Everything seemed to warp and slow. Noises were distant or fading in and out. I couldn’t think beyond the buzzing in my head.
Someone gently took my hand, and then their hands were on my face.
I looked down and found Lily, but struggled to speak. “I don’t—where—where’s Bella?”
“Bella is fine. A neighbor is taking care of her. We need to follow the ambulance.”
“I didn’t hear what hospital…”
“That’s okay. I did.” The calmness in her voice provided something to keep me from losing it. “Come on.”
Chapter 48
Lily
This isn’t happening.
The hospital corridor was quiet. Eerily quiet.
I stood by the vending machine, not really hungry or paying attention to what I had picked. I felt like I needed to be doing something. The lingering effects of a hangover weren’t making the knots in my stomach feel any better.
This isn’t happening.
A doctor marched through the double doors at the end of the corridor, but he walked right by us.
No news is good news, right?
The cold, stark white complexion of the walls and ceiling provided no comfort. Neither did the fluorescent lights or the plastic chairs along the wall.
Dean was sitting on the very last seat, the one closest to the ICU doors. His head was in his hands, his fingers were curled against his scalp, and his right leg bounced.
He hadn’t spoken a word since we arrived.
A chocolate bar dropped into the vending machine tray. I fished it out and walked back to Dean with no intention of opening it.
I sat beside him, tucking my arm beneath his and holding it as I rested my chin on his shoulder.
“I should’ve been there.” His voice was barely a whisper. “She was alone.”
I held him a little tighter, swallowing the lump in my throat. I couldn’t find the right words to make this any better. There was no making this better. It was a nightmare. And I could only imagine how Dean felt.
His home was gone, and his mother…
Sofia survived a tragedy before, and she rebuilt herself to the best of her abilities. At least, that’s what I kept reminding myself. She was a strong woman.
I still had so many conversations I wanted to have with her. Like telling her I was finally getting help. I was meant to tell her that over lunch.
Which would’ve been happening now.
The doors opened again, and this time, the surgeon walking through them spotted us and slowed.
It was hard to gauge what she would say. Her expression gave away nothing.
Dean stood, ringing his hands with anticipation as he approached her. I followed him, hesitantly awaiting the news.
She introduced herself, but I failed to remember her name. She asked for our names, and we responded with quick mutters, trying to get introductions out of the way. She maintained eye contact and invited us to take a seat. She explained the procedures and the injuries. Every second of the conversation refused to take hold in my mind. I couldn’t comprehend it, or maybe I didn’t want to believe it.
“We did all we could, but her wounds were too severe...”
