Chapter 6
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We pile into Sam’s car for the ride over to the hospital. Nobody says a word but Chase’s death grip on my hand speaks volumes. Guilt and worry roll off him in waves and I feel about as useless as a white crayon. When we pull into the parking spot, I give his hand one final squeeze before we get out of the car. The boys get directions to the ICU ward, and I’m given strict instructions by a frumpy nurse to remain in the waiting room as I’m not a blood relation to the patient.
Instructions I ignore completely as soon as she turns around.
As we stand in front of Mrs. Master’s private room, Chase turns to me with a solemn look. I imagine I’m catching a glimpse of him as a child with his boyish pout and large fearful eyes.
“I think this is something I need to do, just me and Sam. Can you hang out around here for a bit, please?” I give him a bear hug and a consoling whisper that I’ll be just outside if he needs me. The brothers disappear into the room that holds their battered mother.
I slide my body down the wall before I cross my legs and let out a shaky breath. My overactive thoughts turn to my own mother. I never asked Mrs. Blackwell what happened the night I found her on the brink of death, and she never offered the information. Did she overdose? Was she hospitalized? Is she just fine and dandy now and up to her old tricks? I loathe that I’m wasting any time questioning her health. Time after time she proved to be monstrous, evil. The wicked dragon.
But haven’t you been called the same?
A monster?
A grim reaper?
A bringer of death and destruction?
I yell at the voice in my head to shut up, but it’s too late, the seed takes root in my brain.
Are we the same?
She was awful and did terrible things. Each worse than the last. But what about the blood on my hands? What about the shitty ways I’ve treated the people around me? The domino effect of pain I’ve caused in this town.
But not anymore. That has to count for something. It’s different now. . . I’m different.
The moment I found out Andrew was still alive, the rage that always burned so bright began to peter out. With some stability, and the help of Chase, over the years I’ve come to accept that some things aren’t meant to be. To be grateful for what I have, and to be a kinder person. Within reason of course, and drug dealers totally don’t count.
I suppose I’ve grown up, so maybe it’s time to let it go. . . to let my hatred of her go.
But could I ever truly forgive her?
As my thoughts conflict and tumble around in my head, the door to Mrs. Masters’ room is flung open and one brother flies out.
“Chase!” I cry out, but he doesn’t show any signs that he heard me.
Jumping to my feet, I trail behind him until he staggers outside and vomits into a patch of grass. Spotting a vending machine nearby, I hustle over to it and swipe my debit card for some water. As I wait for the bottle to drop, Chase hops up on a nearby cement planter. With slumped shoulders, he shoves his face into his hands.
Crawling up to sit beside him, I nudge his knee with the water bottle until he takes it. After swilling some water around and spitting it out, he downs the bottle and crumples it.
“I’m guessing she doesn’t look so good,” I comment, not expecting an answer.
Haunted red eyes meet mine. “She’s conscious but busted to shit. It looks like he took a crowbar to her face and. . . you can see fingerprint impressions on her neck where he fucking choked her. He choked her, Tess. The sweetest woman you ever met—wouldn’t hurt a fucking fly, and he choked her. Worst part? She says it was her fault. Can you fucking believe that? She’s asking why he isn’t there to see her. I had to tell her they locked him up. Goddamn it, this is all my fault. I left her, I wasn’t there to be his punching bag, so he used her instead. I wasn’t there to protect her. Just. Fuck,” he yells the last word into his trembling hands as he rocks back and forth.
I grab his shoulders and force him to face me. “Listen to me, it’s not your fault. You know whose fault it is? Your shit bag of a father. He’s the only person who should be shouldering this burden,” I scold gently.
“But I left her. How could I just leave her with that abusive prick—”
“Stop. Don’t forget that I saw the extent of the damage he inflicted on you in high school. If you stayed, he could have killed you. Maybe not that week, or that month, but it was getting worse and you know it. I left town out of cowardice, but you, you left for fucking survival.” With a shuddering sigh he leans his head against me for support.
Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I hold him tight, and just like he’s done for me countless times before, I whisper in his ear that everything will be okay. After a gentle kiss to his temple, something flashes from the corner of my eye.
A silver car pulls up to let out a passenger, and just like that, with no fanfare or blaring alarms, I see him for the first time in four years. The blood drains from his face as his eyes lock with mine.
Before I can open my mouth to spit out something coherent, his eyes dip down to where my arms cling around Chase. Then, they linger on my lips that I just kissed him with. The torment scrawled across his face makes me wish that the earth would open up and swallow me whole.
We stare at each other in shock, frozen in the moment until someone knocks into him, and the spell is broken. After blinking several times, his features turn to stone. Hurrying forward without a second glance in my direction, he disappears inside the hospital. I try to swallow, but all the moisture is gone from my mouth.
Did that really just happen?
I turn to Chase for confirmation, and the look on his face is all I need. I clutch at the sudden pang in my chest as the air thickens around me. An invisible force wraps around my throat, crushing against my windpipe, squeezing tighter and tighter.
I can’t breathe. Oh, God, why can’t I breathe?
“Tess, look at me. You’re having a panic attack. Remember, focus on me. Try to relax your muscles and take a deep breath.” I do as I’m instructed until the pressure releases and I’m gasping for air.
Once my breathing returns to normal, I find my voice, “I’m fine, stop looking at me like that.”
“You need to talk to him, Tess, just rip it off like a Band-Aid or you’re going to end up having a heart attack or something.”
“Good thing we’re at a hospital then,” I joke.
He doesn’t laugh. “Go, I’ll be here when you get back,” he urges.
I shake my head at the ridiculous notion. “You need me more than anyone else right now, stop being crazy.”
He straightens. “A little time alone to. . . process, would do me some good. I have to get my head on straight before I go back and visit with Ma. So the real question here is, what the fuck are you waiting for, Reap?”
This time I feel it. The pull, a tug, maybe even fate itself demanding that I go to him. I look back to Chase who only nods toward the hospital. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to let my mind, rather than my heart, take the reins.
I fail miserably, and without one more thought, I run.
My boots pound against the pavement, thundering as loud as my heartbeat. I squeeze through the impossibly slow mechanical doors, then shove past a loud woman on her phone until I’m standing behind him. I reach out with a trembling hand to tap his shoulder, but snatch my hand back with a sharp intake of breath.
Andrew.
My bones turn to stone, and the words in my throat dry up. My gaze burns into the back of his neck as I choke back tears. Pain bursts in my chest and I clutch at my heart, knowing without a doubt that every second I fought to let him go, every minute I spent trying to forget him, was fucking pointless. I’ve lived four years without sunlight, and now that I soak in the warmth of his presence, even if the rays of his disgust and blame scorch me, I refuse to return to the darkness. I’ll go blind before I turn away.
He continues onward, but I’m still rooted to the floor. I open my mouth to call out to him, but nothing happens. As my shoulders sag and my knees threaten to crash to the tiles, he stops abruptly, just a few paces ahead.
With a troubled sigh, he whirls to face me. He knew I was there all along.
Could he feel me?
I pin my clenched fists to my side. All I want is to reach out, to touch him and to make sure I’m not trapped in a lucid dream.
Strangely enough, Andrew Blackwell looks the same, and yet. . . completely different, which even for my muddled brain, is nonsense. In his eyes, I find the familiar boy who loved me unconditionally, but when I blink, a stranger has taken his place. His disheveled blond hair is the only boyish feature that remains. Everything else about him, including his gaze, seems to have hardened with time. He’s in much better shape than he was in high school. Defined muscles shape his arms, and a black shirt stretches across his broad chest. He’s muscular but lean, unlike the bulky physique of Chase. Dark stubble lines a strong jaw, and of course there’s his eyes. Emerald green and blazing with an emotion I’m too scared to name.
Where a boy once stood is now a man.
I would tear out my franticly beating heart for a chance to see the crooked smile he reserved just for me, but his jaw is set and his lips pursed into a straight line.
“Andrew…” Like a prepubescent boy my voice cracks and changes pitch about halfway through his name.
Where do I start? What the hell can I possibly say?
I don’t have to wonder long.
His soft voice breaks the silence. “You’re back.” He takes a hesitant step away from me, and once again I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too, the crackle of electricity that even now, after years of being separated, still ignites whenever we are close.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” I respond stupidly.
His icy gaze sends a shudder through me. “And. . . you’re not alone. I’m uh, really happy for you guys, or whatever. Tell Chase I said hi. Look, I gotta go, but it was nice to see you, Tessa.” His voice is mechanical, and without a second glance, he turns on his heels and continues on his way.
At least he tries too.
“Wait.” Without my brain having time to process logic or common sense, I lunge forward like a lunatic and grab desperately onto his arm, forcing his body to spin back toward me. Tears spring from my eyes as I reach up and wrap my arms around him. His eyes flash with alarm, but I ignore them and bury my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of cinnamon.
The world stills as I cling to the prince who stole my heart and promised me the world. While my mind screams for me to stop, my heart still calls the shots and I nuzzle closer against him. I savor the way my body fits perfectly with his, like two pieces of a puzzle, and I pray to whatever god will listen for this moment to never end.
Much to my surprise his stiff, unwelcoming body relaxes against me within seconds. I gasp when an arm closes around my waist and sweeps me into the air, crushing me against his solid chest. Taking a handful of hair into his grip, he cradles my head against the soft material of his shirt, and for a split-second, I swear I feel him press a soft kiss near my temple. I can hear his heartbeat, it’s as if a stampede of horses are trampling through his chest.
In the blink of an eye, I’m released and my feet are back on solid ground. I blink rapidly in shock. It all happens so fast I can’t be sure I didn’t imagine the whole thing.
His shoulders square off as he turns his head to look anywhere but my bewildered expression. “T—that was a mistake.”
Like a punch to the stomach, his words knock the wind out of me. I should walk away, but wherever he’s concerned, I turn out to be a true glutton for punishment.
“Why?” I whisper, afraid of the truth. Terrified to hear that he can never forgive me for what I’ve done. Mortified to know that he hates me with every fiber of his being.
Reluctantly, he drags his weary gaze to mine. “Tessa, I can’t do this today. I don’t know why you’re back, and frankly I don’t care. Marybeth is waiting for me.”
“Andrew pl—” I snap my mouth shut as it dawns on me where we are having this conversation. A hospital.
He’s meeting Marybeth here?
“What’s going on? Why is she in the hospital? Where is she, Andrew?” My voice is shrill, I’m unable to hide the raw fear.
Blossom.
His features harden. “I think maybe you should just go, Tessa.”
I take a deep breath. Never in a million years did I imagine our reunion would end up with me punching Andrew in the face, but that’s going to happen in the near future if he doesn’t tell me what the fuck is going on.
“She’s in room three twenty-six, dear.” I whip around to see Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell a few paces behind us. By the way his father looks away nervously, and how his mother has her eyebrow raised curiously, they witnessed our entire interaction. I lock eyes with Mrs. Blackwell expecting disgust, but I find relief and a familiar, kind smile.
I need to tell her everything, spill my heart out and beg forgiveness from the only woman who treated me like a daughter.
Like a fallen angel, I want to reclaim my wings and cross to their side of heaven to return to a family who truly loved me.
Instead, I choke out a thank you and flee toward the elevators.
I have to find my Blossom.