A flash of blue jolts me awake, and when I open my eyes, Cameron is there.
“Hey, girlfriend.” She yawns, her upper body bent over in her chair, her head lying on my legs. She folds her arms under her cheek and smiles. “How’s the head?”
“Heavy, but not excruciating anymore. My ribs are an entirely different story.”
“I bet.”
Glancing around the room, I spot Mason draped over the corner chair, the rest of the space clear.
“Brady and Chase went home a couple hours ago to shower and get some sleep. Mase wouldn’t budge, of course.”
The corner of my mouth lifts, but I look away when moisture builds in my eyes and I don’t even know why. “What day is it?”
She’s quiet a moment before she whispers, “It’s still December twenty-ninth. You were only asleep for a couple hours.” Her tone is thick with worry.
I nod, but my lips begin to quiver, and she sits up, Mason quickly coming to my side. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why this keeps happening.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you woke up. Of course you’re going to emotional, we understand, and we’re just happy you’re okay.”
“Am I?”
Mase reaches out, but I shake my head, wiping the tears away before they fall. My chest aches with my full inhale, but I suffer through it, trying to force away the millions of emotions dizzying up my mind.
“Ari—”
“I wish Mom and Dad were here.” I cry, my shoulders shaking, and Mason shifts, sitting at the edge beside me on the bed now.
“I know you do. Me too.” He hugs me to him, his voice cracking. “I’ve tried everything, but they’ll call us as soon as they’re back on land. Should only be two more days, tops.”
Two more days until I’ll get to hear my mom’s voice, until my dad is here promising everything will be okay and begs for instructions on what he can do to make it better.
I don’t know what can be made better, if anything.
I’m too afraid to think past what I know, and apparently, I don’t know shit. Nothing recent, anyway.
The doctor said this happens more than people realize, that memory loss, while less common than not, isn’t abnormal in concussion-related injuries. He said as soon as my brain has had time to heal, things will slowly come back to me, that they’re hopeful, and I should be too.
I want to be, but there’s this helplessness I can’t shake, and I think my twin senses it.
Sniffling, I look up, and he wipes my tears with the pads of his thumbs, attempting a smile, but it never quite breaks free.
“If you do get a hold of them, I don’t think we should tell them until they’re home.” I try to busy his mind with something a little less about me. “They’ll just stress the whole way back.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” He nods, rubbing his eyes like he used to do when we were little.
I reach out, gripping his hand. “Go home, Mase.”
His head jerks my way, and he sits up straight. “What, no, I’m good.”
“No, I’m good, I promise.” When it’s obvious he doesn’t agree, I add, “Plus, I want to try and take a shower. Nurse Becky said I can, with help. I just have to work around my IV.”
“I can help,” he argues.
“Mase, your sister will be naked in said shower,” Cameron teases, knowing he didn’t think it through. “Just go, I went home for a few hours last night, and we both know Ari will be bored of hearing us and ready to pass out again in another hour anyway.” She pokes fun.
Mason scoffs a laugh, aware of what she’s doing, but he’s exhausted, and he knows I’m in good hands. The risks are gone, so if there’s a perfect time for him to go, it’s now.
“Yeah, all right. I’ve got something to do anyway.”
“Yeah, like sleep.”
His smirk is small as he presses his lips to my hair. “Be back soon, okay? Have Cam call me if you need me. I’ll come right back.”
“I know and I will.”
He grabs some things off the chair, and with one last look back, he walks out.
My shoulders fall instantly, and when I turn to Cameron, her eyes begin to water.
“Come on, girlfriend,” she whispers as she stands. “Let’s get you all fresh.”
It takes several minutes for me to get up on my feet, but it’s faster than it was the day before when the nurse asked me to walk across the room and back.
Everything still aches, but I’ve got some of my movements down to know which ways sting a little less.
Cameron pulls my IV bag as close as she, allowing for the most stretch possible, and I slip under the spray, Cameron not a foot from me the entire time.
Once I’ve washed my body the best I can manage, I gently apply shampoo in my hair, careful not to touch the scrapes now scabbing over on the left side of my head, in fear of it stinging.
Cameron pokes her head in to help squeeze some conditioner into my palms, and the minute I lather it into the ends of my hair, my eyes decide to close, a strange flicker of something bringing a frown to my face.
I lean against the wall, lift the tips of my hair to my nose and inhale again.
The soap, it has an almost piney, eucalyptus scent, but fresh and clean and… familiar.
An unexpected warmth washes over me, but it brings tears of confusion with it, and suddenly, I’m gasping for air I didn’t know I was denying myself.
“You okay?” Cameron asks from the other side of the curtain.
“Mm-hm.” My closed-mouthed response gives me away.
Cam pokes her head in, a shadow falling over her eyes as they meet mine. “Ari…”
“Can you, um, help rinse with conditioner really fast?” I ask, letting her know I don’t want to talk about it, without saying it. “I can’t stand here any longer.”
She pushes the curtain back with a nod, unfazed by the water splashing all over her sweat suit, and gently spins me, grabbing my hair in her hands. “Let’s just wash this out. I brought leave-in for you days ago, just in case, so we can work some of that in once you’re sitting.”
I nod again, and she gets to work. As she’s turning off the water and passing me a towel, I whisper her name.
“Cam?”
“Honey bunny.”
“Thank you.” I don’t mean to cry. “For this. For being here. For all things I can’t remember, but I’m sure you were there for the last few months.”
“I’ll always be here, Ari, you know that.” Cameron sniffles as she ties my gown back into place, gently moving my hair to one side. She slips in front of me, tears wobbling in her eyes. “No matter what.”
I nod again, stepping into my best friend, who hugs me to her.
No matter what, she said.
That’s the scary part about all of this, isn’t it? The reality behind it all.
That this could be the beginning.
How things could get worse.
If that’s the case, where the hell does that leave me?
Stuck in the past… or lost in the future?
Noah
The crisp California air wakes me, and with the cold comes a hangover I didn’t think through. I can’t even roll myself over without wincing, but I manage to make it to my feet and stumble to the cab of my truck. It takes all my might to climb inside, but the sloshing around has my stomach turning as beads of sweat form along my hairline. Spinning, I quickly lean my upper body out the door, just in time to keep from throwing up in my lap.
It feels like forever before my stomach is empty of the poison I fed it, and even then, a dozen dry heaves follow. Huffing, I strip my shirt from my body, using it to wipe the sweat from my face and head. I rinse my mouth out with half the water bottle I left on the seat, using the other half to force down some ibuprofen—something I learned to keep on hand after my first week of practice my freshman year at Avix.
Dropping my head against the headrest, my eyes close again, a pain I’ve never known burning its way along my bones, and it’s got nothing to do with the drumming of my temples.
A month ago, my life felt full for the very first time, imploding with a peacefulness I never knew existed. Twelve days ago, that peace was shattered, completely crushed as my girl was taken by ambulance to fight for her life, and unknowing at the time, our child’s. And last night, last night, my heart was obliterated, pulverized as I looked into the eyes of the most amazing person I have ever known, eyes that looked at me as if I was the prize, as if I was the most amazing thing in her world, only to find them rid of us.
Just like that, my world fell apart, and I don’t know that it can be put back together.
And that’s just too fucking much.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I replay every moment, from the first smile to the last laugh, and then I do it again.
I must pass out again after that, because the next time they open, it’s later. I don’t know by how much, I never did look at the time, but it must have been at least a couple hours as my vomit is dry in the dirt and the pounding in my head has gone from heavy metal to two-tone punk.
It’s beating up my temples, but it’s bearable now.
Lifting my phone from the seat, I check the missed calls and messages, but when neither my mom’s facility nor my girl’s name is among the dozens in red, I toss it.
Instead of heading home, I dip into what’s left of my financial aid from this past semester, and check into a hotel room, where I stay the next two days, repeating the one before it.
It doesn’t help, the distance or the distraction.
Every time my eyes open, reality rocks me to the core.
That’s the thing about alcohol. It’s a temporary fix, one that leads you more fucked up than before. And believe me, I am fucked up.
My mind, my body.
My future.
I clench my jaw, dropping back against the shower wall, holding my breath as the water rolls over my face.
What future?
I slap the wall, and then bang my forehead against it.
And then I fall to the fucking floor.
A hear the footsteps coming before his face pokes around the corner, and I’m almost humiliated enough to turn away.
Almost, but not quite.
The last thing I want is for the guy I’ve worked hand in hand in with all season, coaching him to be the next leader of my position, to see me with my head hung in a room that reeks of liquor, when the man he knows me to be has never once stood in front of him drunk.
But I’m not even standing.
I’m sitting on the floor of a shitty balcony at an overpriced hotel, my back flat against the wall.
“How did you find me?”
“Only four hotels within a five-minute drive from the hospital, knew I’d spot your truck at one of them.” He’s angry, rightfully so. “You need to come back to the hospital.”
Sighing, I drag myself to my feet, and move toward the edge of the banister. Crossing my arm over the cool metal, I lean forward, looking down at the empty playground. “You think I don’t want to be there? That this isn’t killing me? That I don’t feel like shit for walking out and leaving her there?” I glance at him over my shoulder. “Because I do.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“Did she ask for me?”
“Does she have to for you to know she needs you?”
Fuck.
His words are a sharp insult wrapped in glass, cutting as deep as he intended, because no. She doesn’t. That was part of the beauty of us. Her pain was mine as mine was hers. We never needed words to know the other was hurting… but she doesn’t remember that.
I face forward. “She doesn’t remember me, Mason.”
He says nothing for so long, I half expect he’s walked away, but when I turn around, he’s still standing in the same spot.
His lips press into a firm line. “I saw the message she sent you. The one from that night.”
My eyes narrow, small pricks drawing my shoulders up tight. “You read our private conversations?”
“No.” He stands tall, unapologetic. “I didn’t, but I would have if I felt like I needed to. What I did do was take her busted-up phone down to the store, got her a new one and had them flash everything from the old one over. Had to open it up to make sure it worked before they trashed it. Her message to you was the last thing she touched on that phone.”
My chest clenches as I stare at him.
“That’s why you came home that night.” He moves closer. “To come get her. To tell her you love her, too. Right? You love her too?”
Grinding my teeth, I go to push past him. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”
Mason slides in front of me, brows caved. He’s angry, but it’s more than that. The inability to protect the one person he’s spent his life protecting is eating him up.
I know the feeling.
The only two people I have ever had in my life I couldn’t protect.
Mason shakes his head, admitting, “I don’t know why, but in the back of my mind, I told myself my sister cared for you but being with you was her way of doing what she could to be happy while she secretly held on to something else.”
“You mean someone else. There’s no reason not to say his name.” I throw his hand off of me.
“So you do know everything that happened with her and him?”
“Why do you think I gave her space in the first place? Why do you think I pulled back?” I don’t give him time to answer. “It was because he suddenly realized what he was losing and knew he had to at least try. It took him months, years really, to see what I saw the minute I met her, and I can’t even fucking blame him, because the fifty-fifty chance is worth the risk if it ends with her in your arms.”
Mason expression twists. “But she chose you, you know that, so why the hell aren’t you at that hospital where you belong?”
“Because fate stepped in and showed his cards, and I’m not even in the deck, let alone at the bottom of it.”
His jaw ticks angrily, and I glance away.
“Do us both a favor and delete our message thread before you give her the new phone.”
“What, no.” His body tugs backward. “Fuck no. Why you acting like shit’s over? Like it’s done and her memory is gone and not coming back?”
I swallow, the possibility too damn real to stomach. “Maybe it is.”
“Don’t make me knock you out, man.” He glares, his fists clenching at his sides. “What the fuck’s the matter with you? My sister is lost right now, and you give up on her? What kind of shit—”
I’ve got him by the collar, his back slammed against the wall behind us in a split second.
“I will never give up on her.” My body shakes. “Ever.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing getting trashed while she’s barely able to fucking breathe?” he seethes.
“I don’t know!” I admit, the muscles in my neck straining. I tear away from him, running my hands on top of my head until I’m gripping my hair. “I don’t fucking know what I’m doing, man. I don’t know shit. I’m fucking terrified that if I go into that room, I might to do or say something that’ll only make this harder on her, hurt her more, and I couldn’t handle that.”
“You think I’m not?” he rasps, and I bring my eyes back to his. “Trust me, I am, we all are, but she needs… I don’t know what she needs, but it ain’t me. Ain’t Cam or the others. It’s got to be you, man. It has to be.”
Shaking my head, I step around him into the room, his shadow following. “She doesn’t remember us, Mason.”
“I know that.”
“Yeah?” I drop onto the edge of the bed, looking up at him. “Do you know how to tell a woman who thinks she’s only ever been with one man, that you are the father of the child she lost?”
As if he hadn’t paused to consider this side of things, my side, the shitty, helpless fucking side, his muscles go limp and he falls into the chair across from me. Mason drops his head back, staring up at the ceiling in defeat, because he gets it now. He knows what I know.
That you can’t.
You. Just. Fucking. Can’t.
