Just Three Words

by Melissa Brayden

  Her father walked her back out to the waiting room with a hand on her back. He didn’t say anything, but his quiet strength emanated, making all the difference. A parent was here. Not the one she was used to, not the one she wanted, but a parent all the same. And there was comfort in that. Once Hunter was returned to her sister, her father headed out again, back to wherever he’d been.

  Claire shrugged and watched his departing form. “He’s just been walking laps around the hospital all night. It’s how he’s coping.”

  Hunter nodded. “He likes to control things, and he can’t do that with this. He’s scared.”

  They settled in for what would prove to be a very long night. Chip was good about playing caretaker. He refilled their coffee cups and made sure they were comfortable. As much as she’d rolled her eyes at him in the past, he really was a good guy. Hunter spent the time staring at the wall, the clock, the torn-up magazines on the coffee table, and the forlorn faces of those around them, waiting for news of their own loved ones. It was a depressing place. She fired off a text message to her friends back in New York, updating them on what she’d learned. She didn’t know how long she’d be in Ohio, but an encouraging text from Mallory put her concerns to rest. They’d take care of Savvy while she focused on her family. She’d yet to see Kevin, and as time went on, she started to wonder about his whereabouts. He shouldn’t be alone.

  She stood and ran a hand through her hair. God, her neck muscles pulled. “I’m gonna find Kev.”

  Claire adjusted her position in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. “He’s outside. Chip checked on him not too long ago. Won’t come in. They’re so alike,” she said, referencing Kevin and their father. “So stubborn.”

  Hunter nodded and headed for the door. “Thanks. I just want to make sure he’s okay.” Because for her, Kevin was still that smiley little kid who’d do anything for anyone, who was thrilled each time a new person walked in the door. And he probably needed someone about now, whether he’d admit to it or not. She found him not far from the ambulance bay of the emergency room, hunched over on a bench, slouch hat in place and ear buds implanted. His new lanky form was something she was still getting used to.

  Hunter sat next to him on the bench, prompting him to turn. He pulled one of the ear buds out and stared at her. The eyeliner was gone and left staring back at her were the big brown eyes of her little brother. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t hug him. She didn’t think he’d want that.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi.” They sat there together for a bit. Neither one, apparently, felt the need to say anything, and that was fine with her. Hunter needed Kevin to get that she was here. That was all. God, the kid must be petrified. She didn’t know how he could be so calm, so still. Cars raced past on the distant freeway. An EMT smoked a cigarette. After about ten minutes or so, he turned to her.

  “Is she going to die?” And just like that he was eight years old again, looking to his big sister for guidance. His face held such innocence, such fear. It tore at her.

  “It looks like she might,” Hunter said, feeling the need to be honest with him.

  He nodded and faced the street. Work traffic seemed to be making an appearance as the purple light of dawn faded in gradually. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole,” he said finally, taking off his hat and squeezing it. “I’ve been sitting here for hours thinking about how I could have made things easier on her, but I didn’t. So stupid and wrapped up in my lame life, and now—”

  “Hey,” she said slinging an arm around him. “First of all, Mom doesn’t think you’re an asshole. She’d be pissed we were even using the word. So don’t be an asshole and tell her.”

  The tiniest of smiles hit his face. Well, look at that, he did still have teeth. “Cool. I won’t.”

  “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, kid, but we gotta stick together through this thing. And it sucks that you’re sixteen and you hate the world, but can you push pause on that for now? Maybe put it on the to-do list for later?”

  He nodded, leaning into her arm a tad. “I just need that not to be the way she saw me last, you know? Acting like that.” There had been a lot of tears shed over the past twenty-four hours, but the ones that brimmed in her brother’s eyes now stabbed her square in the chest.

  “She knows who you are, Kevin. And so do I. Come inside and wait with us, okay? No more sitting out here beating yourself up.”

  He nodded and followed her back inside to join the rest of the family.

  Waiting. Hoping. Making crazy deals with the universe.

  And attempting to stay strong.

  *

  It’d been a week since Hunter had left for Ohio. Sam hadn’t experienced a single good night of sleep since. She went to work but spent most of the time wildly distracted and probably ineffective. She was worried about Hunter’s mom, Hunter’s family, and most importantly, Hunter herself.

  Sam hadn’t received much direct communication since Hunter had left so unexpectedly for Ohio, just a few texts here or there, checking in on Elvis and offering gratitude for Samantha looking after him. The interactions were polite and surface level, which left her feeling very much on the periphery, a difficult place to be. Most of the medical updates came through Mallory, which she had to admit stung a bit. Mrs. Blair had shown signs of improvement, but was still dependent upon the ventilator, something they were hoping to wean her off slowly over the next few days. Time would tell whether she would recover fully, but it was certainly better news than last week.

  “You done for the day?” Brooklyn asked, wheeling up to Sam’s desk in her desk chair and stopping abruptly. It was her thing lately, wheeling places. She always did have a fascination with things that moved fast.

  Samantha glanced at the clock. It was after six and she wasn’t accomplishing anything anymore. Honestly, her heart wasn’t in it. She looked up at Brooklyn regretfully. “Put a fork in me.”

  Brooklyn tilted her head to the side. “Seems cruel. Wanna have dinner at our place instead? Ashton is coming over. Then she and Jessica will inevitably play some sort of shoot-’em-up video game, and we can sneak off to the balcony and stare at things and talk.”

  It sounded nice actually. She and Brooklyn probably needed to check in with each other. The bickering that had been abruptly interrupted when Hunter received the phone call about her mother had naturally fallen by the wayside as the friends pulled together in light of the tragedy. But it hadn’t ever really been addressed, and it probably needed to be.

  “I’d love that. What can I bring?”

  “You have any of those truffles left?”

  “Mmm-hmm. A new tin just arrived today. And Mal called the bakeshop that makes them to see about maybe representing them. Putting that place on the map. We could sell the hell outta those things, Brooks.”

  “Yeah, we could.” Brooklyn stared off at the wall in response to the news, which meant she was already in creative mode.

  “Slow down, sparky.” Samantha laughed, grasping her forearm. “We haven’t signed them yet. Save the juice until the ink is dry.”

  Brooklyn pointed at her head. “Just doing some preliminary truffle warm-ups, you know how it is. Truffle wind sprints, if you will. Seven thirty tonight?”

  “Perfect.”

  Brooklyn wheeled herself over to Mallory, who was still going strong at her own desk, firing off emails and doing all the Mallory things that Sam couldn’t even begin to understand. “Dinner tonight, Mal?” Brooklyn asked.

  “Can’t. I need to pull a late night. Get my notes going for a presentation tomorrow with those brake fluid guys. I know very little about brake fluid, but that will not be the case by morning.”

  “Roger that, boss. Hey, anything from Hunter this afternoon?”

  Sam’s fingers froze on the keyboard and her heart sped up as she peeked around her computer monitor, awaiting Mallory’s answer.

  “She’s a little stressed,” Mallory began. “Between her father and her brother, the h
ouse is pretty much trashed, and they’re surviving on fast food, which they pick up on trips back and forth to the hospital. She’s not willing to leave her mom for very long, and her sister has her hands full with the twins, so there’s not a lot of time to attend to, well…life.”

  Brooklyn blew out a breath. “She’s gotta be going out of her mind. How’s her mom?”

  “It looks like there are some encouraging signs. The concern over brain damage has passed, as she’s semiconscious and will squeeze the doctor’s hand on command. But they’re keeping her somewhat sedated so her body can heal.”

  Samantha closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to the universe. And then she couldn’t hold back any longer. “How did she sound when you talked to her?”

  Mallory turned to her, soft smile on her face. “Like Hunter. Ever the trouper. You know how she is.”

  She nodded, attempting a smile of her own before staring at her keyboard as the well of feelings struck again. The sadness over what Hunter was going through, the guilt surrounding how they’d left things between them, and the sharp need to be there for Hunter through this rough time in her life. She’d pretty much been stonewalled on that front. She’d called several times, left messages, but Hunter had yet to call her back.

  “Give her time, Sam,” Mallory said.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” She blinked back the embarrassing tears and pretended to focus on packing up. No big deal at all.

  Two and half hours later, she sat on Brooklyn’s balcony staring out at the vast Hudson River. It was peaceful and calming out there. She got why Brooklyn relished it so much.

  They spent the better part of an hour sitting together as Samantha recounted the details of how things between her and Hunter had first started all the way through how they’d ended.

  “I don’t know how I missed it,” Brooklyn said, looking mystified. “I’m usually more perceptive than that.”

  “You’re very perceptive, but it’s not like you would ever imagine something like this.”

  Brooklyn held up a finger. “That’s not exactly true.”

  Sam stared at her. “Explain yourself.”

  “You guys have always had this hard-to-explain vibe, a fiery chemistry. Back in college, I kind of wondered if you two would ever…” She raised a punctuating eyebrow.

  “Seriously?”

  “It crossed my mind once or twice, yeah.”

  “Man. You were way ahead of me, that’s for sure,” Sam said, a little amazed. She turned to face Brooklyn more fully and softened her tone. “I know you were hurt that I didn’t come to you right away and honestly, if I hadn’t been so freaked out, I would have.”

  Brooklyn nodded and stared out at the water. “It’s partially my fault. I was wrapped up in my own world, and I wasn’t the most available friend. So we both carry some of the responsibility.”

  The night was fairly warm and Sam felt like she could sit out there with Brooklyn for hours. Next to her friend, she could let it all go. Be honest with herself and with Brooklyn. No matter how bad things seemed, there was comfort in that.

  “I know you’re sad,” Brooklyn said, breaking the silence. “But she’s coming back, you know.”

  Sam nodded. “But as what? Some distant roommate who comes and goes and speaks to me in overly polite exchanges? God, I don’t think I could take that, Brooks, not after everything. Not with the way I’m feeling.”

  Brooklyn’s mouth fell open. “You’re a little lovesick, aren’t you?”

  “That would be colossally stupid, which I’m trying harder this week not to be. Hunter’s not being stupid. Why should I?”

  “Because this isn’t grade school. And it’s not objectivity you’re dealing with here. Column A does not have to equal column B in matters of love. In reality, you don’t know how stupid Hunter is or isn’t being. She puts on a lot of bravado when she’s hurt. That’s what you saw at the office that day before she left. She was in self-protection mode.”

  Samantha nodded and let the comment roll around a bit. “Maybe. But she’s probably right to be. We should stop now before there’s any more of the hurting. Think about it. Her: a well-known player around town. Me: a pathetic exaggerator of all things romance. All of us: trying to run a successful business in a cutthroat city. Doesn’t that sound like a disastrous combination?”

  “Not if you’re in love. Be honest with yourself. I know firsthand what it’s like to fall for the one person in life you shouldn’t. Doesn’t mean it can’t work itself out and be the most awesome thing you’ve ever experienced. And if it’s meant to be, the world will adjust. There’s only one question: Are you in love with Hunter?”

  God, that word carried so much power. She’d thought she’d been in love with Libby. Hell, she’d been days away from saying the words to her. How silly that seemed now, in comparison. How trivial. And Brooklyn was right—it was time to be honest with herself. She took a deep breath and decided to lay it all out there. “I don’t know the exact moment it happened, and I thought you were supposed to.” She glanced at Brooklyn. “In the novels, they always know. But it’s here, Brooks. This overwhelming feeling of wanting to be around her all the time and take care of her and make out with her and go to sleep at the end of a day with her in my arms. And it’s more powerful than anything I’ve ever known. I do love her, no matter how much I fight it. So, lovesick?” She blew out a breath. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

  A smile started small on Brooklyn’s face and spread out. “I’m happy for you, Sammie. I’ll admit, it was a shock at first, and it’s still taking some getting used to, but Mallory and I have done some talking.”

  This was new information. She sat up a little straighter, her interest piqued. “You have? And what was the substance of those talks?”

  Brooklyn lifted a shoulder. “If you and Hunter are meant to be, we’ll make it work at Savvy. We don’t want you to worry about that part. Some things are more important than business, and Mallory and I both feel strongly that you and Hunter fall into that category. We want you to be happy. That comes first.”

  Samantha smiled as sheer relief washed over her in big, warm waves. “Thank you. I don’t know what else to say. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

  “And now you have, but there’s still a larger issue.” Brooklyn leaned forward, met Sam’s gaze squarely, and held on. “You’re in love, Sammie. Now what are you going to do about it?”

  Samantha blinked back. Honestly, she didn’t have a clue. “I guess now I have to figure that out.”

  *

  Scraps of paper littered the floor, glitter was strewn about every available surface, and Pitbull played from the speakers in the corner. Scrapbooking class was in rare form tonight and Sam’s group of students was, too. Something must have been in the air.

  Ms. Guaducci chair-danced as she addressed Mrs. Potter. “I’m just saying that if he wants to flirt with the cafeteria workers, well, that’s his loss. I’m on the market and plan to wheel my chair past that newcomer’s door a couple extra times on the way back to my room.”

  “How’s your page coming?” Samantha asked.

  “Better than her love life,” Mrs. Potter said, angling her head at Ms. Guaducci. Ouch.

  “That’s okay,” Mrs. Guaducci said, patting Sam’s hand. “Men are pigs, sweetie. But we love ’em anyway.”

  “That we do,” Sam said, playing along.

  “Ms. Samantha, I believe I’ve finished my book.” Mr. Earnhardt stood in front of her holding his scrapbook reverently in his hands. He beamed at her, and the warm smile melted her heart.

  “Do you mind if I take a look?” she asked.

  He handed the book over to her. “I’d be honored.” As she flipped through the pages, the rest of her class slowly joined her, gathering in a huddle of solidarity to look over their friend’s work. Samantha watched as Mr. Earnhardt’s time with his late wife passed by in a succession of photos that told the story of their life together. Stunning, complete, and full
of love. A lump formed in Sam’s throat, not just because of the poignancy of the couple’s snapshots, but because she wanted that. All of it. The life. The bond. The till-death-do-us-part. But what was shockingly clear to her now was that it wasn’t just some generic dream anymore. She knew exactly who she wanted those things with.

  “Why are you crying, dear?” Mrs. Swientek asked, and placed a hand on her back.

  “It’s nothing,” Sam said, doing her best to downplay her emotion. “There’s just been a lot going on lately, and Mr. Earnhardt’s scrapbook is just so beautiful and touching. You did such a good job on it,” she said to Mr. Earnhardt.

  “Thank you,” he said, taking back what seemed to be his new prized possession. “I bet you’ll have one just as nice when you’re our age.”

  But she wasn’t sure of that at all, and the uncertainty must have shown on her face.

  “Samantha, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Guaducci asked. Maybe it was the stress of the week, or how much she truly missed Hunter, or even the beauty of the scrapbook she’d just experienced, or maybe it was a culmination of all of those things that prompted Samantha to burst into tears.

  “Oh no,” Mr. Earnhardt said, looking nervously at the faces of his friends. The men quickly sprang into action, moving about and shouting commands, quickly trying to fix the situation.

  “Get some water!”

  “Turn the music down!”

  “Someone sit her down.”

  The women were different. They crowded around Sam and patted her shoulder, easing her into one of the glitter-covered chairs.

  “It’s okay, dear.”

  “You’re with friends.”

  “Let it out.”

  She felt ridiculous for crying and even more so for doing it in front of her class, but they took care of her, those lovable folks, and fussed over her until the tears subsided.

  “You feeling better now?” Mrs. Guaducci asked. “A good cry always makes me feel better.”