“He’s still unconscious but they are doing blood work. They think it was an overdose or something, but Drew told them Pete would never do drugs. They have him hooked up to an IV to bring him around. He’s still breathing Gav, he’s going to be fine and we are going to figure out what the fuck happened.” His words swirl in my head. Overdose. What if he never wakes up and I lose him? I should have protected him, I should have been watching him closer. My hand slams against my chest as I try to take a full breath and fail.
“Jesus, Gavin, breathe,” Ryan demands as he shoves my head down between my legs and I force air into my lungs. It burns, like my body is telling me that I don’t deserve to breathe if Pete isn’t going to. Just like Adam.
“It’s happening again.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them and they cause Ryan to pause his encouraging deep breaths.
“What’s happening again?” he asks while still rubbing my back and the heat from his hand feels like a blade cutting across my skin. I don’t deserve his sympathy, I don’t deserve to breathe. Overdose. Just like Adam. I’m going to lose him too.
Standing up abruptly, hands fisted in my hair, I head for the exit. I can’t be here. Maybe if I’m not here Pete has a chance. I knew my darkness would envelop him. I should have stayed away. I can hear Ryan calling my name but I keep walking until there is nothing, nothing but the voices in my head, the voices I try so hard to fight. The voices that Pete somehow managed to banish. They are loud now and I have no fight left to ignore them. I need a fucking drink.
CHAPTER 20
PETE
The first thing I notice when I wake up, before I have even opened my eyes is the incessant beeping coming from my left side. What the fuck? That isn’t my alarm, or Gavin’s. Peeling open my eyelids I immediately shut them again. The light in this room is like needles to my eyeballs. Jesus, how much did I drink last night? My head is killing me and why do I smell disinfectant?
“Thank fuck you’re awake.” My brother’s hoarse voice startles me a little and I roll to my side but let out a yelp when I almost topple off the bed. A hospital bed? What the hell am I doing in a hospital bed?
“Seriously Drew turn the volume down and maybe the lights, how drunk was I? Did I break something?” I ask, smirking to myself. I’ve already come to the conclusion I was likely drunk off my ass and trying to perform Black Swan again.
I hear Drew cross the room then step closer to my bed and drop into the chair next to me. I peek out of one eye and test the lighting situation. Much better. Slowly opening my eyes I look over at my brother. He’s still wearing his clothes from last night and his face looks like he has aged ten years overnight.
“Jesus, who died?” I ask, running my eyes over his disheveled appearance.
“You almost did!” he yells, bolting upright to stare at me before sighing and putting his head in his hands. “Fuck Pete, you could have died. You were drugged somehow, you collapsed on the dance floor and have been unconscious for over twelve hours.”
I gasp and cover my face with my hands. I have no recollection of last night. Nothing, it’s like it has all been wiped clean. Somebody drugged me? I collapsed? Holy fuck.
"Where’s Gavin?” I ask, looking around the room and finding nobody else is in here. I know my man, he wouldn’t leave my side. He must be getting coffee.
My eyes meet Drew’s again as he sighs and rubs his hands down his face.
“We don’t know. He left the hospital last night after some kind of panic attack and he’s not answering his phone. I think Carter is driving around trying to find him.” That makes me sit up then instantly regret it as the movement jars something in the back of my skull and I have to lay back down.
“Where is my phone Drew? Quickly find it, he might answer to me, we need to find him, he must be so worried.” I’m sure the panic in my voice is the only thing that has my brother moving.
“Worried? Then why isn’t he here?” I don’t miss the way he mutters while reaching for the cabinet at the side of my bed.
I don’t have time to try and explain Gavin’s past to my brother, and it’s not even my story to tell so for now I choose to ignore his remark in favor of finding my man.
“Come on, pick up, pick up, Grumpy Bear,” I mutter into the phone as it rings and rings before connecting to Gavin’s voicemail. Again. I’ve called him fourteen times and nothing. I try to convince the nurses to take the IV out and let me go but they quite firmly tell me I need to wait for the doctor to release me. Drew of course is no help, he just agrees with them and tells me to lay down and try to get some more rest. Rest? How the fuck can I rest when something is very wrong? I can feel it. Gavin needs me.
My head snaps to the door when it opens but my smile quickly falls when my sisters all come shuffling into the room with bags of clothes and…
“Is that a fruit basket?” I ask Kim, who holds it up like it’s the first prize trophy at the Miss Denver contest.
“Yes butt munch, that’s what you bring people when they are in the hospital.” She rolls her eyes at me like I’m the exhausting one and sets the giant wicker basket on the tray table before plopping down on the end of the bed.
“Why don’t you go get washed up Drew? We got him from here,” Val tells him with a pat to his shoulder. He really does look drained and I feel awful that he was so worried. She drops into his seat the minute he steps into the adjoining bathroom with his change of clothes in hand.
In an uncharacteristic move Kim leans forward and takes my hand just as Val grabs the other.
“Seriously Pete are you okay? You scared the hell out of us,” Kim asks, her eyes moving over my face and head like she’s trying to scan me for injuries. I slowly nod my head, more aware now that quick movement hurts like a bitch.
“I promise I’m okay, I have a headache but otherwise I’m fine.” I squeeze both of their hands then lift my head to the door as it opens again. This time it’s the doctor and not even his reassuring smile and sunny bedside manner can shake me out of my funk. I just want to get out of here and find Gavin.
“After the paramedics’ assessment on scene we took a sample of your blood and ran some tests. It tested positive for Rohypnol, Mr Cliffer. Your brother and friends assured me that you would not have willingly consumed narcotics.” My jaw is hanging open so much it swings when I shake my head which makes me immediately wince from the pain.
“No way, absolutely not, why would anybody willingly take a roofie?” I ask in horror. Jesus, somebody roofied me. No wonder Drew looks such a mess, they must have told him what was in my system when I was unconscious.
