I wait for nearly an hour before I can抰 stand it.
No sign of Lincoln Burns.
I hate myself for it, but now Cheryl抯 words have me concerned.
What if something crazy happened to Lincoln and everyone just thinks he抯 waving his dick? He never struck me as a coward.
I get up and ask the barista girl if she抯 seen a suit come in lately for a large Regis roll order.
She knows exactly who I mean.
When she tells me he hasn抰 been by in a few days梫ery unusual梞y heart skips. What the hell is going on?
I take off, tossing back what抯 left in my cup as I fly out the door.
At the park a few blocks down, I find Wyatt抯 tent. It抯 crumpled and empty, his meager belongings picked over.
Oh my God. What happened?
A rustling noise behind me makes me turn.
A girl comes out of the pink tent where we left flowers once. She gives me a friendly wave.
I return it, even with my brain stuck on panic.
Should I call Lincoln? Does he already know? Is this why he抯 gone?
揌ey there. Any news about Wyatt??the homeless girl asks.
I blink, clearing my throat. 揘o. I抦 sorry. What happened??
揧ou don抰 know? I found him. He was pretty sick and out of it, so I called an ambulance. I rode to the hospital with him, but then Lincoln came and I couldn抰 stay there forever. I just want to know how Wyatt抯 doing.?She gestures to the collapsed, empty tent.
A rock forms in my throat.
揥hat hospital did they go to??I ask.
Before she抯 even done rattling off a name, I抦 racing into the night.
Lincoln Burns might be the bastard child of a cactus and a rabid wolverine, but I can抰 leave him hanging with those standoffish texts if his best friend is dying.
I need to find him ASAP.
20
That Melancholy Burden (Lincoln)
Knock, knock, knock!
I jerk up in my seat, almost welcoming the interruption. It抯 a good reason not to write this stupid email I抳e been struggling with for days.
I go to the door, assuming it抯 a nurse or doctor here for another check-up. I find Olivia and Micha instead. The boy抯 face is hollow, empty, and scared.
My heart sinks. I抦 glad he抯 here, but I know it can抰 be easy.
I reach down, tussling his hair with my hand.
揑 haven抰 seen you in a while, little man. You抳e gotten so big.?
He looks up slowly with a small sniffle. 揑s my dad gonna be okay, Mr. Lincoln??
揌e抯 been through worse, I promise you that,?I say, wishing I had the heart to lie to him with lofty guarantees about Wyatt springing out of bed tomorrow. 揥hy don抰 you go on in and see for yourself??
揟hank you, Burns,?Olivia clips. She抯 just as fabulous as ever, wearing a smile that looks like it wants to chew my face off.
You抎 never guess the man she made a son with is lying behind us on his deathbed.
I hold the door open, ushering them inside before I let it shut behind me and walk across the hall.
I want to stay as close as I can while I wait for them to leave. Wyatt shouldn抰 be alone when there抯 always a sliver of a chance he could wake up.
They抮e in the room for less than half an hour.
Micha抯 strung-out sobs are hard to miss, even in the hall. When they exit the room, Olivia抯 face is redder than her son抯. She swipes a tear off her cheek.
I want to believe those tears are real.
Only, she抯 so self-centered. She抯 probably just pissed Wyatt found a way to force himself back into her life梑ack into Micha抯梕ven if he抯 horribly close to leaving this world.
I move over as Micha tries to shrink into the wall, his arms clasped tightly around his small body.
揧ou going to be okay, bud??I ask, leaning down with concern.
揧eah,?he mumbles without looking up.
Olivia sighs.
揑 just knew he抎 end up like this if he kept living like a pack rat. He looks terrible.?Her words are soft and strained.
揧ou抮e blaming a homeless guy for having pneumonia in front of his son??I growl, standing and lowering my voice so the kid can抰 hear.
揘o. I抦 blaming a man who refused to hold down a job after Iraq, and who used to pop painkillers like dinner mints. He抯 lucky it抯 just pneumonia. I don抰 even want to know what his liver looks like.?
揌e couldn抰 work. He lost his leg棓 I choke on my words, knowing I have to be calm for the boy抯 sake.
揃ut not his brain棓
揧ou abandoned him,?I bite off.
揙h, sure. It抯 not like his issues were any better when he was drinking himself stupid. Somebody had to support our son, and you抮e looking at her,?she says bitterly.
揥hatever. Micha doesn抰 need to hear you trashing his old man like this while he抯 laid up in the room behind you. It抯 not fair to anyone.?
Micha抯 small, hurt sobs are audible again. He looks at us with wide, glistening eyes.
揑s Daddy gonna die??
揑 don抰 know, honey,?Olivia says quietly.
I shake my head firmly.
揌e抯 a human ox. He抣l pull through. Count on it, Micha.?
He looks up at me, his eyes conflicted.
Goddammit, this sucks. Every last rotten bit of it.
I抦 not sure what else to say. I don抰 deal with kids often.
I meet Olivia抯 eyes, hoping she抣l come to the rescue. This is her son, her family, whatever the hell happened between them to cause grudges.
She stares straight ahead for a solid minute before her eyes flick to me.
揥ell, we have to get back. Will you call me if he梚f anything changes??
My jaw tightens. I want to rip her a new one so bad.
揟hat抯 it??I whisper, my voice low. 揧ou抣l let the boy visit one time for half an hour and run home??
She closes her eyes for a second. When she opens them, she scoffs.
揃urns, would you want to see your father like that? Would it do anything besides give you nightmares for life??
I roll my eyes, making a frustrated sound.
What the fuck ever. I get it.
She wants to fly back to her fancy new life with another sucker she抣l probably screw over eventually the same way she did Wyatt. That抯 cool. But why use the boy as an emotional shield?
揧our choice,?I bite off, crossing to the door and pressing my hand against it.
It抯 all I can do to keep my rage in check.
揧ou抣l call me, right??she calls after me.
Fuck no, I抦 tempted to tell her.
If that抯 her attitude, she can find out Wyatt抯 fate from the staff.
Of course, I can抰 do that to my friend, though.
揥ill you care??I ask, moving back to the room.
揕incoln, wait!?My name comes out like an expletive.
I don抰 stop, pushing the door open. I reenter Wyatt抯 room without continuing this pointless conversation.
I return to the hard chair I抳e practically lived in for the last few days and open my laptop again. Let抯 try this email one more time.
One of the monitors beeps.
I glance up at my friend, this motionless mass of tubes and paleness. His condition hasn抰 changed the whole time I抳e been here.
The lines move up and down the same way, the machines churning with faint hisses.
I exhale. 揋et better, man.?
With my eyes back on my screen, I confront a different torture, inhaling sharply.
Okay. Fuck. Let抯 try this again.
Dear Dakota,
I抦 sorry I was a jackass.
My nose wrinkles. I punch DELETE. It抯 true, yeah, but there抯 no point in getting her hopes up just to crush her again.
Dear Dakota,
I can抰 see you again.
I snort, knowing how stupid that sounds.
My hands push the laptop shut again.
Who am I kidding?
Dakota Poe is the only person I want to see, and I shouldn抰. I don抰 deserve her.
Even if I knew full well the sheer torment of watching a comatose Wyatt the past few days would have been easier with her here. And she抎 be here if I only asked.
You抎 think the hardest part of this past week would be staring at Wyatt, wondering if he抣l ever leave his bed.
The hard part should抳e been tracking down his heartless ex and threatening her with legal destruction so she抎 show up with their son, who I have an ugly feeling won抰 be back again.
I look at that mess of a man again, hanging my head.
揑抦 sorry, Wyatt. I wish I抎 done you better...?When I look up, I抦 biting my inner cheek until I taste blood.