I nod. Tobias looks angry as he processes every word I say.
“How bad was it?” he asks.
“I had a broken arm and a concussion.”
“I don’t know if I want to ask this,” he mumbles before grabbing my hands with his. “How long did your company give you off?”
I shake my head, not wanting to answer that. If he’s already mad that I was in the hospital and told Aiden not to come visit, he was not going to like the answer to this question.
“Mila, answer the question. Tell me how long they gave you to recuperate and deal with everything,” he demands.
Tears pool in my eyes, the ones I’ve been trying to suppress since the car accident.
“I can’t,” I choke out.
“It’s okay, I’m here for you. Just tell me how long you got off.”
“One,” I manage to get out before the lump in my throat stops me.
“One month?” he asks and I shake my head. “One year?”
Another shake of my head and Tobias takes a deep breath.
“One week?” he asks and I nod my head.
One week for me to get over my concussion and deal with everything related to the car accident and their deaths.
“Little One,” he breathes.
I take a deep breath before looking at him, forcing a smile onto my face. “It’s okay. I needed it.”
Honestly I think if they gave me more time off, I wouldn’t have been able to go back to work. I don’t think I would have survived. I would have gone down a path that led me into darkness.
“Little One,” Tobias says again. “That isn’t okay.”
“But it was. They really needed me back, and I needed to keep my mind off everything,” I whisper toward the end.
It had been hard to go back to work after only a week. The constant reminder of what happened while my broken arm was healing. But I pushed through it every single day, going to work,answering Aiden’s calls, and falling asleep so I didn’t have to think about it.
“It’s not,” he says. “You didn’t have any time to grieve or heal properly.”
I look down at our hands and let out a shaky breath. We are getting into dangerous territory.
“Can we stop talking about it?” I ask. “I just want to not think about it.”
Pulling my head up, I look at him through my blurry vision. I don’t want to cry again because I know if I start crying about this, there is no going back. I won’t be able to stop crying.
He sighs. “Are you sure you want to stop talking about it? I think it would help relieve some of the guilt you are feeling.”
“I’m not feeling guilt.” My voice betrays me.
I feel it every single day.
If I had been awake, would I have warned them?
Would they still be alive?
Would I have died with them?
