SOMETHING’S WRONG.
The house is too quiet. I’m not used to the quiet.
Cass headed out not long after we got home, wanting to get some practice in at the batting cages. We’re okay, or as okay as we can be less than a week after he saw me almost balls deep in his sister. On the drive from her place to ours, I got the big brother speech I’d been waiting for and he’s probably been waiting to give me. The one I would’ve gotten if Amelia and I hadn’t started out in such a complicated way.
Don’t break her heart, don’t get her pregnant, etcetera, etcetera.
I assured him that neither would be happening. The former, never. The latter, not any time soon.
Now, I’ve got a rare moment alone, and I’m not sure I like it. After the week I had, the silence should be a welcome reprieve, but it’s the opposite. It feels unnatural, and I weirdly long for Sofia’s constant chattering, Mom’s inquisitions, Amelia’s soft laughter.
Sighing, I decide to use this opportunity to catch up on school work. Exams and deadlines are fast approaching, and I’ve fallen behind due to being preoccupied with a certain redhead and her sulking brother.
I don’t even get an hour of peace before I’m jolted out of the essay-hole I fell into by my phone ringing loudly and persistently. I fish it out of my pocket, gut churning at the caller ID belonging to someone who tends to only call when something’s wrong. “Hey, you guys home?”
Kate ignores my greeting completely, cutting me off before I even finish speaking. “Have you seen Amelia?”
Panicked is not an emotion I’m used to hearing from Kate, and it makes me sit up straighter, sends alarm bells ringing in my head. “Isn’t she supposed to be with you?”
There’s a brief beat of silence before Kate continues, a tremor in her voice, “She didn’t show, and she’s not answering her phone.”
A chill goes up my shine but I shake it off, trying to be rational. “She probably fell asleep or something.” A reasonable suggestion—that girl lives for naps. Sleeps like the dead too. I’m always the one shutting off her alarm in the morning.
Shoving away my forgotten essay, I stand and reach for my car keys. “I’ll come get you guys.”
“No, don’t,” Kate dismisses me quickly. “We’ll get an Uber. Can you go check on her?” A shaky sigh sounds and it’s close to the worst noise I’ve ever heard. “I’ve got a really bad feeling, Nick.”
Fuck.
I agree quickly—I know better than to argue with her, mostly because she’s always right. For once though, I fucking pray she isn’t.
My hands shake as I race to my truck. I force myself to imagine Amelia’s face when she inevitably answers the door in a few minutes, sleepy and confused from a nap, and annoyed that we all descend into a blind panic when she does something as simple as not answer her phone.
Despite my rationalization, I still break every speed limit in a rush to her apartment. Her car’s not parked outside, I notice as I sprint upstairs, and I can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad thing.
No one answers when I knock.
I knock a little harder and still nothing, so I go harder again until I’m pounding on the door and there’s no possible way she could sleep through the ruckus.
I jolt when the door at the end of the hall flies open and a furious figure appears. Amelia’s neighbour’s—the one they call Pitbull—angry gaze lands on me, morphing to confusion for a split second before he folds his arms calmly and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, man. I thought you were the other guy.’
Alarm bells. So many fucking alarm bells. “Other guy?”
“Blonde hair, blue eyes, complete jackass,” the guy explains and my heart fucking drops. “Damian or something.”
Dylan.
“He was here?” My voice breaks, a little from worry, a little from fear, and a whole lot from pure fucking anger. Not even a beating and a fucking restraining order are enough to get through his thick skull that Amelia doesn’t want him.
The guy nods, his expression shifting to annoyance. “Almost broke the damn door down.”
One second I’m outside her apartment, the next I’m in my truck. The road ahead of me seems endless as I drive aimlessly, no fucking clue where I’m going, no fucking clue where she is. A hospital? I dismiss the thought quickly; last time Cass and I had to practically drag her there kicking and screaming, that’s not the first place she’d go. My house, maybe? That’s where she went last time. Unless Dylan fucking kidnapped her or something. Did Dylan ever see her? Did they leave together?
My fist hits the steering wheel, a flurry of shouted expletives flying out of my mouth. Why the fuck didn’t I stick around and get the whole story?
The more I drive, the worse that gut feeling gets, the one screaming at me that she’s not okay. Something is so fucking wrong, I know it.
I try to stem the panic growing inside me like a weed as I frantically dial Cass’ number. I don’t give a chance to speak when the call connects, blurting out the same thing Kate asked me as I turn a corner. “Have you seen Amelia?”
I don’t hear his reply.
I’m too focused on the chaos playing out before me.
Flashing lights.
Blaring sirens.
An ambulance.
Men in uniform sprinting around an overturned car in the middle of the road.
Her car.
I can’t fucking breathe.
“Nick? What the fuck is going on?” Cass’ shouts are drowned out by the sound of tires squealing as I abruptly stop the truck, stumbling out the door and sprinting towards the wreck. Her name floats through the air in a scream, and it takes a moment to realize it’s me screaming.
Her car is a wreck. A ball of crushed metal. The driver’s side is a gaping hole, the door frame warped and in a heap on the ground, surrounded by broken glass and splatters of something dark and rust-colored. I can’t see her, I can’t see her anywhere, in the car, on the ground, nowhere.
An officer catches me around the waist, stopping me before I can get to what used to be a vehicle, before I get to her.
Movement in my peripheral catches my eye, and I turn just in time to see a stretcher being loaded onto an ambulance. A glimpse of red hair and pale skin stained red is all I see before the ambulance doors slam shut and the vehicle drives off.
No.
I turn to shove the officer off me, but my attention lands on something else. There’s another car, one with a destroyed hood and a deployed airbag on the driver’s side. My eyes flit around the scene until they land on a second ambulance.
A disgustingly familiar man perches on the back, hiding underneath a blanket, looking guilty as fucking sin.
Unharmed.
Not a scratch on him, not a single drop of his blood shed.
Pure rage engulfs me as I wipe away the wetness on my cheeks and force myself to walk calmly in his direction.
His eyes land on me and widen dramatically. Bloodshot eyes. Drunk eyes. I spot the handcuffs suffocating his wrists and everything snaps into place, everything I already suspected rings true. I snap, lunging for Dylan with a roar. ‘What the fuck did you do?‘
My fingers barely brush him before I’m yanked backward, away from him, a man in uniform on either side of me with their hands wrapped around my arms. I struggle against them, yelling at the top of my lungs, promising the one thing in this world he actually deserves, the one thing he’s earned. ‘I’ll fucking kill you.’
He looks terrified and I love it. I thrive off that look in his eyes, the one that tells me he believes me, that he knows if I wasn’t being held back I’d be wringing his fucking neck with my bare hands.
Voices urge me to calm down but I ignore them, thrashing against the restricting hands with everything I’m worth. I want to hurt him, I want to hurt him so fucking bad. Do every single sickening thing he did to Amelia but a million times worse. My arms are numb by the time someone carts him away, shoving him in the back of a police car, hidden from my murderous gaze.
As soon as he disappears from sight, the fight leaves me. My legs shake, threatening to give out, so I sink down to rest on my haunches. Just for a second. Just until I get myself together. My chest heaves with deep breaths, the heels of my palms digging into my eyes in an attempt to rip the sight of this fucking mess out of them and stem the hot liquid burning them.
Fucking get it together, Nick.
Sucking in cold air, I straighten up, wiping my hands off my jeans. I feel like I’m working on autopilot as I find someone, anyone, who can tell me what hospital she’s going to.
My whole body shakes as I get back into my truck. I’m not sure if it’s smart for me to drive, but I know that I fucking need to. I need to get to her.
Cass’ voice is still echoing around the interior of the truck, reminding me that he’s still on the phone, snapping me back to reality slightly. “Nick, fucking answer me!”
“Cass,” he goes silent at the sound of my trembling voice, “there was an accident.”
The white walls of the waiting room hurt my eyes.
Everything is too clean, too sterile, too lifeless. I rest my elbows on my knees, cradling my head in my hands, massaging the back of my head trying to soothe the ache.
I stop doing that quickly when I feel the ghost of softer, daintier hands doing the same thing.
Straightening up, I stretch my legs out in front of me, groaning internally when my stiff joints pop. I’ve been sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair for what feels like hours but must be less than one.
They won’t let me see her because I’m not family. Won’t tell me anything. She could be lying lifeless on a cold slab of metal in the morgue and I wouldn’t fucking know.
I called everyone to pass the time. Her dad, Lynn, Kate, Ma. Every phone call was the same; short, solemn, rife with disbelief. Her dad sobbed, stammered ‘please not again.‘ He’s catching the first flight out—he should be here by tonight. I make a mental reminder to ask someone else to get him from the airport because I don’t think I can move.
The automatic emergency room doors squealing open catch my attention. I lift my head as a tall, panicked figure flies through them.
Cass doesn’t see me at first. He goes straight for the nurse, the same one who’s been shooing me away for however long. They have a fast, frantic conversation, on the brink of an argument, very similar to the conversation I had. The nurse sighs and glares at Cass, who’s barely containing himself, before pointing sternly in my direction.
Something flashes in Cass’ expression when he finally spots me. With one last snap at the nurse, he stomps my way. The chair beside me creaks as he slumps into it, our shoulders brushing as we breathe a synchronous frustrated breath. “They won’t tell me anything because I’m not legally family,” he seethes through bared teeth, his fists clenched.
I don’t say anything, because there’s nothing to say. Nothing I can say to fix this.
“Was it him?”
I nod stiffly.
“Is he alive?”
Another nod, even stiffer this time, my whole body screaming with tension.
Cass scoffs, unimpressed, folding his arms as he turns to face the wall opposite us again.
That’s the extent of our conversation.
We sit in silence, alternating between watching the clock and begging nurses for information, being refused every time. A doctor comes out at one point, both of us straightening when we overhear him ask if Amelia Hanlon’s family is present and the nurse nods at us. Our hopes are quickly dashed when the doctor only offers a quick glance before striding off again.
When the others arrive, we hear them before we see them. Or more specifically, we hear her; Luna storms through the waiting room, yelling loudly at nothing in particular. But there’s no force behind her screeches, not like usual. It’s a show, a charade, the mask she chooses to wear. She pounces on the nurse, making vicious demands but there’s no fire behind them. I wonder if she knows she’s clinging to Jackson’s wrist where he holds her by the hips, as if she might fall over without the support.
Ben sinks into the chair beside me, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen. A trembling hand slips into mine. “Do you know anything?”
I can only shake my head and stare blankly at the white floor, my view obstructed by Kate crouching in front of me. Bracing her hands on my knees, she dips her head to force me to look at her. Her bottom lip wobbles dangerously, the wetness in her eyes so fucking jarring. “She’ll be okay,” she whispers unconvincingly. It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself as well as me.
For once, Kate does not know something.
I can’t find it in me to acknowledge the words meant to provide me comfort. My mind instantly rushes to what the fuck I’m going to do if she isn’t, coming up blank because I have no idea.
I have no fucking idea.
Kate sighs and stands, her tired, watery gaze burning into me as she takes the seat across from me, reminding me that as much as I can’t imagine my life without Amelia, it’s surely only amplified for her, Luna and Cass.
Luna collapses beside her, grasping her hand tightly. Jackson takes her other hand, the three of them linked tightly. My free hand slips into Cass’, his grip vice-like as he clutches me. I don’t think any of us are particularly religious, but fuck, I swear we all pray to whatever or whoever is listening with every ounce of energy we have.
And then, we wait.
