Page 91 of All The Ways to Miss You

Four. Three. Two.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says.

My body stiffens, and I clench the edge of my seat. My mind’s imagining the worst scenario. I can’t help it. It’s automatic. I hold my breath as my eyes burn like they’re filling with bleach as I wait. I can’t bring myself to ask.

“I have sources at the hospital.” He shifts gears, blows through a red light, and turns into his neighborhood. “Besides her gunshot wounds, she’s in a coma from a traumatic head injury. They think she fell and hit her head in the chaos.”

But she’s still alive, still breathing. She’ll be okay. “When will she wake?”

“They don’t know. Sooner is better. Longer is . . .”

“No good.” I finish his sentence, but my thoughts have turned to the worst again.

We pull into his driveway and park. Viv stands outside their open front door, burrowed into a large gray sweater. Her auburn hair blows in the breeze.

I reach to open the door with my bruised hand, but Linden has yet to unlock them. When I glance over, I can see he’s not done with me. A muscle jumps in my neck.

“You have to promise you’ll stay away from the hospital until we can meet with the attorney.”

“You know I can’t do that.” My voice is still hoarse.

“She’s getting the best care at a first-rate hospital with the best physicians in the world. I know you want to be by her side, we all do, but the best way to deal with this is to play it cool. It’s a shitty thing for me to ask. I understand. In fact, I’d understand if you told me to fuck off and bolted when I open that door. But you’re tired, you need a shower, and you need sleep so you can have a clear head. You’ll be better for her tomorrow. You can’t face her like this.” He gestures to me.

I know what I look like, or at least I did yesterday. Now it’s a day later, and I’m still a wreck inside and out.

I glance at Linden, trying to decide. He’s always watched out for me. He tells me the truth, even when it hurts, and it’s never hurt like this before.

Resigned, I nod. Either way, it’s the only way I’m getting out of this car.

The locks release. I shove open my door and slide out.

As I approach Viv, a breeze lifts her red hair, whipping it around her face, and strands stick to her maroon lips. She opens her arms and folds me into the warmth of her sweater. I should find comfort in her hug. She’s been a constant rock of support in my life, more than my own mother, but still, I’m numb.

“We’ll figure this out. Come inside,” she says, guiding me into their home.

In the guest bedroom, I shower and dress in fresh clothes I borrowed from Linden. My guilt is overwhelming when I hold out my bloodstained pants and shirt, ready to discard them. It’s the last of Steph. I’ve been too distracted to consider her family, her other friends, and Trevor.

When is the funeral? Should I call them and tell them I was there? What will I even say . . . I couldn’t save your daughter? My face crumples, and I shake my head.

“I’ve already talked to her family. The funeral’s later this week,” Linden says.

“Did you tell them . . . I’m sorry? I tried . . .” Linden’s right. I can’t think straight.

“They know.”

I nod and release the clothes. They drop into the trash bag, and Linden ties it shut. “Viv’s making food. Can you eat?”

“Sleep.” My voice is resigned.

He agrees and closes the door behind him, leaving me in the quiet bedroom. I sit on the edge of the mattress. My misery and headache increase the longer I fight to maintain consciousness. I’m scared if I sleep, if I miss one second, something else I can’t control will happen to Cait. If I’m sleeping, I won’t be able to protect her.

My eyes are so heavy. They snap open before I realize I’ve closed them. I find myself leaning and drifting to one side.

Finally, I give in and lie down on top of the comforter, holding an image of Cait in my foggy mind. With her beautiful face framed behind my eyelids, I walk toward her and allow the darkness to take me.

The problem is, my world is worse when I wake.

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