Then nothing.
When I woke up, it was to beeping and white light. My throat burned. My body felt hollow. Frantically, I scanned the room.
Dalton sat in the corner, head bowed, blood dried on his knuckles. He looked up when I moved. “Hey,” he said hoarsely. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Jackson?” I glanced around the room again and licked my cracked lips. But Jackson…I could’ve sworn I had heard him.
He looked at the floor, then back at me. And that was answer enough. My lip trembled, and I closed my eyes. It had been so real.
Dalton leaned forward, brushed hair out of my face. “You’re ok. Just breathe.”
A nurse told me later that if he hadn’t broken down the door when he did, I’d be gone.
When I was moved from ICU, the room filled with too much love for one girl who’d nearly thrown her life away.
Flowers on every surface. A card from Clint that said,Those boys would go soft without you.Maria had left a stuffed bear from Jewel, tucked against my pillow. Someone had writtenSteel Saints don’t quitacross the top of the whiteboard in permanent marker.
Mom and Dad came every day. They brought food I couldn’t eat and guilt I couldn’t swallow. When I opened my eyes one morning and saw Mom holding my hand, she was crying so hard she didn’t even notice I was awake until I squeezed back.
“Holly,” she gasped. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful, brave baby girl.” She kissed my forehead over and over, whispering prayers that didn’t reach the ceiling. Dad just stood at the foot of the bed, staring at me like he was trying to make sure I never left again.
Later, when they thought I was asleep, I heard Hannah’s voice from the hallway—sharp, brittle. “You saw her doing all this and didn’t tell us?”
Dalton’s voice cracked back, raw from too many sleepless nights. “I wastrying, Mom! You think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t try to stop her? You were there, but you weren’t. None ofyou were. You were all grieving him, and I was trying to keepheralive!”
Silence fell like a dropped weight. Then the sound of Hannah breaking. I saw her shadow embrace him, reaching for the son who towered over her. Watched him melt into her arms like he had been carrying a weight that wasn’t his for too long. And, truth was, he had.
“I am so sorry,” she said softly. “I’m here now, baby.”
When I opened my eyes again, Dalton was back in the chair by my bed, elbows on his knees. He didn’t say anything. Just watched me like if he blinked, we would be back on the bathroom floor.
Rehab came next. Voluntary, technically. I signed the papers anyway.
Dalton drove me. We didn’t talk much. The hum of the tires filled the silence between us. When he parked, he left the engine running and just stared out the windshield, jaw tight.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice cracked more than I wanted it to.
He didn’t look at me. “Because he asked me to.”
That used to work, that excuse, that invisible line back to Jackson, but not anymore. I shook my head, the motion small and sharp. “That’s bullshit, Dalton. He’s gone.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, the sound somewhere between exhaustion and surrender. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “He is.”
Finally, he turned to look at me. “You’re like the sister I never had, Holly. You’re smart, and funny, and you’ve got this huge heart that never stops trying to fix people who are already in pieces.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “And you made a guy who was like a brother to me happier than I’ve ever seen him.”
The words hit harder than he meant them to. I didn’t know what to do with them, with the truth in his voice, or the ache sitting heavy behind it.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He winked at me. “Anytime, blondie.”
My heart ached at the sadness in his blue eyes, and I wondered how long it would be before they were bright again.
In case anyone was wondering, rehab was hell. Beige walls. Weak coffee. Counselors with kind eyes that made me nauseous.
Every time they asked me to “share,” I shut down. They wanted to talk about grief. I wanted to burn it.
Day three, I shook so bad I thought my bones would break. They called it detox. I called it penance.
