scoffs, “Easier said than done.” Her voice cracks, and tears well in her eyes before spilling down her cheeks.
For the first time, I notice she’s not wearing any makeup, her normally impeccable complexion blotchy and red. She’s wearing a loose gray sweater and jeans—designer, but still different than her outfits of pantsuits or her scrubs and white lab coat. I didn’t even know she owned a pair of jeans.
“It’s different being on this side of things.” Her voice is quiet, reflective. I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything, afraid any words from me might cause criticism that I’m not in the mood for.
“You take it for granted—that your child is safe and healthy. It’s so easy to live in that bubble where you feel like nothing bad could ever happen to you. As doctors, we were trained on how to approach families when their loved ones are hurt or worse. It’s so easy to be detached when it’s not your family member. I never…” She shakes her head, her eyes continuing to spill tears that cause my own eyes to water in sympathy. “I never realized how hard it was for the family. How helpless you feel when you can’t do anything to save your own child. You never think it could happen to you, but then it does, and suddenly nothing makes sense in the world, but at the same time things seem clearer than ever.”
She brushes aside a few of her tears, but it’s a useless gesture as more stream down her face. She finally turns to me. “I’m so sorry, Emma. We’ve always been so hard on you, and really we should’ve just been grateful you’re happy and healthy.”
My own tears fall harder in a silent torrent down my face, my breath frozen in my lungs, all my childhood pain just below the surface.
“I’m so, so sorry, honey. I love you so much. You know that, right?” Her eyes plead with me.
“I’m never going to be the perfect child you wanted. I’m never going to be a size two or dedicated to a job that you approve of like Drew.” I can’t tell her that my music has shriveled up inside me and I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back. I can’t tell her I’m lost and heartbroken and may end up working in corporate America after all because I don’t know what else to do.
So instead of giving her hope that I’ll suddenly turn into the daughter she’s always wanted, I try to see if she really loves me as the daughter I am.
“I know, Emma. And while your father and I wish you were pursuing a career that would be more stable and financially sound, I can understand your passion for music. Drew explained it to us.” She rolls her eyes at herself. “God, he explained it so many times I’ve lost count.” She looks back over at his still body, then back at me. I swear this is the first time my mom has seen me. Like really seen me. “I get it now,” she says softly, but with a hint of urgency, like she hopes it’s not too late to salvage our relationship.
Maybe it’s not. Only time will tell.
I nod, afraid to say anything that might ruin this moment. My mom reaches out and grabs my hand, clasping it tightly in hers.
A groan from the bed instantly pulls both of our attention. Without thinking about it, I jump up from my chair and rush to Drew’s bedside, gripping his hand gently in mine, careful of the scrapes and bruises that are already discoloring his face and arms.
“Drew? Drew, can you hear me?”
He turns his head toward my voice, letting out another groan and opening his eyes, squinting against the dim overhead light. “Emma,” he says hoarsely.
“I’ll go get his doctor,” my mom says as she rushes out the door.
“Drew,” I whisper, my voice tight with barely restrained emotion—okay, let’s be real, all of the emotion. Tears blur my vision as I grip his hand a little tighter. “I thought I lost you.”
In more ways than one.
“What happened?” His scratchy voice makes my heart ache.
“Here, let me get you some water.” I turn to the tray where we’ve kept a pitcher of water, mostly for ourselves while we waited for Drew to wake up, and pour him a glass. Using a spare straw that a nurse left with the pitcher, I place it in front of his mouth and help him grasp the straw with his lips and take a sip.
When he’s had enough, he drops his head back to the pillow, his eyes wincing in pain at even that tiny movement. “What happened?” he asks again, his voice less scratchy than before.
“You were in a car accident. Someone T-boned you.”
“Everything hurts.”
I reach for his hand again, needing the warmth to reassure me I’m not dreaming. My brother’s okay. “You almost died,” I say, my voice whisper soft.
He doesn’t speak, and by the time the doctor comes in, he’s fast asleep again.
An hour later, he wakes again, much more alert but still in pain. The doctor examines him thoroughly and reassures my parents and me that he doesn’t appear to have any sustaining damage. He’ll need physical therapy, but he’s not paralyzed. He got lucky.
“Ideally, he should have someone staying with him since he’s going to need some assistance for the next few weeks. Does he have anyone?”
My mom and dad both look to each other before my mom replies, “He can move back in with us while he’s recovering.”
Drew groans and stares unseeingly at the ceiling. Yeah, I bet that idea sounds about as appealing as a root canal.
“I can stay with him.”
Drew’s head immediately shifts, his eyes staring at me, searching.
“What about LA, honey?” my mom asks.
“I’m moving back to Seattle.”
Drew frowns at me but doesn’t say anything. My mom turns to him. “Drew, would that work for you?”
I’m on pins and needles waiting for his response. I get the sense my parents don’t know anything about my argument with Drew right before his accident or the fact I’ve been dating his best friend behind his back for the last month. If he says no and shuts me down, not only will I have to go back to living with my parents, but I’ll also have to explain why my brother, who’s always been my biggest defender, doesn’t want me anywhere near him.
“Yeah, that works for me.”
My eyes widen, and my mouth parts in surprise. I honest to God expected him to shut that idea down.
Drew and I stare silently at each other, our eyes both questioning, while my mom turns to the doctor. “Great. When can he be discharged?”
My parents both converse with the doctor, who’s also a friend of theirs, getting all the details about Drew’s recovery plan. I break the silent stare-off and listen to the recovery instructions since I’ll be the one taking care of him.
After the doctor leaves, my mom walks over to Drew and bends down, placing a tender kiss on his head. “We’re going to go pick up some dinner for you that tastes better than this hospital food.”
Drew offers her a relieved smile. “Thanks, Mom.”
My mom starts walking to the door where my dad is waiting for her, but then turns back when she realizes I haven’t moved. “Emma, are you coming with us?”
“Actually, Mom, I was hoping Emma could stay and keep me company.”
She gives him a soft smile. “Of course, honey. We’ll get you both some food and be back soon.”
As soon as the door closes, my gaze slides to Drew, his green stare already locked on my face, a slight furrow to his brow.
“You’re moving back?”
I shrug and break our eye contact, hoping I can hide the true depth of my heartbreak for a little longer. “There’s nothing for me in California.”
The silence settles heavily in the room. I finally cave and glance up at Drew to see him watching me with such concern and sadness that my invisible heartbreak tugs at my chest. My eyes sting with tears I fight back like my life depends on it.
His jaw moves side to side before he asks softly, “What about Luke?”
Hearing his name feels like a stampede of elephants is running rampant on my insides, that pesky organ, my heart, its primary target.
I take a deep breath, trying to fortify myself so I can actually speak, but emotion clogs my throat, and no words will come.
Why does getting your heart broken feel so physically painful? Why does it gut you and make you feel like you just got hit by a ten-ton truck that came back for another pass—or forty?
But I guess when you give someone your whole heart, it makes sense that the rest of your body will feel the pain of that loss. It’s a vital organ that’s essentially been ripped out, or that feels like it has at least.
I wonder if you can ever fully recover from that kind of pain. Or will you always be just a little less than you were before?
Forever doomed to be a little bit broken and missing a piece of yourself.
“Emma?”
“I can’t.” I choke out the words, my pleading gaze snapping up to his, the tears I’ve worked so hard to fight back streaming down my face.
Drew doesn’t ask about Luke again. Instead, he watches me the rest of the night, through dinner with our parents, and the rest of visiting hours before they finally kick us out. Now that he’s awake, they won’t let me stay by his side.
I ride in the back of my parents’ car, watching the typical Seattle rain come down in torrents and the streetlights flash as we drive past, all the while the concern in Drew’s eyes haunting me. Sooner or later, he’s going to ask me again about Luke. I know my brother. He’s not just going to forget about everything that happened before his accident.
“Well, I know a little something about fucking up with a woman and saying shit I didn’t mean.” He looks at me knowingly and reminds me of how he messed up with Gina.
“How’d you fix it? I feel like I can’t go home until I know how to approach Emma.”
“Honestly? I fought like hell for her. I got my head straight and worked through my shit. It didn’t happen overnight, and I’m lucky she even gave me a second look after I messed up with her, but I make sure she never questions how much I love her. I don’t just tell her every day, I show her.”
“Emma doesn’t know.”
“That you love her?”
I nod. “I’ve never said it, let alone felt it for a woman. My parents’ marriage was a disaster. I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually fall in love after watching them constantly tear each other apart. I didn’t even think love truly existed.” A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “But I never stood a chance with Emma. It’s impossible not to love her.”
I never meant anything to you.
It was never real.
I was just convenient.
Her words stab at my heart. She thinks she didn’t mean anything to me when the reality is she means more to me than anyone else in my life.
Even more than Drew.
She’s everything.
I feel sick to my stomach knowing she thinks she’s anything less than my whole fucking world.
I have to tell her I love her.
I have to fight for her and show her.
Maybe someday Drew will forgive me, but all that matters now is Emma’s forgiveness.
I can’t live without her.
Thirty-Three
The door slams, and I hear Luke’s car pull out of the garage. I desperately wish I could stop the tears, but it feels like my heart’s been ripped out and nothing will ease the pain.
I’m so fucking stupid.
Of course Drew was right. He knows Luke. And Luke didn’t dispute a single word I said downstairs.
Reality crashes down on me, and I start sobbing so hard I can barely breathe. My legs give out underneath me, the emotional weight of everything literally bringing me to my knees. God, this hurts so much worse than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know how long I sit there crying, but everything hurts when the tears finally subside, and the house is still quiet, so I know Luke hasn’t come back home yet.
What am I going to do when he comes back? I can’t stay in this house with him. I can hardly stomach the idea of looking at him after what just happened.
Maybe I can stay with Bernie and double down on finding a new apartment within the week. I’d stopped looking when Luke and I got together, but clearly that was a mistake. All I know is I have to leave before Luke gets back.
I pick up my phone to text her, but it vibrates in my hand with a call from my mom instead.
Seriously? What did I do to piss off the universe so badly? Can’t a girl catch a break? I’m not emotionally strong enough to handle a lecture from her telling me how much I don’t live up to their standards.
I get it. I’m not enough. That’s been made painfully clear tonight. I don’t need another reminder.
I hit decline and shoot a text to Bernie, knowing if I call her, she probably won’t answer because she hates talking on the phone. She texts me back almost immediately.
Bernie: Of course, hun. You’re always welcome. Luke’s a dumbass. I’ll cue up a Harry Potter marathon just for you.
Remarkably, her words bring a smile to my face. But then my mom’s name flashes across the screen again, immediately wiping any traces of my smile. I haven’t talked to my mom since I left Seattle. Why does she have to call me tonight of all nights?
I ignore the call again and throw my phone on my bed. I grab a couple of suitcases from my closet and frantically start packing. I have no plans to come back here, so I need to pack as much as I can. I’ll have Luke send the rest of my stuff when I get a place so we don’t have to actually talk to each other again.
My phone buzzes repeatedly on my bed as I pack until I can’t take the incessant interruption. Why can’t my mom just let me be miserable in peace? It’s like she’s got some fucked up radar for when life is beating me down and she needs to add in her two cents.
“What?” I yell into the phone, my patience completely tapped.
“Emma—” My mom’s sob instantly changes my mood.
“Mom? What’s going on?”
“It’s D-Drew,” she cries into the phone. “He was in an accident.”
All the blood drains from my face as my butt falls to the bed. “What?”
“He was driving home from the gym and someone T-T-boned h-him,” she stutters before sobbing uncontrollably.
No.
I’ve already lost Luke. I can’t lose my brother.
“Is he okay?” Fear grips my heart, waiting for her response.
She sobs again, and I hear muffled noise before my dad gets on the line, his voice more tired and defeated than I’ve ever heard it. “Emma?”
“Dad, is Drew okay?”
“We don’t know yet. It…it wasn’t good, Emma. There’s a lot of damage. He’s in surgery now, but they won’t tell us much.”
My teary gaze lands on the suitcases already packed on my bed, and it becomes clear to me what I should do. I’ve already lost my music, and now I’ve lost the only man I’ve ever been in love with. There’s really nothing keeping me in LA anymore.
“I’m coming home. I’ll get the first flight to Seattle and call you with the details.”
I disconnect the call and immediately text Bernie.
Me: Hey, there’s been a change of plans. I need to go to the airport.
* * *
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
“Emma.” My mom’s whispered voice jars me awake.
“Ow.” I wake with a jolt and immediately rub the kink in my neck, the result of sleeping in a chair with my head bent at an uncomfortable angle. My concerned gaze immediately looks around my mom to Drew’s hospital bed, relief coming quick when I see he’s still breathing.
He’s alive.
He got out of surgery right after I got to the hospital. I managed to catch the last flight of the night to Seattle out of LAX. My parents had a car waiting for me, and since it was the middle of the night, it was a quick drive to the hospital.
Drew has four broken ribs, one of which punctured his lung, a broken arm, and a concussion from whiplash. He also suffered some spinal damage that they need to assess once he wakes up to determine if he’s paralyzed or will just need extensive physical therapy. They not only had to repair his lung, but also surgically repair his ribs due to the level of damage.
The doctor said he’s lucky to be alive, especially given the fact that the driver’s side was hit. My parents tried to convince me to go home and rest, but I refused to leave his side. The last time I spoke to Drew he was angry with me. He said hurtful things, yes, but I know my confession also hurt him. The idea that I almost lost my chance to make it right makes me sick to my stomach. I won’t leave my brother. Not unless he kicks me out when he wakes up.
And probably not even then.
Security will have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming. Drew needs me, and I won’t leave him.
“Here, I brought you some breakfast,” Mom says, handing me a breakfast burrito.
“Thanks.”
She looks at me thoughtfully before placing a tender kiss on the top of my head. The gesture takes me by surprise. I can’t remember the last time my mom did anything tender where I was concerned. Normally, she just criticizes all my choices—my clothes, my weight, my choice in career. I’m amazed she brought me a breakfast burrito instead of a banana since she’s always thought I should take dieting more seriously.
I don’t know who this woman is, and she’s starting to freak me out. She hasn’t said one cutting remark since I got here last night.
My gaze lands back on Drew’s prone body in the hospital bed. I guess nearly losing one of her children put things in perspective for her.
I know nearly losing Drew did for me at least.
The events of yesterday feel like they happened so long ago or to someone else. I still feel the sting of heartache when I let Luke infiltrate my thoughts, but I try to shut those down as quickly as possible.
“Any change?” I ask her before taking a small bite of my burrito. My appetite has been non-existent since I got the call about Drew’s accident, but I know I need to eat.
She shakes her head, her eyes never leaving Drew’s body. “The doctor said it could be a while. It’s up to Drew now. But he said everything looks good so far, all things considered, so we shouldn’t worry yet.” She scoffs, “Easier said than done.” Her voice cracks, and tears well in her eyes before spilling down her cheeks.
For the first time, I notice she’s not wearing any makeup, her normally impeccable complexion blotchy and red. She’s wearing a loose gray sweater and jeans—designer, but still different than her outfits of pantsuits or her scrubs and white lab coat. I didn’t even know she owned a pair of jeans.
“It’s different being on this side of things.” Her voice is quiet, reflective. I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything, afraid any words from me might cause criticism that I’m not in the mood for.
“You take it for granted—that your child is safe and healthy. It’s so easy to live in that bubble where you feel like nothing bad could ever happen to you. As doctors, we were trained on how to approach families when their loved ones are hurt or worse. It’s so easy to be detached when it’s not your family member. I never…” She shakes her head, her eyes continuing to spill tears that cause my own eyes to water in sympathy. “I never realized how hard it was for the family. How helpless you feel when you can’t do anything to save your own child. You never think it could happen to you, but then it does, and suddenly nothing makes sense in the world, but at the same time things seem clearer than ever.”
She brushes aside a few of her tears, but it’s a useless gesture as more stream down her face. She finally turns to me. “I’m so sorry, Emma. We’ve always been so hard on you, and really we should’ve just been grateful you’re happy and healthy.”
My own tears fall harder in a silent torrent down my face, my breath frozen in my lungs, all my childhood pain just below the surface.
“I’m so, so sorry, honey. I love you so much. You know that, right?” Her eyes plead with me.
“I’m never going to be the perfect child you wanted. I’m never going to be a size two or dedicated to a job that you approve of like Drew.” I can’t tell her that my music has shriveled up inside me and I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back. I can’t tell her I’m lost and heartbroken and may end up working in corporate America after all because I don’t know what else to do.
So instead of giving her hope that I’ll suddenly turn into the daughter she’s always wanted, I try to see if she really loves me as the daughter I am.
“I know, Emma. And while your father and I wish you were pursuing a career that would be more stable and financially sound, I can understand your passion for music. Drew explained it to us.” She rolls her eyes at herself. “God, he explained it so many times I’ve lost count.” She looks back over at his still body, then back at me. I swear this is the first time my mom has seen me. Like really seen me. “I get it now,” she says softly, but with a hint of urgency, like she hopes it’s not too late to salvage our relationship.
Maybe it’s not. Only time will tell.
I nod, afraid to say anything that might ruin this moment. My mom reaches out and grabs my hand, clasping it tightly in hers.
A groan from the bed instantly pulls both of our attention. Without thinking about it, I jump up from my chair and rush to Drew’s bedside, gripping his hand gently in mine, careful of the scrapes and bruises that are already discoloring his face and arms.
“Drew? Drew, can you hear me?”
He turns his head toward my voice, letting out another groan and opening his eyes, squinting against the dim overhead light. “Emma,” he says hoarsely.
“I’ll go get his doctor,” my mom says as she rushes out the door.
“Drew,” I whisper, my voice tight with barely restrained emotion—okay, let’s be real, all of the emotion. Tears blur my vision as I grip his hand a little tighter. “I thought I lost you.”
In more ways than one.
“What happened?” His scratchy voice makes my heart ache.
“Here, let me get you some water.” I turn to the tray where we’ve kept a pitcher of water, mostly for ourselves while we waited for Drew to wake up, and pour him a glass. Using a spare straw that a nurse left with the pitcher, I place it in front of his mouth and help him grasp the straw with his lips and take a sip.
When he’s had enough, he drops his head back to the pillow, his eyes wincing in pain at even that tiny movement. “What happened?” he asks again, his voice less scratchy than before.
“You were in a car accident. Someone T-boned you.”
“Everything hurts.”
I reach for his hand again, needing the warmth to reassure me I’m not dreaming. My brother’s okay. “You almost died,” I say, my voice whisper soft.
He doesn’t speak, and by the time the doctor comes in, he’s fast asleep again.
An hour later, he wakes again, much more alert but still in pain. The doctor examines him thoroughly and reassures my parents and me that he doesn’t appear to have any sustaining damage. He’ll need physical therapy, but he’s not paralyzed. He got lucky.
“Ideally, he should have someone staying with him since he’s going to need some assistance for the next few weeks. Does he have anyone?”
My mom and dad both look to each other before my mom replies, “He can move back in with us while he’s recovering.”
Drew groans and stares unseeingly at the ceiling. Yeah, I bet that idea sounds about as appealing as a root canal.
“I can stay with him.”
Drew’s head immediately shifts, his eyes staring at me, searching.
“What about LA, honey?” my mom asks.
“I’m moving back to Seattle.”
Drew frowns at me but doesn’t say anything. My mom turns to him. “Drew, would that work for you?”
I’m on pins and needles waiting for his response. I get the sense my parents don’t know anything about my argument with Drew right before his accident or the fact I’ve been dating his best friend behind his back for the last month. If he says no and shuts me down, not only will I have to go back to living with my parents, but I’ll also have to explain why my brother, who’s always been my biggest defender, doesn’t want me anywhere near him.
“Yeah, that works for me.”
My eyes widen, and my mouth parts in surprise. I honest to God expected him to shut that idea down.
Drew and I stare silently at each other, our eyes both questioning, while my mom turns to the doctor. “Great. When can he be discharged?”
My parents both converse with the doctor, who’s also a friend of theirs, getting all the details about Drew’s recovery plan. I break the silent stare-off and listen to the recovery instructions since I’ll be the one taking care of him.
After the doctor leaves, my mom walks over to Drew and bends down, placing a tender kiss on his head. “We’re going to go pick up some dinner for you that tastes better than this hospital food.”
Drew offers her a relieved smile. “Thanks, Mom.”
My mom starts walking to the door where my dad is waiting for her, but then turns back when she realizes I haven’t moved. “Emma, are you coming with us?”
“Actually, Mom, I was hoping Emma could stay and keep me company.”
She gives him a soft smile. “Of course, honey. We’ll get you both some food and be back soon.”
As soon as the door closes, my gaze slides to Drew, his green stare already locked on my face, a slight furrow to his brow.
“You’re moving back?”
I shrug and break our eye contact, hoping I can hide the true depth of my heartbreak for a little longer. “There’s nothing for me in California.”
The silence settles heavily in the room. I finally cave and glance up at Drew to see him watching me with such concern and sadness that my invisible heartbreak tugs at my chest. My eyes sting with tears I fight back like my life depends on it.
His jaw moves side to side before he asks softly, “What about Luke?”
Hearing his name feels like a stampede of elephants is running rampant on my insides, that pesky organ, my heart, its primary target.
I take a deep breath, trying to fortify myself so I can actually speak, but emotion clogs my throat, and no words will come.
Why does getting your heart broken feel so physically painful? Why does it gut you and make you feel like you just got hit by a ten-ton truck that came back for another pass—or forty?
But I guess when you give someone your whole heart, it makes sense that the rest of your body will feel the pain of that loss. It’s a vital organ that’s essentially been ripped out, or that feels like it has at least.
I wonder if you can ever fully recover from that kind of pain. Or will you always be just a little less than you were before?
Forever doomed to be a little bit broken and missing a piece of yourself.
“Emma?”
“I can’t.” I choke out the words, my pleading gaze snapping up to his, the tears I’ve worked so hard to fight back streaming down my face.
Drew doesn’t ask about Luke again. Instead, he watches me the rest of the night, through dinner with our parents, and the rest of visiting hours before they finally kick us out. Now that he’s awake, they won’t let me stay by his side.
I ride in the back of my parents’ car, watching the typical Seattle rain come down in torrents and the streetlights flash as we drive past, all the while the concern in Drew’s eyes haunting me. Sooner or later, he’s going to ask me again about Luke. I know my brother. He’s not just going to forget about everything that happened before his accident.
