So many questions assault me, and I miss whatever Eloise is saying calmly in my ear.
“I was going to go see him.”
“I think that’s a great idea. You don’t sound sure, but I think you should.”
“He hates me.”
She snorts softly. “Sure he does. Just like you hate him.” Her words are heavy with unspoken subtext. “He told Ares about the Halloween party where you met.”
I swallow, starting the car as though the distraction might block out the memories of the hottest kiss of my life. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is frustratingly level. “From what Tate said to Ares, you guys had a connection before...”
She doesn’t finish the sentence, because if she did she’d have said I got irrationally mad at him on behalf of his father’s actions and ghosted him.
Except it’s not irrational. I know it’s not.
But it might be atleasta little unfair.
Swallowing again, I flick my turn signal on. “I’m going to go see him. I’ll let you know how he’s doing.”
“Just be yourself, Pen.”
I’m glad that’s how she ends the conversation because I don’t know how to be anyone else.
It’s a short drive to Mercy, and I spend it crying to Taylor’s Tortured Poet’s Department. When I get there, I can’t get out of the car. I sit and stare at the bright hospital sign with the winter sun glinting off it.
My phone vibrating scares the crap out of me.
Karlya: I just heard, is he okay? Are you?
Karlya: Anything I can do?
I wish there was something I could say yes to, that there was a list of things I could send back for her to help with, but there’s nothing either of us can do. At least not until I go into the hospital and figure out what the damage is.
Me: I think I’m good. I haven’t seen him yet, so I’m not sure I can answer any of those questions.
Karlya: Let me know. It’s a three hour drive from Madison. I can come help if you need me.
I can’t help but smile. She went to college in Madison, Oliver, too, and both of them come back to Iowa as much as they possibly can.
Me: Will do. Give me a pep talk to get out of the car and walk into the hospital?
Karlya: Don’t be a fucking pussy. Get your ass out of the car and go visit the Milkshake Man. Give him my love.
It takes another eleven minutes for me to find my backbone and get out of the vehicle.
I drag my feet the whole way to his room. I’m not sure if it’s ‘cause I want him to be pranking me at this point, or if I’m afraid of what he’s going to look like when I walk in.
Tapping on the door doesn’t work, I knock a little harder, and a woman’s voice answers. “Come in.”
Readying myself to face the only woman in the world it can be—his girlfriend, because of course that’s where my mind goes in this scenario—I push the door open and paste a smile on my face.
He’s facing away from me, lying on his side facing the window and the side of the room his mom—not his girlfriend, simmer down, you jealous wackadoodle—is sitting too.
I throw her a casual wave, my heart hammering inside my rib cage. “Hi. I brought Tate’s bag from the dorm room.”
He doesn’t react to my voice, so I assume he’s asleep and drop to a whisper.
