"No, Oz. You can't do that. It's all okay." She blinks and wipes my face again, runs her thumb across my lips. "Accidents happen, and we're okay."
"Yeah, we're okay." I breathe hard, shove it down, stop it, blink hard and blink hard and blink hard, squeeze my eyes shut, swallow the lump, breathe deep and steady myself. "I was just so scared I'd gotten you killed. They took you, and I didn't know what happened to you."
"I've got two broken ribs, and a couple more are bruised. Some cuts and scratches. A few stitches on my left leg. I'll be fine in a few weeks." She looks me over, and worry fills her eyes. "That chair--you're not--you're not...Oz...please tell me you're not--" She can't even say it.
I shake my head and move both of my legs for her, wiggle my toes. "No, no. I'm fine. I'm just...it hurts, and I had some drugs for the pain, which is making me a little lightheaded. I'm fine."
Marie comes in right then. "You both need to rest."
"One more minute," I say, and Marie nods, closes the door. I lean in, kiss Kylie on the lips. It's soft and slow and sweet, and I want to get lost in her kiss, but I can't.
She hisses and has to straighten. "Holy shit...ow. God, it hurts." She tries to shift, trying to get more comfortable. "I'm not gonna lie, Oz. It fucking hurts so bad. Every breath, every little motion. It all hurts."
"I'm so sorry, Ky. If I could take it from you, hurt for you, I would."
She smiles at me, faint, tired, tight. "I know, Oz. I know." She takes my hand and tangles our fingers together. Her eyes meet mine, burn bright and sincere. "I love you."
That sound, her voice speaking those words to me, it erases everything else. I lean in, rest my cheek gently against her arm. "I love you, too, Kylie. So much."
We're silent, just sitting together. Eventually, Marie, Colt, and Mom come in, and I'm taken to my room and I fall asleep, dream of the accident, and of the glorious heaven that came before, her whispered I love you and her skin in the moonlight and then the Corvette is there, phone-lit face, too close, crashing impossibly through the darkness where we clung together on my bike, everything blurring, merging, nothing right, nothing the same.
I wake up sweating, and pain is a wracking spear in my gut. My arm aches, and I realize I don't even know if it's broken.
The next day, we both go home.
*
We both miss some school. Weeks pass slowly, during which we both heal, moving around stiffly. My arm is broken, and it'll be a long while before the cast comes off. Other than that, I'm fine. My ribs are bruised, but they heal quickly, and the various cuts and deep scrapes on my legs, and the stitches on my head heal as well. Kylie and I just hang out, doing nothing much. Watch TV, do homework together. Anything kinky is off-limits for Kylie until her ribs heal. For the first week, she can't move, can barely breathe.
I never got the chance to take up Colt on his offer to check out his friend's garage, which sucks. That would've been a good job. But I'm not in any shape to work on cars yet. It takes nearly a month, and we're both back to almost normal. My arm is still in a sling, but the cast will come off soon. I'm sitting with Kylie on her front porch, watching a show on Netflix on her laptop, watching night fall around us. We're holding hands, the laptop on both of our laps as we rock gently on the two-person rocking chair. It's become our favorite spot lately, since there's not much else for us to do but sit around.
My gut clenches when I see a black Silverado pull into the driveway across the street. Kylie tenses, too. She hasn't mentioned Ben in a long time, but I have a feeling there was some kind of discussion between them after the accident.
He sees us, and I move the laptop over to Kylie, stand up. Ben is coming this way, hands fisted at his sides.
"Oz." His voice is calm, but sharp.
"Ben." I extend my hand to him, hoping this can be a civil conversation.
I hear the laptop close behind me, and then the chair squeak as she stands up. Her footsteps shuffle. She still has a hard time moving around, her ribs still causing her some pain. Ben's eyes narrow and go hard as he watches her move to stand beside me.
No one speaks for a long time, but Ben's eyes betray a roiling maelstrom of emotion.
"Got something to say, Ben?" I ask. "Then say it."
"Yeah, in fact. I do have something to say." He seems to swell, anger puffing him up. "You almost got her killed, Hyde. You and your stupid motorcycle. She can still barely walk. What's going to be next? It'll be something else. I know it. You're a fucking hazard, Hyde. I knew from day one that you'd get her hurt. And you did."
"I'm fine, Ben--" Kylie starts.
Ben talks right over her, ignores her. "You know those ribs almost punctured her lungs? It was a matter of fucking centimeters, dude. It could've been her heart. Killed her in seconds. And it would have been your fault. Because you just have to try to be so goddamn cool, on your stupid fucking motorcycle."
"You're being an asshole, Ben. It was an accident. It wasn't his fault." Kylie pushes between us, stares him down. "Go home."
"No, Ky. Yeah, it may have been an accident, but that's just the start of it. What's gonna happen with you two? You're gonna go off and, what? Do your little music thing? Play at being musicians? You're gonna drag her around with you on the back of your bike, and eventually you're gonna get her killed."
"Stop it, Ben! You're being ridiculous. It was an accident. And what we do is none of your business." She frowns up at him, shakes her head. "What's happening to you, Ben? Who are you? And what's this really about?"
Ben spins away, turns back, raking his hand over his head. "What's this about?" He jabs a finger in my direction, and I force myself not to react. "It's about this fucking asshole. He's all wrong for you, Kylie. He always was, and he always will be. He's nobody, from nowhere. He'll never be good enough for you! And you're just so fucking blind that you can't see how wrong he is!"
"That's my choice, Ben!" Her voice is raised in a shout, and she pushes at him. The effort is too much, and she stumbles forward, hands on her knees, groaning, sucking in air.
"Fuck off, Ben. You're upsetting her." I step in front of him, blocking his access to her.
"Get out of my way, Oz. You don't fucking deserve her, and you know it." His voice is hard as iron, hard as steel, sharp as razors.
"Yeah, you know what? You're right. I don't." I step closer. "I never have and I never will. But guess what? She chose me, pal. Not you. You had your chance. You blew it. And now you're jealous. I get it. She's incredible, and I'd be jealous, too. But don't cause problems where there don't need to be any." I make sure he has nowhere to go but through me.
"Get out of my way, Oz." He pushes toward her, tries to go around me, toward Kylie, who is holding a hand to her ribs, gasping for breath, eyes wet, fearful, and she's trying to reach for us.
I stay between him and her. "No. Go home. She asked you to go home. So just fucking go. Leave us alone." I step closer, so I'm nearly touching him.
"Get out of my face."
"Oz...Ben...please...don't--" Kylie gasps.
"I said...get out. Of. My. Face." Ben bites each word, fists clenched, chest swelling, eyes going manic.
I shrug my arm out of the sling. Ignore the pain. "Walk away, Ben." I swallow my pride and try it nicely. "Please. Just go."
"Or what?" He smirks at me. "Gonna sucker-punch me again?"
I growl. "You started that, Ben. Just like you're starting this."
"And I'm finishing it." He shoves me. "Fuck. Off. Get out of here. You don't belong here."
I stumble backward, and habit takes over. Instinct. Fight reflexes kick in. I rocket forward, swinging my good fist. I connect, hard. Ben's head rocks back, and I hear Kylie screaming, pleading for us to stop. It's too late, though. Ben is coming for me. I dodge out of the way, and his fist misses. I pivot, step away, and he follows, swinging again. His face is a rictus of rage, and his fist is huge, coming hard and fast, and it hits me square in the nose, knocks me backward. Pain explodes in my face, blood splatters, and
he's still coming, and Kylie is stumbling for me, crying, pleading. I see the terror in her eyes, and I step backward, hold up my hands.
"Ben, hold on--" I don't want to fight him, don't want this pain in her eyes.
But it's too late. Too late. I see him coming, and I try to move, try to block, but I can't. He's too fast, and I'm off-balance. My foot hits the curb, and I stumble backward, out into the street. Headlights bathe me in yellow, a horn blares in my ear. I'm on one foot, on the ball of my foot, spinning, windmilling for balance, but I know this is happening. I see the grille, a Land Rover. I see the emblem, the green and silver, and then I feel my leg shatter, feel the hood sliding under my side and my back, and then my skull impacts the glass of the windshield, and I only have a split second to feel the all-consuming pain, and then darkness rises up within me like a flood. I hear screaming, voices. I'm almost under, fighting to stay above the black cold waters of silence, and I see Kylie, her face above me, tears streaming, her lips move.
Ben is behind her, and why is he crying? He's not hurt, but he's bawling, shaking his head, backing away. I blink, blink, but the darkness won't clear from my eyes, and I focus again on Kylie.
I love you. I love you. Am I saying it? I don't even know. I'm trying. Are the words coming out? Does she know? Can she hear?
Darkness. Cold. Weightlessness. Is that a light coming for me? Is that what they mean when they talk about the light at the end of the tunnel? I don't want it. Stay away from the light.
I cling to the image of Kylie's face. Picture her pale skin lit silver by the moonlight, her eyes the blue of the Caribbean, her lips moving as she tells me she loves me, the impossible beauty of her face and the impossible beauty of the fact that she loves me.
I struggle to hold on to her, onto the warmth, onto reality, onto life.
"Don't go...please, Oz...stay with me...stay with me..." Her voice is broken, so sweet, and I want to reassure her.
"...love...you..." I think that's my voice, but is it really out loud? Is that tattered shred of sound my voice?
I can't fight the blackness anymore. Cold implacable hands drag me under.
"No!" Kylie, pleading. "NO!"
I'm falling under.
Silence.
TWELVE: Fallout
Colt
Oh, fuck no. I watched it happen, and I watch his chest struggle up and down, and Kylie is screaming and Nell is pulling at her and I'm silent. I see Jason and Becca, our neighbors. The driver of the Land Rover, puking into the grass. Ben, sobbing like a baby, I didn't mean it, didn't mean to, I'm sorry tumbling from his mouth. Jason is holding him by the shoulders. Becca is on the phone with 911. They said not to move him, help is on the way.
I kneel beside Kylie, watching Oz as his breathing goes shallow and reedy, and I watch the blood seeping from beneath his skull.
Without warning, Kylie is lunging across the street, screaming viciously now, not in pain but in hate, in rage. I catch her just before she reaches Ben, catch her swinging arms, clenched trembling fists before they hit him.
"YOU KILLED HIM!" she's shrieking, "You fucking killed him, you bastard! I hate you IhateyouIhateyou!"
Ben lurches to his feet, throwing his father off. "I didn't mean to..." He stumbles toward her, eyes red, grief and guilt ravaging his features. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't--"
"I told you months ago I'd chosen him, but you couldn't accept it!" She's struggling in my arms, but I can't let go, won't let go. "I chose him! I love him! You were my best friend, Ben." She's abruptly limp. "You were my best friend. How could you do this to me? How could do it to me?" And now she's limp.
I lift her in my arms. "He's not dead, baby. He's not dead. He'll be okay. He's just unconscious. Stay with me, sweetheart." I'm murmuring in her ear. "Stay with me, baby. Look at Oz, okay? See his chest moving? He's alive, okay? There's the ambulance--they'll fix him. They'll fix him."
She struggles out of my arms, to her feet, watching everything with sudden manic energy, pacing, as the EMS guys do their grisly work, blue-gloved hands turning red, their voices calm but urgent.
"Will he--will he live?" she asks, her voice cutting through the noise.
One of them looks at her. His eyes are reassuring, calm. "We got here in time, I think. He's got a good chance."
A good chance. It's not much, but it's something. Better than dead.
Kylie follows them as they lift him inside the ambulance, and no one dares stop her as she climbs in and sits to one side, trying to touch his hand while staying out of their way. The doors close and the sirens go on and the ambulance wails away. Nell has the truck running, and we're following close behind.
The next several hours pass in a sludge-slow blur. He's in surgery for nine hours, and Kylie eventually falls into a fitful sleep in the waiting room, stretched across two chairs with her head on Nell's lap. We sit in silence, watching the news on mute, Brian Williams' face moving without sound, images flashing, meaningless nonsense that doesn't penetrate anyone's awareness.
Kate Hyde is in the room as well, sitting across from us, eyes red-rimmed, a Kleenex clutched in her fist. She stares listlessly.
Sometime in the small hours of dawn, a green-gowned surgeon approaches, a face-mask tugged down past his chin, a green cap on his head, rubbing hand-sanitizer on his hands. He glances around the room, pale, pale blue eyes searching. He's a middle-aged man, a little older than I am, I think, thick-shouldered and fit.
Kylie senses something, wakes up, sees the surgeon. Lurches to her feet. "Is he okay?"
"He's a fighter," the surgeon says. "He suffered an extreme trauma to his head, but he stayed with us."
"Will he--will he be okay?" Kate asks. "When he wakes up?"
The surgeon bobbles his head from side to side. "There's never any way to tell one hundred percent until he wakes up. I think he has an excellent chance of making a full recovery with no lasting side effects, but I can't make any promises just yet. We've done everything we can do for now." He sighs. "He'll have a long road ahead of him when he wakes up. The head trauma was the biggest worry, but he has other equally significant injuries. He broke his femur in three places, and re-fractured his arm. Those will take time to heal, of course, but it's the head injury that we have to keep the closest eye on right now."
"When can we see him?" Kylie wants to know.
"He's unconscious at the moment. It's not a coma, though, just natural post-op sleep. You can probably see him in a few hours. Sometime later today, I'd say. Ya'll have been here for a long time, so why don't you head home and catch some sleep?"
Kylie shook her head. "No...no. I need to see him. Can't I just--just see him?"
The surgeon shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I really feel it's in his best interests to remain undisturbed for the time being." His expression softens. "You won't do him any good if you're in a state of exhaustion. You need to rest. I can tell you from experience, the sleep you get in a waiting room in a hospital is no kind of rest at all. Go home. Sleep. Come back this evening, and you'll be able to see him, hopefully speak to him."
I wrap my arm around Kylie's shoulders. "Come on, Ky. He's right. We're all exhausted. We know he's okay now. He'll be okay. Let's get you home? Just for a few hours."
Kylie nods, and then slips out of my hold, reaches for Kate. "He's all right, Kate. He'll be fine." Kylie and Kate embrace, and I can see Kate visibly shuddering and trying to hold it together.
"He really loves you, you know. I wasn't sure he'd ever find that." Kate pulls away, holds Kylie by the shoulders. "I'm so glad he did. You've really brought him to life, Kylie, and I can't ever thank you enough for that."
"He's amazing," Kylie says.
"Yeah, he is. No thanks to me." Kate squeezes her eyes shut and turns away.
"Hey, hey." Kylie shakes Kate's arm. "No. You've always been there for him. You gave him...so much. Everything. And he knows it. He's told me as much."
"He--he did?"
Kylie nods. "He loves you, Kate. For real
. Don't ever doubt that."
Kate smiles. "Thanks, Kylie." She shakes her head, wipes her eyes. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm just so emotional. Go home, get some rest. We'll all come back later and see him." She gives Kylie one last hug, and then she's gone.
As Kate shuffles down the hallway toward the elevators, Jason and Becca return from the cafeteria, Styrofoam cups of coffee in hand, Ben trailing behind them, looking subdued and miserable. Becca halts in the doorway, staring after Kate.
"Who--who was that?" Becca asks. It wasn't quite a stutter, more of a stumble, but it spoke volumes about how unnerved Becca is. She turns to Kylie. "Who was that?"
"That?" Kylie is visibly confused. "That was Oz's mom. Why?"
Becca doesn't answer right away. "Nothing. She just...she looked familiar. Must have been my imagination." She shakes her head, dismissing the thought. "I just thought for a second--oh, never mind. How is Oz?"
"Oz is out of surgery. He's asleep now, but they said he should be fine." Kylie hiccups, and her effort to sound strong crumbles. "He broke his leg and re-broke his arm. And his head--he...they say he shouldn't have any--any lasting damage. But they won't know till he wakes up."
Becca gathers Kylie to her. "He'll be okay, honey. You'll see."
Kylie nods, and pulls away. "Yeah, I know. He's tough."
We all head home, and Kylie is asleep on her feet by the time we get inside. I follow her upstairs, tuck her in to her bed the way I used to, when she was a little girl.
"Daddy?" Her voice is tiny, sleep-slow.
"Yeah, babe."
"I'm so mad at Ben. I'm so mad it scares me." She sniffles. "Don't let him--if he comes here looking for me, don't let him in. I can't see him. Not yet. Maybe not ever."
I sigh. "Oh, honey. It was an accident. A stupid accident that should never have happened. It wasn't his fault, honey. He didn't mean for it to happen."
"He was picking a fight!" Kylie is furious, but too tired to really express it. "Oz had a broken arm, and he was trying to be rational about it. But Ben was just...just spoiling for a fight. I told him I was with Oz. I told him, Daddy. Months ago. But he couldn't accept it."
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