My heart is pounding so hard that I can feel it in my throat, and when I swallow, it feels like there’s a lump trying to close off my airway.
Penelope cries, putting her hands over her face for a moment before she brushes them across her cheeks and turns to me. Her green eyes are bloodshot and wild, mascara smudged and messy on her cheeks, and she gasps for air one last time before her sobs slow.
“I can’t,” she whispers, splitting my heart in two. “It hurts too much.”
“P…” I start, but then slam my mouth shut. What else can I say? How else can I prove to her that she’s all I want?
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head and look out at the dark water. “You don’t need to be sorry.”
Her hand finds mine. “You meant so much to me, H. You still do. There are parts of me that will always belong to you, but being the person who loves you hurts so fucking much, and I can’t put myself through it again.”
“You’re acting as if I’m still some eighteen-year-old kid – I’m not, Penelope. I’m an adult. A sober one, one who has his shit together, one who knows how to handle his mental illness. You can’t hold me to a standard that’s based on my past actions when you don’t know the me that grew up,” I say calmly, trying not to let tears fill my burning eyes.
“But I don’t know this version of you, Hayden! I only know the one that destroyed me!” she shouts, her hands raising in exclamation.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying to you.” I sigh from my nose, pressing my lips together. “It isn’t fair that you’re just shutting me down based on what happened almost five fucking years ago.”
She scoffs. “Fair? You want to talk about fair, Hayden?”
“No,” I say, rubbing my hand down my face as I sigh again in frustration.
She sucks her teeth. “One day and we’re already at each other’s throats.”
“Because that’s what we do!” I yell, then take a breath, squeezing my hands into fists in the sand. “We fucking fight, because we’re so similar, it’s impossible not to, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t good for each other. You act as if there were no good moments, that all I gave you was headaches, when really, it was a fucking healthy amount of fighting for two people who are stubborn and possessive.”
“That’s what you want? You want to be with someone who you think is stubborn and possessive?” She rolls her eyes. “She sounds like a damn treat.”
“Yes, I do. Because I love those things about you, along with everything else. You–” My phone rings, cutting me off, and I pull it from my pocket to check who it is.
I swallow, looking at Penelope through the darkness. “It’s the hospital. I’m sorry, I have to answer this.”
She nods. “Yeah, of course.”
I slide the button on my phone, answering the call. “Hello?”
“Mr. Monroe, it’s Dr. Michaela, I think you should come. It’s time.”
My face burns, and my heart starts to race for a whole other reason. Swallowing over the sudden dryness of my throat, I nod. “Okay, I’m on my way.”
Hanging up the phone, I take a breath. “I need to go, it’s my dad.”
“Go, it’s okay,” she says, standing up when I do.
Taking a shaky breath, I look at her, asking something of her I know I probably shouldn’t. “Will you come with me?”
She finds my eyes through the darkness. “Yeah.”
When we get to the hospital, we race up to my father’s floor and to the nurses’ station.
“Is he dead?” I ask in way of greeting, and the nurse looks at me like I’m insane.
“Who?” she asks, not recognizing me from the other day.
“Sorry.” I take a breath. “James Monroe. I’m his son.”
She gives me a sad smile. “Let me call your father’s doctor.”
“So, yes? He’s dead?” I say, my gut dropping to the ground. “That’s what you mean, right? Because the doctor has to be the one to tell me.”
Penelope’s hand rests on my lower back while the nurse dials some numbers on the phone, and I feel tears filling my eyes. “Just give me a minute, and I can get an update, okay? Why don’t you sit down?” She waves her hand to the chairs lining the wall.
“Okay,” I breathe, blinking back my tears as I walk over to the chairs and sit down, Penelope sitting next to me.
“Are you okay?” she whispers, and I can feel her staring at me. I don’t look back, though. I just nod my head slowly.
After a minute, Dr. Michaela comes down the hallway, and I spring up to meet her. She grabs my hand, then wraps the other on top of it as well. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Monroe. We lost him ten minutes ago.”
I squeeze her hand as tears finally spill over my eyelids and onto my cheeks. Penelope’s hand finds my lower back again, and it makes more moisture drip down my face.
“If there’s anything you need, we’re here, okay? Would you like to see him?” she asks tenderly.
I nod, brushing my wet cheeks. “Sure.”
“I’ll wait here,” Penelope says, and I find her eyes, needing the strength I know I’ll find in them. We stand there for a moment, our gazes connecting like a magnetic pull is growing between us, and when I finally feel confident enough, I turn to face the doctor.
She leads me down the hall to my father’s room, where the lights are dimmed, and the blinds are drawn. The machines are still on around him, but they no longer make noises to indicate a heartbeat. His body is still and lifeless underneath the sheet they’ve pulled up to his chest, but he still looks like him.
I sit down in the chair at his bedside, the same chair I was complaining about this morning, and grab his hand.
“I’ll leave you alone with him. I’ll be just outside the door,” Dr. Michaela says, and I look up at her to nod. I can’t find any words to say, so I hope nodding is enough, and when she leaves the room and the door shuts behind her, I let myself sob.
“You were such a bastard for so long.” I sniffle, squeezing my father’s hand. “And by the time we were finally okay, you had to go and die? How is that fair to me? How is that fair to you?”
I shake my head, wiping a hand down my face and taking a deep breath.
“I love you, Dad. Even though you didn’t love me for too long.”
I stand up, lean down and kiss his forehead, then I leave the room. Dr. Michaela is there, and she reaches out for me, holding my hand again. “Again, Mr. Monroe, I am so sorry.”
“Thank you.” I nod, swallowing back my emotions. “What happens now? What do I need to do?”
“There’re a few things for you to sign, then we have people who can help you with funeral arrangements, getting him transferred and stuff like that. Is that something you want to do today?”
“Yes, please,” I answer, taking a deep breath. “I need to get back to California, so I would like to get this done as quickly as possible.”
Part of me realizes that may sound a bit heartless from the outside looking in, but I’m feeling so much anxiety creep into my stomach, and I just want to get the fuck out of Luxington. I never want to come back here; I want to forget about every bad thing that tainted this town for me.
“Of course,” Dr. Michaela says. “I’ll get things moving for you, okay?”
“I appreciate it.” Trying my best to smile at her, I watch as she heads to the nurses’ station and sits down at a computer. Penelope walks over, putting a hand on my arm.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, wiping the back of my hand under my nose. “Yeah.”
“What do you need?” she asks in a gentle tone, her bright eyes finding mine. “What can I do?”
Shaking my head, my breath quakes as I blow it out. “I don’t know.”
She nods. “When my dad died, I felt like I needed to let it all stay inside, and I promise it isn’t the way to do it, H. Feel the whole thing, or it’s going to haunt you. I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”
“Will you?” I ask, tipping my head. “Because what I gathered from our conversation is that you want nothing to do with me.”
“Don’t do that,” she breathes. “You know I care about you, and I want to help in any way I can.”
I clear my throat, pulling my phone from my pocket. “I need to make some calls.”
“Okay. I’ll be sitting over there if you need anything.”
When she’s walked back to the seat she was sitting in before, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Logan’s phone number.
“Hey,” she answers, sounding like she’s in a tunnel.
“My dad died,” I tell her quietly, tucking myself against the wall.
“Oh, fuck. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, but stop when I choke on the word. My throat is swelling with emotion again, tears filling my eyes. Turning my body so I’m facing away from where Penelope is sitting, I close my eyes and feel the tears fall down my cheeks.
“Hayden,” Logan says. “It’s okay to be sad about this. It doesn’t make you weak.”
“Where are you?” I ask, changing the subject and clearing my throat.
“I’m on a plane heading to Philly,” she says, then pauses. “Do you need me to come to North Carolina?”
“No,” I say. “I’m going to have him cremated, and then hop a flight home.”
“No funeral?” she asks.
“No, I don’t want to deal. I just want to get the fuck out of Luxington, Lo.” I sigh, rubbing my jaw. “This place is just a cesspool of trauma.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “It hasn’t been the best trip.”
“What else happened?” I can hear Carson talking to someone in the background.
Laughing humorlessly, I run my hand down my face. “I ran into Penelope – who’s engaged, by the way – and I poured my soul out to her. She said no.”
“Oh, Hayden. I thought you weren’t thinking about her anymore?”
“I ran into her, and it all just came rushing back,” I say, then Dr. Michaela is tapping on my shoulder, pulling my attention. “Let me call you back, Lo, the doctor is here. Have a safe flight.”
I hang up before she can respond and turn to face the doctor.
“I have the registrar coming to meet with you, as well as the representative for the funeral home that we partner with here. If there’s someone specific you want to deal with, you’re welcome to have them come here as well,” she says, and when I nod, she continues. “The hospital has a few papers for you to sign as well, since you’re his next of kin. Just release forms and insurance stuff. But this shouldn’t take too long. We would hate to burden you with too much when you’re grieving.”
Nodding again, I thank her, then she leads me down the hall to a conference room, where I’ll be meeting with everyone she’s gathered for me. When I’m seated at the table, and she’s closed me in the room by myself, I pull out my phone and call Serena.
She answers on the third thing. “Yes?”
“I need you to get in contact with my lawyer and my father’s lawyer. Book them tickets into Raleigh and get them whatever accommodations they may need. I need this done tonight.”
“Anything else, Hayden?” I hear her typing on her computer, probably already booking flights.
“Yes.” I sigh. “Make sure they keep quiet. I need to get things figured out before we publicize this.”
“I’m going to take a giant leap and guess your father died?” she asks, her voice small.
“He did,” I say, rubbing a hand down my face.
“Do you want me to fly out there and help with funeral arrangements or anything?”
Sighing, I think over her question for a moment, then shake my head. “I’m handing it.”
“Alright.” She continues typing on her computer. “Anything else?”
“Not right now. Thank you, Serena.”
She breathes for a moment. “I’m incredibly sorry for your loss, Hayden.’
After meeting with a few different people who deal with deaths at the hospital, I’ve signed away the rights to my father’s body and they’ve booked his transfer to the funeral home that will cremate him. I feel like this day has been an entire week long, and I’m sure it’s showing on my face when I walk back out to the main area of the floor and find Penelope still sitting in the same chair.
“Hey,” I say, and she stands up. “Sorry that took so long, you didn’t have to stay.”
She smiles softly. “I wanted to.”
Exhaling heavily, I run a hand down my face. “I’m exhausted.”
“I can imagine,” she says, rubbing my arm with her hand. “Are you hungry or anything? Do you want me to come back to the hotel with you?”
“You don’t have to do this, P.” I shake my head, feeling pathetic and small. “I know where you stand with everything.”
“Hayden.” She squeezes my arm. “Stop. Let’s go get some food, then I’ll stay with you to make sure you’re okay.”
I slide my hand to hers, wishing I could keep it there. “Thank you.”
