“Why didn’t you say anything?”
She shrugs and the tears start to fall. “Why didn’t you?”
I know what she means, and she’s right – her reasons for not speaking up are probably the same as mine have been.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to explain to her that she was a lifeline for me. That seeing her wake up gave me hope that maybe everything in the world wasn’t so bad after all.
I’ve never told her about my sister, but I know I need to tell her now.
I want a life with Violet, and you can’t build a life upon a mountain of secrets.
“You looked so lost,” she whispers into the darkness.
“I’ve never been as lost as I was in those hours, Violet, and for some reason, you stopped me from falling apart.”
“I don’t understand…”
“I’m not sure I do either.” I shake my head as I try to make sense of something that truly can’t be explained.
“I didn’t just happen to pass by your room, I’d been watching you for a while.”
Confusion is written all over her face, and I don’t blame her.
“I was in the ICU for....” My voice cracks, and I suck in a deep breath in an attempt to regain my composure. “For my sister.”
She squeezes my hand again and rubs her thumb gently up and down the side of mine.
The small contact and comfort she gives me is enough for me to find the strength to go on.
“Her name was Daisy, and she died… there was a car crash… she fell asleep at the wheel after a twelve-hour shift and ran herself off the road.”
Violet gasps and her hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Rylan, you never told me…”
“And then I saw you lying there and I couldn’t stay away. My sister was dead, and I was drawn to you, I needed you to wake up and be okay. I had no idea what was wrong with you, but I could feel your struggle, Violet, and the moment you woke up and looked at me… I guess I felt hope again.”
“I’ve never seen a person look the way you looked.” Her voice sounds like sandpaper.
“You were the light for me, I was surrounded by darkness and you were what helped me see through it.”
It feels like a huge weight has lifted off my shoulders. I’ve told Violet my truths, my secrets… and she’s not mad at me for keeping it from her… she’s still here and she loves me.
“I saw it in your eyes tonight – that same look.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “One of the nurses… she talked about Daisy today. It all hit me again… and then I came home to you, and you saved me, just like that first time.”
“You saved me too, Rylan…” She goes to say something further, but I see the moment she catches herself. “Seeing you there, it did the same thing for me. You gave me hope too.”
There’s more – I can tell that she’s holding something back from me, what, I have no idea, but I have a feeling that it’s vitally important and I’m suddenly desperate to know.
“I need you to talk to me, Violet, please.” I grasp her other hand in mine and tug her close. I know I’m begging, but I don’t care – this is a pivotal moment for us, I’ve never felt a sense of urgency like I do here and now.
Her expression flickers between brave and ready, to frightened and wary.
She opens her mouth to speak, finally, and I brace myself for whatever it is she’s about to tell me, but right at that moment, my cell phone rings in my pocket.
I drop my head forward in defeat, resting my forehead against hers.
It’s my emergency ringtone and I know what that means – one of my patients is in labour.
I’m needed there, but I know on a deep level that I’m needed here just as much, if not more.
“You’d better get that.”
She’s looking down at my pocket as I stand unmoving.
I’m terrified that if I let this moment slip by right now that I’ll never get it back.
She must sense my fear because she pulls her head back and looks at me, really looks at me.
“We can talk when you get back.”
“You promise?” My voice is gruff and unsure, but I know I don’t have another option.
I can’t leave my patient and we both know it.
She pushes up to her tippy toes and kisses the side of my mouth. “Answer the damn phone, Rylan; you’ll wake up all the neighbours.”
She looks different; her face is serene – peaceful, as though maybe she’s come to accept something in the same way I have.
She’s also right; if I leave this phone ringing much longer there’s going to be trouble.
I take the call and as I suspected I’m needed in the delivery ward immediately.
There’s no time for any more talking, but as I back out of the driveway I see Violet in the window. She blows me a kiss and I fall even deeper in love with her.
I know in that instant that it doesn’t matter what she tells me, I know it’s only going to make me love her more.
***
I snap my gloves into place as I use my back to push open the door of the delivery suite.
“How are we doing in here, Luce?”
“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Emmett calls from his spot next to the bed.
Lucy has his hand in a death grip and I almost laugh – almost. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that women in labour do not tend to take jokes well.
I grab her chart from the maternity nurse and flick through the notes.
“Seriously, man, you gotta give her something, she’s gone crazy.”
“She’s in labour, Emmett,” I reply calmly at the same moment that Lucy screams at him.
“I’m in freakin’ labour, you big dumb idiot!”
I hear Kristie, the nurse, try to muffle a laugh and I make the mistake of meeting her eyes.
I’m doing my best, I really am, but the look on Emmett’s face right now is priceless.
“You had better not be laughing at me, Rylan Wilder, or so help me God… urrrrggggghhhhhhhhh.” Another contraction cuts off her threat.
“We’re getting close now, Lucy.”
I glance at my watch and make note of the time.
“How about I promise no more laughing, Emmett promises no more being a big dumb idiot, and we get that baby out of there, alright?”
She looks up at me for the first time and I see that she’s all bark and no bite.
Lucy looks terrified.
“You’ve got this, I’m right here,” I reassure her.
Emmett wipes a cool flannel across her face, and I can see that despite his wife’s anger towards him, he is in fact doing a great job.
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
“You can do this, baby, I’m right here with you.” He kisses her forehead and I smile.
These two really are great together. They’re going to make incredible parents.
“I want Violet.” Lucy whimpers as another contraction builds. “Oh my God!” she cries as it hits full force. “I want Violet right now!”
Chapter Fifty-One
Violet
I race down the corridor that leads to the maternity wing of the hospital.
The baby that Rylan is delivering right now isn’t just any baby, it’s Lucy and Emmett’s baby, and even though I was never planning to be in the delivery room with her – she needs me.
The fact that it was Emmett who called me and not Rylan, makes me think that perhaps I might be too late anyway, but I still run as fast as I can.
Lucy has been there for me through more than any friend should have to over the years. She’s seen the absolute worst in me, and this might be the only chance I get to return the favour.
I approach the nurse’s station panting for breath. “I’m looking for Lucy Hale,” I say, far too loud and much too fast.
She points down the hall. “Room fourteen, Violet.”
I yell my thanks over my shoulder as I take off running again. I’m pr
etty sure that not just anybody is allowed in here, so dating the obstetrician must have its perks.
I reach the numbered door and I can’t hear anything, no screaming, no heavy breathing… nothing…
“Hello?”
I tap lightly on the door and I hear Lucy’s voice call out to me.
“Come on in, Aunt Violet.”
I slowly push open the door in wonder.
I know I’m not technically the baby’s aunt, and that one day when August stops being so self-involved and settles down, or when Charlie grows up and stops serial dating – I might get some nieces and nephews that are related by blood, but the little bundle that I can see wrapped up in my best friend’s arms – the sister I chose, will always be my family.
“Oh my God.” I breathe the words.
I don’t want to make even a sound and risk disrupting this moment of perfection.
Emmett is sitting on the side of the bed, right next to Lucy, and they’re the most beautiful little family I’ve ever seen.
“You’re only ten minutes too late.”
I don’t even have to look up to see who that voice belongs to. I would know it anywhere.
“It looks like you had it covered without me,” I reply softly, my eyes still solely focused on the tiny baby in my best friend’s arms.
“She’s beautiful, huh?” Lucy catches my eye. She looks exhausted, but I’ve never seen her happier or more content than she looks right now.
“She?”
“You bet.” Emmett nods. “My little princess.” It’s clear to see that this little girl already has her daddy securely wrapped around her finger.
“Her name is Harper Violet Hale,” Lucy tells me. “We named her after her godmother.” And with that statement I feel the tears start to fall.
***
“Did you know I was born in this hospital?”
I haven’t turned to check he’s there, but I don’t need to, I know he followed me out here.
“You were?” he replies after a moment of silence.
I’ve been here for hours, watching my best friend be a mother, and I’ve literally never seen a sight more perfect. It fills me with warmth and cuts me deep in the very same breath.
Lucy deserves every ounce of happiness that little girl will bring her, but according to fate, I won’t be afforded the same sense of joy.
I nod at him.
The silence stretches between us and I know he’s waiting for me to speak.
“You were right earlier; there is something I need to tell you,” I whisper, my voice shaky.
He moves closer to me and I take a minute to marvel at the feel of his warmth against my arm. He’s such an amazing man – the fact he just ensured that my goddaughter made it into the world safe and healthy is an absolute testament to that. Knowing how special he really is just makes me all the more afraid I might lose him.
He’s shared his most tightly kept secret with me tonight, and I owe him the same in return – it’s time he knew everything about me, the same way I know him.
It can’t have been easy for him to talk about his sister, but he did it. For me – for us.
His life reads like some type of sad story.
I might have experienced a lot, but he’s been through his own brand of heartbreak too and I think that maybe he needs me as much as I need him.
I’m scared like I’ve never been scared before. It seems to be a reoccurring theme where Rylan is concerned. Maybe this is what being in love is like. Maybe I’ll always be terrified about what will happen next.
“Tell me.”
His hand reaches for mine and I take it gladly.
We’re standing side by side, me watching Lucy, Emmett and baby Harper, and him watching me.
I don’t know where I should even begin when it comes to telling this tale, but I figure the beginning is as good of a place as any.
“They tell me I died in this hospital too.”
I hear his sharp intake of breath as the words hang in the air between us.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Rylan
“Come with me, there’s something I need to show you.”
She takes my hand and leads me towards the stairs, right up to the room where she paints.
I’m surprised by this, I wasn’t expecting to be allowed back in here again anytime soon after my last intrusion, let alone welcomed with a personal escort, but after what she told me at the hospital I should have known that all bets were off.
She pauses outside the door and looks warily back over her shoulder at me.
“It’ll be easier to explain if I show you as well as tell you.”
I nod, even though I don’t really understand where she’s going with this. It doesn’t matter, because I do know one thing – that wherever she’s going, I’m going there too.
She rests her hand on the door handle and takes a deep, steadying breath.
I can feel the fear and insecurity radiating from her, but I don’t say a word. I know she needs to work through this – whatever this is – for herself, and for us.
She eventually pushes the door open and I see why she’s shaking like a leaf.
The display she’s created is so confronting I can barely breathe.
I understand now exactly why she’s kept all this hidden. These paintings say so much without actually having to say anything at all.
I’m gasping for air as my eyes start at the beginning, tracing over one work of art before moving onto the next.
She’s so incredibly talented – the amount of emotion and passion that has gone into these is rivalled by nothing I’ve ever seen before.
“This is only a small part of my story. But it’s the part that I think you need to hear the most.”
My eyes dart around the room until I find her – standing by the very first painting in the big half circle she’s made. It’s one I’ve already seen, only a few short hours ago, but seeing it up on display makes it seem new again.
“I was twenty-one when my heart went into cardiac arrest less than a year before I had my transplant; they had to revive me twice. I was technically dead for a while there.”
I look at the painting she’s standing next to and I feel fear. Deep, irrational fear – I know I don’t need to be afraid, because she’s right here and she’s okay… she’s alive, but I can’t look away and I can’t seem to slow my heart rate.
“When I came back, I painted all of these.”
She’s never told me this part of her story and that scares me – I can’t think of a reason she would have decided to keep it a secret.
I’m instantly filled with worry that maybe everything isn’t as it seems – that perhaps there’s still something threatening her life.
I love her – I love her more than I ever thought I could love another person, and the thought of a world where she doesn’t exist just about brings me to my knees.
“Have you ever heard people say that their lives flashed before their eyes when they came close to death?” She’s talking about something so life altering, yet her voice is serene, she looks like she’s at peace.
I nod in acknowledgement – right now I can’t speak.
“I saw it, Rylan, I saw my whole life. I saw my parents, my brother and sister, Lucy… they were all there.”
She walks slowly past each painting as she speaks, and I feel like I’m right there on the verge of death with her. I feel like I’ve stepped into the so-called light and now my life is flashing before my eyes – because her life is my life now too. I’m not doing it without her.
My eyes follow her every movement, only leaving her face to look at each piece of art.
“But this was different than what they tell you in books or in the movies… I didn’t see the life I’d already lived; I saw the life I should have had – the life that was mine if I survived...”
I don’t understand what she means by that. I always assumed that before you died, if in fact your life did flash before your eyes, that y
ou saw everything that had meant the most to you in the time you’d had.
“I guess it wasn’t my time yet.” She smiles, and I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. “Maybe one day, when it is my time, perhaps I’ll see the past then…”
I don’t even want to imagine the end of her life – I know it’s been a very real possibility for her over the years, but I just can’t allow my brain to go there.
“I think it was the only way to get me to come back, you know? To show me everything I should have had…”
“What did you see?” The words are out of my mouth without conscious thought, but I’m glad I said them. She’s nearing the end of the paintings now, and there’s only one left, but there’s still so much left to tell – I can sense it.
The final piece is huge – it’s covered with a sheet and I have a feeling that everything she’s been keeping from me will be revealed once she lifts it.
I can already see so much of what she was looking at in those moments, the images, colours and scenes on the canvases in front of me are expressive and gut wrenching – but they’re not why she brought me up here, I’m sure of it.
It’s the painting under the sheet that I’m really here for.
She looks at me, her eyes pleading, for what, I’m not sure…
Understanding perhaps… forgiveness?
She tugs on the sheet and it reveals the painting behind it with a whoosh.
At first I don’t understand. It’s a set of eyes, deep blue eyes, and in the reflection of those eyes are daisies – fields of them, just like I saw earlier in her other paintings.
“You want to know what I saw, Rylan?”
I’m staring at the painting and I still don’t understand what I’m looking at, but I think my brain is getting close to figuring it out.
“I saw you.”
It’s not until the word falls from her lips that I make the connection.
Those are my eyes.
My eyes are on a canvas that she painted four years ago – before I’d seen her for the first time, and I don’t know what that means.
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