When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)

I clutched the edge of the seat, tears of relief and remorse stinging my eyes. I’m sorry, River. So sorry…

Jerry’s face crumpled and he put a hand to his chest. “Oh my God…oh thank God. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“We haven’t ruled out every danger to come. Certainly headaches, dizziness, perhaps numbness or impairment on one side.”

Jerry’s eyes widened. “He’s a football player. A quarterback. One of the best. He’s going to the University of Alabama this fall…”

Dr. Stansfield held up a hand. “It’s too soon to know the extent of his injuries, but the MRI has me optimistic.”

“I want to see my son.”

The doctor nodded. “We prefer family only, but if it’s okay with you, Mr. Whitmore, you both can visit for a few minutes.”

Jerry patted my arm. “It’s okay with me.”

Inside the ICU, Stansfield led us into a horseshoe-shaped ward. Nurses’ stations were set up in the center while rooms ringed the perimeter. We stepped inside Room 3. River was lying motionless on a bed. Machines that monitored his pulse and oxygen levels beeped on the walls. IVs trailed out of his right arm; his left was wrapped from hand to elbow and held in a sling. The gash on his brow had been sewn up and covered with white gauze, and a nasal cannula fed oxygen to his nose.

Jerry sucked in a small breath, and Dr. Stansfield smiled gently.

“I’ll give you a few minutes.”

He left and Jerry approached his son slowly, carefully, as if he were afraid of moving or speaking too loudly. I staggered backward until my legs hit a bench built into a window. I sat down hard, while dawn’s first rays lightened the sky behind me.

“Hey, River. How you doing, son?” He took River’s slack right hand in his. “You’re going to be okay. I know it. You’re so strong…” He lowered his head to River’s hand and sobbed. “Oh, my boy…”

My stomach heaved; I would’ve thrown up had there been anything left.

Jerry sat with River for a few minutes, then pulled himself together. He wiped his eyes and turned to me. “I have to call a family friend who’s staying with us. I need to let her know that he’s going to be okay. His mom will be so worried. Will you stay with him while I step out? So he’s not alone?”

I nodded and my heart broke into smaller pieces as the man smiled at me. And that brave, kind smile was the same as River’s.

Jerry patted his son’s hand and got up. At the doorway, he pressed his cell to his ear.

The beeping of machines filled the room. I peeled myself off the bench and moved to River’s side. His pale face was unmoving, his features more still than in sleep. I would know. I’d seen him sleep a hundred times. His face on my pillow…

“You have to survive this, River,” I whispered, wanting to take his hand but not letting myself. I didn’t deserve to touch him. “You have to pull through and live a full, real life. You can’t let me do this to you, do you hear me?”

At the door, Jerry had wrapped up his call and was conferring with the doctors again. The mood was lighter; smiles came easier. The worst danger was over.

Time to go.

I stood up and leaned into River. Beneath the smells of the hospital, of antiseptic and gauze, was him. Warm and clean. “River… I—”

Jerry returned and I jumped back from the bed as if he’d shocked me.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Oh, okay. Well, thank you again—”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. If he thanked me one more time, I was going to scream. “I’m so sorry. Tell him…when he wakes up, tell him I’m sorry.”

I backed away from Jerry’s confused expression, maneuvering toward the door, through the waiting room, out of the hospital and into the early morning light that was gray and flat.

My phone chimed a text from Miller. Let’s roll.

He was back from Los Angeles and needed Ronan and me to kick his mom’s abusive boyfriend out of their apartment. The night was over. Done. I had to push it all down and be there for my friend. I could help him. Be of use. Do this one last thing, and then I could do what I should’ve done sooner.

Disappear.