“Oh, God.” This is our fault. Tug’s and mine. I stand up, clutching my hands to my stomach. I look over my shoulder at Tug. “We did this.”
Tug’s hand slides around my waist. He tries to hold me. I resist. I don’t want his comfort. I don’t deserve it. He sighs. “I’ll take you to Andrew.”
I shake my head. Tears and snot cover my face. “He doesn’t want me there.”
Tug tucks some hair behind my ear. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to me. I take it and wipe my face. “No, but he needs you there.” His even tone soothes me. I want to go.
I nod in agreement, my head cloudy. I’m in a daze. This can’t be happening. Tug tucks me into his car.
When he gets in the driver’s seat, I turn to him and say, “Why’d you come back?”
He frowns and starts the car. “For you.”
Chapter 28
Tori
The ride to the hospital is quiet, besides my constant sobbing.
We rush through the emergency room doors. Tug asks the woman at the desk if they brought Andrew here. She explains that he was taken by helicopter to Children’s Hospital in San Diego.
We turn to leave and come face to face with Brady. They must not have let him ride in the helicopter. No one says a word. We don’t have to. Instead, we walk to Tug’s car. I squeeze into the back seat before Brady climbs into the passenger side. The tension closes in around us until I’m suffocating. Boarder traffic isn’t bad, but merging onto the I-8 is dead stopped. Tug whips over into the breakdown lane and takes off. He flies into the parking lot and stops in front of the emergency room doors. Brady leaps from the car before it’s stopped without waiting for me.
I climb out and bend down to look at Tug. “Are you coming?”
“No.” His eyes stay focused on the front window.
“Thanks for bringing us.” I close the door. The tires squeal as he tears out of the parking lot. I race inside. The torment on Brady’s face is agonizing as I watch him pace frantically in the waiting room. I have nothing to offer him. He doesn’t want my comfort. He probably doesn’t want me here at all. This is my fault, and if Andrew doesn’t recover, I will never forgive myself.
Brady
His tiny limp hand in my palm doesn’t feel right. There’s no life. The doctors say the prognosis is grim. I wish they would just have the balls to say it: “Your son is going to die.” That, I understand.
Nurses talk with each other about how lucky Andrew is that his bodily injuries weren’t more substantial. He has a broken arm, and some internal bruising, which should heal quickly if his brain recovers. That’s the problem. He’s not lucky. The trauma to his brain is significant. No one knows why he won’t wake up. There are no answers. It’s a waiting game to see if he pulls through or not. It’s torture.
My eyes burn. Tears fall, but I don’t feel them. My heart is empty.
I hear the door open, but I don’t turn around. I know it’s not her. I can tell by the footsteps.
“Hey, I just wanted to check on you.”
I turn my head to Gabe and nod. He’s doesn’t need to check on me. I’m dead. He sits in a chair near the wall. His elbows rest on his knees with his hands folded.
“I saw Tori outside. Is everything okay with you two?”
“No.” I’m short with him. I don’t want to talk about her.
“Do you love her?”
What the fuck? I sigh and run my hands through my hair as I look at him. “She did something, and I don’t want to discuss it.”
He leans forward. “I didn’t ask you to. I asked if you love her?”
I turn my head and look at the tubes running out of Andrew’s nose and mouth. I want to hate her. I can’t forgive her, but I love her. “Yes.”
He’s quiet for several minutes. His eyes roam around the room. I can tell he wants to say something, but he’s searching for the words.
“I loved my girl, too. She was sick. We thought she had a cold. After a few days she made a doctor’s appointment. ” He shrugs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No big deal, right? They’ll give her antibiotics, and she’ll be fine.” I watch him intently, listening to his pain. “She and I had been through some things. We had an argument the day of her appointment.” He pauses and runs his thumbs under the bottom of his eyes. “Before she left, I told her I was done. While she was gone, I packed her stuff and put it in the front room before I left so I wouldn’t have to see her again.”