Revival

by Kirkpatrick, S.

I refuse to let myself consider worst-case scenarios, but she was in such bad shape when we found her… Never in a million years did I expect to find my beautiful Breezie with so many cuts, bruises, and broken bones. She was almost unrecognizable.

  If Max hadn’t killed that cocksucker, I would have. The things he did to those girls… It’s unthinkable. No one should ever have to go through that.

  “Breelle’s injuries were extensive when she came in. The number of open wounds, broken bones, blood loss, dehydration, and her malnourished state was enough to put her in critical condition.

  She also came in with a subdermal hematoma, meaning a massive collection of bleeding on the brain. We were able to drain it, but it’s revealed a traumatic brain injury. We won’t know if she has any deficits, or the extent of her them until she wakes up. She’s currently in a coma and breathing through a ventilator. We’ve done all we can do to this point. Now the fight is hers.”

  I drop to my knees in the middle of the waiting room, a pain tearing its way through my chest at the prospect of my Breezie never waking up. My hands clutch my chest, trying like hell to hold myself together. I let go of all the pent up emotions that I’ve held on to for so many hours. I lose my fucking mind in the middle of the hospital waiting room, not giving a damn who sees me.

  Ryan and Sonya surround me, one on each side, holding me as I fall apart between them. I cry so hard I can barely breathe, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to stop.

  No! She fought so goddamned hard! This can’t end here. I can’t accept that.

  I just got her.

  I just got Abel to accept us.

  I’m finally allowed to love her…

  ***

  It’s been five weeks since Bree came out of surgery. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t sat in this exact chair. I’ve cried and begged every fucking god, deity, and statue that may be out there to hear my plea and bring her back to me.

  If I’m not at the shop, I’m here. The nurses have had so much pity on me that they’ve brought me in a cot to sleep in next to her.

  But the cot is too far away.

  The cot doesn’t let me feel her chest rising and falling with every breath that the machines forces her body to take. It doesn’t let me feel her hand in mine. It doesn’t let me see if the color is coming back to her cheeks.

  So I sleep in this chair.

  I have every night for five weeks and I will continue to do so until she takes her first unassisted breath. Until she wakes up and comes home to me.

  Abel and I made a promise to the universe the day we found them. We wouldn’t go back home until we brought the girls home. Well, I haven’t brought my girl home yet. So I haven’t been home. It’s simple logistics as far as I’m concerned.

  Abel and Brody have brought me everything I need from the house. I shower and change at the shop, eat in my car, and sleep here beside the woman I’ve been silently in love with since I was a kid.

  I refuse to accept a future in a world where she doesn’t exist. Call it denial, call it insanity, call it whatever the fuck you want. But until there’s no hope left… I won’t give up the thought of seeing her indigo blue eyes open again. I won’t stop begging the world to bring her back to me. I just won’t do it.

  “Dex, why don’t you go home and catch a few hours of sleep in your own bed. Abel and I will call you if anything changes.” Max says.

  It’s the most amount of words she’s spoken since they took her immobilizer out last week, and I hate every single one of them.

  “How many times are we going to have this conversation before everyone just stops badgering me about this?” I snap, eyeing her and Abel.

  “Dude, don’t be a dick to her. She’s just trying to help. She’s worried about you. We all are.” Abel says, shooting me a glare that reminds me of who the fuck I’m talking to.

  I didn’t mean to snap at her. Under normal circumstances, I would never dream of talking to Max like that. But I’m so sick of hearing everyone trying to kick me out of this fucking room. I can’t leave her! Why can’t they see that?

  Even if I listened and went home, I wouldn’t sleep at all anyways. I couldn’t bear being that far away from her. I can’t even sleep on a fucking cot at the foot of her bed, afraid that she’ll slip through my fingers in the night and I won’t even notice. How the hell would I be able to sleep all the way in Deacon Hill?

  I get up out and out of my seat, slowly walking to the other side of the bed where Max sits on Abel’s lap. I press a kiss to her cheek and pull her in for a hug, feeling like an asshole for taking my emotions out on her.

  “I’m sorry, Mama. You didn’t deserve that.” I say, calling her by the nickname that Brody tagged her with before this shit show happened.

  “No, I didn’t. But I get it, Dex. I really do.”

  That’s Max for you, sweet as hell, forgiving, and loyal to a fault. Though I must admit, the fact that she was so easy to forgive me makes me feel like even more of an asshole. She’s been through hell and back, same as Bree. Yet here I am, being a dick to her, just because she’s trying to take care of me in the only way that she knows how?

  What the hell is happening to me? That’s not who I am…

  I return to my seat, shaking my head, disappointed in myself. I take Bree’s hand in mine, the same way I’ve done for the last 35 days. It’s the only way I’m able to gain any peace anymore.

  “I lived without her for so long, I just don’t think I have it in me to do it anymore. I need her to wake up, I need her to breathe on her own. I need her to ask for a cup of tea or a Baby Ruth. Something, anything. I’ll even listen to her shit taste in music without complaining about it for the rest of my life. I just… I need her to wake up. I need her to come back to me.”

  “Trust me, man, we all get it. We’re all feeling the same way. She’s my baby sister for crying out loud. I feel this shit like a lead weight on my chest every hour of every day. But she’ll come back to us. I have to believe that.”

  I look to my best friend, the man who looks so much like his sister that it hurts to be around him right now. I thought at first it would be comforting, anything to keep her present in my life. But it isn’t. Their eyes are identical and seeing those resting in his face is just…

  Wrong.

  Needing to change the conversation before I start crying again, I turn to Max and go with a topic that’s sure to bring some happiness to the room.

  “How’d your latest appointment go, Mama?”

  She instinctively drops her hands to her stomach and smiles, lighting up the room with her joy. Envy squeezes tight in my chest as Abel places his hand on her belly and leans to the side to plant a kiss on her temple. I’m so jealous of what they have together that I have to choke it back an audible gulp, turning away.

  I look back at my Breezie and brush a loose piece of hair out of her face as Max relays the latest details of her pregnancy.

  “It’s going really well so far. No more all-night-long sickness. I’m 13 weeks and the babies are the size of a lemon. Can you believe that? I have two little lemons growing inside of me right now!” She giggles.

  Abel shakes his head in amusement, holding on to his girl as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he lets her go.

  “If you’re gonna keep referring to them as food items, then no more eating those food items. It’s weird.” Abel tells her, scrunching up his nose.

  “It’s not my fault!” Max protests. “Number one, the babies tell me what to eat, not the other way around. And number two, all the apps and all the books refer to them as food, I just go along with what they say.”

  Her smile is so bright that it physically hurts me. I so badly want to be happy for them, but I can’t. If that makes me a selfish bastard, then so be it. Until Bree wakes up and smiles at me… I’ll just remain numb.

  “Anyway…” Max continues on. “Their heart rates are strong and steady. We should be able to find out in abo
ut a month or so if they’re boys or girls.”

  I respond accordingly, only half invested in the conversation to begin with. I see Abel out of the corner of my eye, staring at his girl with the most profound adoration radiating off of him in waves. He loves his woman with a fierceness that can’t be described.

  That’s what I want with Bree. Just her, no one else. I’ve never had thoughts like this about anyone else before, it’s always been her. I remember when we were growing up and she went with some ass-hat to her junior prom. I may or may not have threatened him with his life to keep him from trying to get lucky on prom night. The black eye healed in time for the pictures she insisted on, but the fear in his eyes when he saw me in her living room the night he came to pick her up…

  It was still there.

  Exactly as I’d hoped for.

  I made damn sure that fucker treated her like a queen all night long. I refused to let him treat her like a prom night conquest, no matter what bullshit he swore to my face. I was a horny teenager not long before that, I know the shit that was going through his head.

  And I refused to let Breezie fall victim to his plans.

  Paying fifty bucks to another guy to keep an eye on them while I waited at home with Abel was the best money I’d ever spent. My guy text me all night, letting me know what was going on. There were a few times her date tried to back out of our agreement, trying to get Bree to leave early. But a spilled drink here, or a dance request there, constructed by yours truly… It kept her at the prom, making memories that were more important than a romp in the backseat with a guy who had no intentions of respecting her afterward.

  If that makes me fucked up, I’ll wear that crown proudly. I’ve always made her safety, and her happiness, my top priority. Whether she knew it or not, whether she liked it or not… I always took care of her.

  I relive that night silently in my mind, squeezing her hand as if I can push those memories in the recesses of her mind.

  She came down her staircase looking like a floating fucking angel, breezing past us like she was flying. That’s how she always looks when she’s really passionate or excited about something. It’s been that way since we were kids. That’s why I nicknamed her Breezie.

  Her dress was a pale pink that poofed out like a Disney princess and I swear on everything, I saw my future in her smile. Her hair was done up in curls and pins that one of the neighbor ladies had offered to do as a surprise. Gone was the nervous, girl I was consumed with. She’d been replaced by a confident, carefree woman.

  A woman who didn’t have a care in the world how fucking hard it was for me to give her a hug, kiss her on the cheek, and push her into the arms of a fucking undeserving teenage boy. A boy that I spent the rest of the evening fantasizing on ways to kill with my bare hands.

  No one knew how much that fucking killed me.

  No one knew how in love with her I was.

  No one knew the pain I was in.

  No one understood why I was suddenly in a better mood after she came home and went to bed.

  And no one ever put the pieces together.

  I was such a goddamned fool to wait so long before I said anything. I should have manned the fuck up and told her so many years ago…

  Wake up baby, open your eyes. Let me know you’re still fighting.

  Please.

  The rhythmic beep, beep, beep of her ventilator lets me know that I’m still waiting on my miracle.

  ***

  Max and Abel left hours ago. The new shift of nurses just finished their rounds and I sit in my designated spot beside Bree’s bed, holding her hand in mine. My index finger is angled upward to ensure that I can feel her pulse beat against my skin.

  This is the only solace I have for now.

  This is how I remind myself that she’s alive and that she’s fighting to come back to us.

  I suppose I should be content with it, but I’m a greedy fucking bastard where this girl is concerned. I always want more. More sass, more crazy demands, more jabs to the gut with her dainty elbow.

  Just more...

  At that thought, I look to her inner arm and see the words tattooed under the crease of her left inner elbow. The three rows of words that have been a mystery to me since she got it when she was 21 years old.

  I remember the day I saw it for the first time. I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell could be going on in this gorgeous girl’s brain to make her decide that those were words she wanted on her body forever.

  I was shocked to my core that she would make such a permanent decision and keep it from Abel and me. We were so close back then, she told us everything…

  I allow myself to get lost in the memory.

  I’ve been watching the clock all day, waiting for six o’clock to roll around so that I can go see my Breezie. Okay, she’s not mine, not yet at least.

  But today is the day that I plan to change that.

  I’ve stayed away from her as long as I can. I can’t bring myself to do it for a moment longer. I don’t care what Abel thinks, I don’t care if I screw everything up in the long run. I don’t care if it changes our future plans for the shop that the guys and I are setting out to start.

  We’re moving to LA in a few weeks and I can’t leave here without her. I invited her to have dinner with me, prepared to beg if I have to.

  She’s been distancing herself more and more from us since we told her we were moving. Abel tried to convince her to come with us, but she refuses. She said we all need to learn to live without each other, that it’s time to cut the cord.

  When those words left her lips, they tangled around my heart and squeezed with a force so powerful, it damn near brought me to my knees. Living a life without Bree isn’t something that I’ve ever considered, and I can’t stomach actually doing it.

  The truth is, I’m scared to death to actually do this. Scared to admit what I feel, what I’ve always felt for her. But her staying behind in Deacon Hill seems to be a fate worse than death. All of the reasons that I’ve held back aren’t as strong as my fear of losing her.

  And that’s crazy for me to admit, even to myself, because my fears have ruled my emotions where she’s concerned since the moment I held her hand in mine when we were just kids.

  I was raised by a single mom who busted her ass to provide everything for us. We never struggled, and we tried to help out Bree and Abel as much as we could. But keeping up with school clothes and supplies for three kids was just too hard on my mom after a while.

  If she knew just how badly they were really struggling, she would have found some way to help them more, I know that. But Abel kept his secrets for a long time, even from me. By the time I found out the truth, we were already teenagers and Abel was working three jobs, assuring me all would be okay. In the end, he was right, but it didn’t stop the guilt that my mom and I felt when we found out.

  Being raised by a single mom showed me a lot of things, but the main thing it showed me is just how many men bailed when the going got tough. My mom’s family doesn’t really produce the male gene. I know according to science, it’s the male’s genetics that determines if the baby will be a boy or a girl, but my mom’s family is the exception to that rule. They only produce girls. I was the first male born in my mom’s family in the last 80 years.

  Did you catch that? I was the first born male in 80 years, to a family of perpetual single moms. None of their spouses stayed to help raise their kids. Not a single fucking one.

  Genetically, I’m fucked. I know that. I’m destined to be a deadbeat. And I refuse to be just another number in the long list of men that have damaged our family.

  So I’ve chosen to be an eternal bachelor. I decided that shit when I was 14 years old and had no business thinkin’ those kinds of thoughts. But when you grow up and watch all of your aunts and cousins go through the same hell that your mom went through, and every woman before her… You tend to get shell shocked pretty fuckin’ early on.
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br />   I’ve lived my life for the last 24 years, giving myself permission to love from afar, but never up close. A silent promise to myself, and all the women in my family, to never put myself in a position where I could hurt someone the way they’ve all been hurt. And it would have worked.

  If not for her.

  Breelle Cooper.

  My Breezie.

  I’ve told myself many times to walk away from her. I’ve tried to pretend, to convince myself, to see her exactly like Brody and Ryan do. As just my best friend’s little sister. But she’s always been so much more than that.

  She’s the thorn in my side, threatening to slice through my perfectly crafted life plan to avoid heartache. She’s the only woman outside of my family that I give a damn about. And yeah, I may be a pussy for it… But I love her like you wouldn’t believe.

  This girl is my fucking everything.

  But I’ve never told a soul.

  I’m known to only fuck around with a certain ‘type’ of girl. And you know what that ‘type’ is? The exact opposite of the only one I actually want. It’s the subliminal mind fuck I’ve put out in the universe, hoping that no one ever sees the invisible thread tethering my heart to hers. And even though it’s kept me away from her, kept me from shattering her like I’ve always feared…

  It’s shattered me in the process.

  I angry fucked the hell out of every girl that I’ve ever touched. Pissed off that their hair isn’t right. That their eyes aren’t right. That I have to pretend to want them when they’re the furthest thing from what I crave.

  My dick doesn’t care what they look like. But my heart? My soul?

  They fucking care.

  And here I am, willing to break every single rule in my own book for this girl.

  After almost a decade of fighting myself like a junkie fighting his addiction, I’m about to give in to the one thing that could destroy us both. But if there was ever a woman worth risking it for…

  It’s Breezie.

  As soon as the clock strikes 6, I clock out and jump over the counter, running to my truck without so much as a backward glance. I have so much adrenaline coursing through my body that I’m literally shaking. I struggle to get the key in the ignition, fumbling around the steering column more than I did when I was 16, borrowing my mom’s car for the first time.