“Stop.” He shakes his head, reaching for me. “It is not your fault.”
“They’re going to blame me.”
JJ’s jaw ticks. “No. They’re not. It’s not your fault. Do not think that.”
My eyes sting as I glance up at him. “We should have stayed with him. What was I thinking?”
“You were processing the information, Ivy.” He cradles my face with his hand. “You had every right to take some space.”
My bottom lip trembles. “He could have died. He could have been somewhere unsafe.”
“He’s okay, princess,” he says to reassure me. “He’s in the best place he can be.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and fresh tears stream down my face. JJ pushes them away with the pad of his thumb. We stand there for a while before he takes my hand and guides us back to the waiting room.
My mother glances up at me as we reappear, she doesn’t even try to smile, and it shatters me to pieces.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper when I reach them.
“Why are you sorry, honey?”
“I should have been there.”
My father clears his throat, eyes set forward. “We should have helped him sooner, after you told your mother about his habits. We should have done more. I didn’t think it would ever lead to this.”
“I think he needs to go to a rehabilitation centre,” JJ says simply. “I don’t know if he’s going to be able to heal if he doesn’t.”
My parents share a glance, and the thought alone puts into perspective how out of control this has become.
“We all failed him,” I croak.
JJ smooths over my knuckles with his finger. “Maybe so, but we’ve all been going through shit.”
I watch as my mother stands and wraps her arms around me. I cry silently into her shoulder as she smooths back my hair with her hand. “It’s not your fault.” She shakes her head adamantly. “We should have taken action when you told me. I didn’t realise it was this serious. I tried to talk to him about it, but he downplayed it, and now I have to live with knowing I ignored the signs. God, I’m an awful mother.”
My father steps to our side and attempts to draw her into a hug. “You’re not an awful mother, Andrea. We just need to be there for our son now.”
The doctors let us in to see Finn when he’s stable. My eyes roam over him as he lies in the hospital bed with tubes tapedto his arms and hooked up to the machine beside him. He looks broken beyond belief.
My parents rush to his side. Finn says nothing, he looks disoriented and confused. I stand back as JJ patiently stands beside me, his fingers gently brushing my hip, but we know we can’t show affection at a time like this.
Not when he’s recovering.
Finn listens to what my parents say, managing a nod here and there until his eyes flick around the room and land on me. I freeze and swallow at the sadness that washes over his face.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out as my parents turn to look at me. “Ivy, I’m so sorry.”
My throat feels like razor blades as I attempt to speak. I wrap my arms around myself and hold on tightly.
“You should rest,” I say instead.
Finn’s mouth opens, but when my father rests a hand on his shoulder, he closes it again. “She’s right. You should rest.”
“Do you think you could give us a moment?” my mum asks and subtly flashes us the leaflet the doctor gave her about rehabilitation treatment.
We both leave in understanding. This isn’t going to be an easy conversation, but it’s important, and Finn’s health needs attention.
Once we’re outside in the waiting area again, JJ holds my hand in my lap. We stay quiet because I don’t know what there is to say, and I’m grateful not to be bombarded by a million different questions.
