Broken Knight (All Saints High 2)

“You set me up for this,” I accused. “You gave me a family you knew was temporary.”

“Newsflash, Knight. Life is temporary. Your mom could’ve been perfectly healthy and gotten run over by a truck ten years ago. Just because you take life for granted doesn’t mean it is.”

“Okay, Oprah. Spin this shit to suit yourself.” I laughed bitterly, turning away and starting for the nearest door before we both exploded.

By the way my father’s face had morphed from angry to shocked, I gathered my diplomatic skills were lacking while under the influence. The nurses clapped our shoulders, ushering us down the hallway.

“Emotions are running high, gentlemen. We understand this, but you need to take it outside. Get some fresh air. Calm down. We’ll let you know if there’s any change.”

Any change? What did they mean, change? I let my legs carry me to the balcony off the first floor of the hospital. Dad and I stood outdoors, ignoring the drizzle. He shook his head, staring up at the black sky, letting the rain pour down on his face. He closed his eyes, looking half-dead. He raked his fingers through his hair and a chunk of it was left between his fingers. Jesus.

“You’re an asshole for reducing Luna to being just a girl,” I muttered, fishing for my phone in my pocket.

Dixie again. I killed the call.

Why can’t you die, Dix? Why does it have to be Rosie?

“You’re an asshole for judging your mom for having you and Lev,” Dad retorted, pacing.

I wondered what the fuck was going on, but didn’t want to ask, because I knew he wouldn’t give me a straight answer.

“I’m going to see her.” I tested the water, pretending to make my way to the door. Dad curled his fingers around my bicep, pulling me back.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?” I gauged, assessing him coldly.

I was getting tired of being strong. Being indifferent. Being someone I wasn’t.

He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut. “Because she’s in a coma.”

Know how sometimes people say their entire world crumbled? I never quite understood what they meant until this moment. The moment where everything in my life shattered, collapsing one brick at a time. I toppled backward, my back hitting the wall, then slid down until my ass hit the damp ground. Dad stood in front of me, his head hung between his shoulders—a lowered, defeated flag. I immediately knew this wasn’t about my drinking or the drugs. Neither Dad nor Mom knew the extent of the trouble I’d gotten myself into this year.

This is about Mom.

“How?” I heard myself asking.

“They put her in a chemically induced coma for her end-stage cystic fibrosis.”

“When?”

“Earlier today.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice escalated into a scream.

“So, what? You’d fly back home thinking about it the entire time? Her hooked up to a ventilator, dying?”

“Dying?” I realized I sounded like a dumbass, but couldn’t help it.

What was I expecting to happen? For her to walk swiftly out of this place? Maybe do cartwheels all the way to the parking lot? It was too late for a lung transplant, too late for experimental treatments, too late, period.

Dad shook his head. It occurred to me that I needed to be there for him like he was there for me. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even breathe. I shook my head, stood up, and stalked back into the ICU, slapping the glass door, flinging it open. I could hear Dad’s footsteps following me.

I took out my phone, ignoring the five missed calls from Dixie, and texted Luna.

Knight: My mom is in a coma.

Her answer came not even a minute later.

Luna: On my way.

A bottle of whiskey.

Two more Xanax.

One Adderall because I needed to concentrate on shit in class. (See? Responsible adult.)

That was basically my menu for Monday, as Dad hurled me into Vaughn’s car and insisted I go to school. I fought him on it. Of course I did. What kid goes to school when his mom is in a coma?

“This one does.” Dad slammed the passenger door in my face, ignoring Vaughn, and Hunter in the back seat. “It’s chemically induced. We have the situation under control. Show up to class, do your best, come back here, and we’ll see her together.”

I opened my mouth to argue again, but clamped it shut when Hunter, behind me, said, “We’ll take good care of him, sir.”

“Hunter…” Dad dug his fingers into his eye sockets. “No offense, but I wouldn’t trust you with an ant. Unfortunately, I have my plate full right now. Just go.”

The entire way to school, Vaughn stole glances at me with his slanted, icy-blue eyes. I realized things were dire when even he was on his best behavior. Dude didn’t do pity and didn’t cut corners. He had a mean streak a mile long and never missed an opportunity to kick you while you were down.