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Meg stops beside Mom and surveys me. “You look awful, but I’m glad you’re not dead.”
A dry laugh scrapes out of me. Everything fucking hurts.
Worrying her bottom lip, Mom looks at Dad. He gives her an encouraging nod.
“Isla’s here,” she says softly.
Those two simple words make my chest feel too small for everything I’m feeling, the heart rate monitor speeding up with it.
“She saw the accident and followed the ambulance in her car. She’s been here the whole time…holding your hand, talking to you. I made her take a coffee break an hour ago.”
A rush of dizziness slams into me. Not from the concussion, but because of my mom’s admission. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.
“Can I—” My voice breaks. “Can I see her?”
Mom squeezes my hand. “Yeah, honey. We’ll give you two a moment.”
The three of them say goodbye and my mom kisses my forehead; once the door clicks softly shut behind them and I’m alone, anticipation courses through me, making my pulse pound and the air electrify.
A moment later, Isla steps inside. Her hair is in a messy braid, her skin pale, her eyes rimmed red. She’s wearing an oversized pink hoodie and black leggings with white sneakers.
The look is so familiar, even after all this time.
My Isla. Even though I have no right to call her that.
She comes closer, leaving a couple of inches between her body and the bed. “You scared the hell out of me,” she whispers, not looking at my face.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. My voice is rough, my head still buzzing. “Didn’t mean to.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “That’s kind of your thing.”
I huff out a sound that might be a laugh, though the pain that comes with it makes me wince.
“How bad is it?” she asks, noticing my expression. “I didn’t want to bother your parents with questions, so I don’t know much.”
“Cracked rib. Concussion. Nothing too serious.” I lick my dry lips. “I’ll live.”
“Good.” She finally looks at me then, eyes glossy but steady. “I couldn’t handle it if you weren’t okay. Seeing you airborne and then on the road was more than enough.”
The words hang between us, neither of us knowing what to say. Not after everything.
I take another painful breath. “You stayed.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t leave until I was sure you were okay.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.” She nods, clasping her hands in front of her. “But I wanted to.”
Heart in my throat, I fist the sheet. “I thought you wanted me to leave you alone.”
Her shoulders sag a little. “I wanted you to keep your distance, but I’d never want you to hurt yourself. Definitely not like this.” She gestures between us, then to the hospital room.
It might be terrible timing for what I’m about to do, but there’s a chance it’s actually the best. I know she won’t lie to me now.
“You still care,” I whisper. “True or not true?”
She sighs, eyes softening. “True. Of course I still care, Michael. I don’t know how not to, even though I convinced myself otherwise for a while.”
