Eve
I’m being crushed from the inside. Heart, lungs, and stomach compacted in the vise grip of my memory.
It was my idea to take out the Nova. Raven only agreed to make me feel better. Music. I remember the music was loud. The crash was quick. I can almost see it in slow motion. We were hit hard. My head slammed into the side window, and then everything went black.
“Eve, doll, talk to me.”
I look to the voice without seeing.
“Let’s go for it.”
“Oh, no. Jonah would kill me.”
“Is he here?”
“No.”
“A ten-minute cruise around the neighborhood. We’ll roll the windows down, blast your crappy fifties music. It’ll be just like old times.”
“I don’t know, Eve.”
“Oh come on! It’ll be fun.”
“Fine.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“I talked her into the Nova,” I whisper.
The bed shifts, but I don’t feel any pain . . . only regret and stifling guilt.
“Eve, listen to me right now.”
I blink up to sympathetic . . . no, empathetic eyes?
“This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known you’d get hit.”
“The Nova. Jonah didn’t want her driving it because it’s not safe. I talked her into it. She said no, but I talked her into it.”
The panic wells in my chest. Sweat breaks out over my skin. I can’t suck in enough air. I’m dizzy. The baby. What if she doesn’t make it or if she has complications because of the accident? Raven will never forgive me. I’ll never forgive me.
“I have to get out of here.” I pull at the monitoring wires. “I need to go.” Tears flow freely down my face.
“Hold on; just calm down.” Cameron’s hands come to my shoulders.
“No! Let me go.” I swing my legs over the bed and search for a way to get to air. “I can’t stay here. I can’t breathe.” I stand and take quick steps toward the door before the sting of my IV stops me.
Strong arms wrap me up from behind, and a splinter of pain twists in my side, but it’s nothing compared to what I deserve. I savor it and take my punishment.
“There’s no air.” A soul-deep sob rips from my throat; my body shakes with the force of it. “My chest hurts.”
“Shh, I know.” He rubs soothing circles on my back. “I know.”
I pull back and look him in the eyes. “You don’t know, Cameron! You have no fucking clue. I did this. The baby could die because of me.”
His face gets hard.
“How am I going tell Jonah it’s my fault he almost lost his wife and baby?” I press against my breastbone, the pain slicing through. “How will I explain that it’s my fault that he almost lost his wife and baby the same way he lost his father?”
The entire weight of my body sinks, but I don’t hit the ground. Cameron’s hold keeps me upright, even though my legs are completely limp beneath me.
“They’re my family.” I hiccup through my bawling and my head throbs. His arms drop around my waist, and he buries his nose in my shoulder.
I cry with uncontrollable wails and pain. So much pain.
Oh, God, what have I done? They’ll never forgive me.
*
Cameron
A nurse rushes into the room, her eyes wide on me. “What’s going on?” She quickly studies the beeping machine and then Eve, who’s falling apart in my arms. “Get her to the bed.” She jogs out of the room.
“Come on, Eve.” It’s a waste of breath to speak because she’s so lost in her sadness and guilt that she’s not hearing a damn thing outside of her own agony.
I lift her up as gently as I can, and her arms wrap around my neck, holding on while she whispers remorse-laden prayers into my neck. A sense of déjà vu makes my chest heavy, and the urge to run is overwhelming. Every cry from her lips pulls at a part of me that I’ve hidden deep. A part covered with years of avoidance and a shitload of work.
The regret.
Guilt.
Loss.
I lower her to the bed just at the nurse comes back in with a syringe. My first instinct is to crouch in front of Eve to protect her from the sting of the needle, but I know the anguish she’s going through. I’ve felt the same things she’s feeling.
The nurse steps forward. “Hold her steady.” She injects what I’m assuming is a sedative into Eve’s IV. “That shouldn’t take long to kick in.” She crosses the room to drop the syringe in the sharps box. “I’ll be back in a minute, after she calms down.”
Eve’s eyes slide closed and her breathing slows.
“I won’t be here.” There’s no way I can do this shit.
I’ve spent the last fourteen years of my life with my back to the pain. I’m not ready to turn and face it now.
Not even for Eve.
I’m not brave enough.
The nurse checks Eve’s vitals, and it’s clear the meds have kicked in and she’s fallen asleep. “What set her off?”
“She remembered the accident.”
“Mm, okay, I could see how that would be disturbing.” She tucks Eve in and hits a couple buttons on the machine at her side.