“Right, well.” He stands up and rubs the back of his neck. “I wanna be there when Raven wakes up. She’s gonna be confused as hell.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“I’ll check in with the nurses, see how long until they’ll let you go home. My guess is we’ll probably be here with Sadie a few days longer than you.”
“Can’t go home. That much I remember.”
He glares at me. “Our home.”
“Jonah, I can’t stay with you guys. Raven, the baby, you don’t need a houseguest.”
“No, but I’ll need your help. And Eve, she’s gonna need you.”
Need me? But I thought after the baby came her family would be complete. She wouldn’t need the makeshift family we formed together. “She’ll need her family. Her mom, you, Sadie—”
“And her sister.”
The warmth of his words goes straight to my chest and it’s like I can’t breathe. “Are you sure—?”
“Eve.”
I’m family. I pick at thread of my blanket. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t say another word and leaves the room along with leaving me with more questions than I have answers to.
What the hell happened?
*
Cameron
As I pace the hallway of the hospital, I’m assaulted by the fear from the past. I try to force the anxiety away, but fuck if this place doesn’t make me remember all the shit I’d hoped I’d forget.
The dread that overcomes you at the possibility of losing a child.
Guilt from knowing I could’ve saved her if I’d just paid attention.
Shit, this isn’t about me. It’s about Eve.
Jonah sent everyone home a while ago after he explained that Raven and the baby are both doing well. Raven’s mom, Milena, showed up sobbing and, according to Jonah, refuses to leave the baby alone for a second. They’re in good hands.
But Eve . . . fuck.
I stop pacing and stare at the door to her hospital room. Maybe I should just go home. I shove my hand into my hair and pull. Don’t be such a *!
Fact is for the first time since the day Rosie drowned, I’m fucking terrified. The shit stirring behind my ribs when it comes to this girl is something I’d swore off ever feeling again.
I’ve fallen for Eve.
Hard.
I can’t get my thoughts straight, and compounded with the memories of losing one of the only other people I’ve ever loved in my life doesn’t make this shit any easier.
“Mr. Kyle?” The nurse from the circular desk who gave me directions to Eve’s room approaches me. “You’re right; that’s the one.” She nods toward the door I’ve been pacing in front of for the last ten minutes. “Room 452.”
“Great, thank you.” Now go away so I can figure my shit out, please.
She opens Eve’s door wide and peeks inside before looking back at me. “You’re lucky she’s awake.”
How wonderfully fucking helpful is she? I groan. So much for sorting my shit. I take a deep breath and move into the room.
My gut clenches. Eve’s tucked beneath the sterile-looking hospital blanket, her head wrapped in white gauze. She’s turned away from the door, gazing out the window. She looks so tiny, fragile.
The nurse motions for me to go in before she leaves, but my feet are frozen in place as I take in the beauty and tragic sadness of the room. No family, not even a good friend. Just me. And her dick of a father who probably would’ve spent visiting hours tossing the room for cash.
Her eyes dart to mine and widen. I suck in a breath at the bruises and cuts that pepper her gorgeous face. Blackened eyes, stitches along her cheekbone, and a split lip. My fists clench.
Her jaw goes slack. Shocked to see me?
“Hey.” I step deeper into the room, and immediately the walls close in and anxiety pricks my nerves.
“You’re here?”
I nod and move a few more steps toward her bed. “I am.”
“W-why?” Her gaze swings over my shoulder and to my side. “You alone?”
She sees I’m alone, so I ignore her question. “Your head.”
Her fingers gently press to her gauze-covered temple and run down to smooth her tangled hair. “Oh, yeah, I guess my head went through . . . I don’t know, maybe the side window? Or . . .” Her fingers trail from her cheek to the length of her jaw, stopping to read each cut and tender spot. “I don’t know.”
She doesn’t remember, something I know more about than I’d ever let on.
I take another step and sit at the foot of her bed. The mattress dips with my weight, and her hand flies to her ribs and she cringes.
I jump up. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I just braced a little too hard when I saw you sit.” She breathes deeply and motions to the end of the bed. “Please, it’s fine. Sit.”
I drop slowly to make sure there’s no sudden movement and watch her expression.
She takes a slow but deep breath. “I’m good.”
“You don’t remember the accident.”