Boys Like You

The hospital was quiet when we arrived, with only a few cars in the parking lot and even fewer on the street outside. The rain had stopped, but the humidity hung in the air like a thick blanket, covering everything in gray mist.

Monroe slid into a parking spot behind a truck—the Lewises’ truck—and that sick feeling in my gut churned hard. I didn’t know if I had the balls to do this. I thought of the last time I had come here—of the anger that lived inside Trevor’s dad—and despite Brenda’s plea for me to come, I wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t kick my ass on sight.

Maybe it’s what I wanted.

Maybe I’d let him.

My cell vibrated, and I yanked it from my jeans. It was a wonder the stupid thing still worked, considering it had been wet for hours.

It was my mom. I’d finally sent her a text letting her know I was all right and that I was with Monroe. I told her that I was going to the hospital and that I didn’t know when I would be home. I glanced down to read her text.

I love you. So does Trevor.

Shit. My eyes burned again and I pocketed the cell, breathing out hard.

“Hey,” Monroe said softly. “Are you ready?”

No.

“Yeah.”

She leaned toward me and pressed her mouth to mine. It was just a soft touch, but I tasted the salt from her tears, the warmth of her soul, and the depth of her emotions. I felt that kiss all the way inside me where it settled next to my heart.

This girl had every part of me. Every single part.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, pulling back as that sick feeling heaved inside me again. “Because I don’t think I could do this by myself.”

She threaded her fingers through mine and squeezed my hand. “You’re not alone, Nathan. Not anymore.” She angled her head, her hair still wet and sticking to her neck. “I’d like to meet Trevor now.”

She stared at me, her clothes wrinkled—my T-shirt two sizes too big—and I thought that she was the most perfect creature I’d ever seen.

“Trevor would have thought you were the coolest thing ever.”

“I’m counting on it,” she said slowly and then opened her door.

Less than five minutes later, we stood on the fifth floor, and the fear that had been dodging me all day was back, and it was back hard. I dropped Monroe’s hand and shoved my own deep into the pockets of my jeans, avoiding the curious gazes from the nurses behind the station.

“Can I help you?”

The tall one came around the desk, eyebrows arched as she waited for us to answer.

“I…” Shit, my voice sounded worse than when I was twelve and it started to change. I cleared my throat, my gaze moving past the nurse to where Trevor’s room was.

“Nathan’s here to see his friend, Trevor Lewis,” Monroe said.

The nurse’s eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head, her eyes never leaving me. A moment passed. And then another.

My heart sank, because I saw the recognition in her eyes. She knew who I was. The screwup who was responsible for Trevor being here. There was no way she was going to let me walk past the damn desk.

What the hell had I been thinking?

“He needs to see Trevor,” Monroe said forcefully. “You have to at least let him try.”

“Honey, I don’t need to do anything,” the nurse replied, her hands now on her hips as if she’d made it her own personal mission to keep us away.

“Brenda…” I looked her in the eye. “Brenda Lewis, his mom, told me to come by when I saw her today. She said that he might…” I rolled my shoulders and tried to keep it cool. “She said that he might not make it ’til morning.”

Shit. Hearing those words was tough; saying them was even tougher.