“About eight o’clock.” She brings over a plastic cup filled with water and offers me a sip through the straw. “You’ve been in and out of sleep for a few days.”
“What?” I frown. “What day is it?”
I squint and try to rustle up what memories I have. They are all blurry and filled with fog.
“Tuesday.” Mom’s face washes with concern, and the dark circles under her eyes tell me what a tough weekend she’s had.
“When did I get here?”
My mom blinks a few times. “Friday. You were in pretty bad shape. You’ve been on antibiotics and pain killers . . . and then you were in surgery most of yesterday.”
There are new lines around Mom’s bloodshot eyes, and her skin has the pale pallor of someone who hasn’t slept. She must have been with me the whole time. She gives me a brave smile and is about to say something when the door clicks open and my dad strolls in with two cups of coffee.
He is looking gaunt and restless, but his face lights up like a Christmas tree when he sees me looking at him. “Hey.”
Handing Mom her coffee, he gives her a quick peck on the cheek, then walks around the bed so he can take a seat beside me.
Looking from one parent to the other, I take in their warm expressions and haggard relief and it occurs to me that they love me. I mean they really love me.
Dad drinks me in as if it’s the first time he’s seen me in months. “So, how are you feeling?”
It takes me a minute, but I run an assessing eye over my body, wincing at my splinted leg and the heavy cast holding my elbow in place. The painkillers are managing to stave off the brunt of my discomfort, but I can feel it lurking in the background.
Jody warned me this would be a long, slow road.
I sigh. “I look like one half of Frankenstein and I feel like my hair hasn’t been washed in a year, so, I think we can tick the ‘not so great’ box.”
Dad’s chuckle is deep and rich. He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “After a sentence like that, I think we can tick the ‘she’s gonna make it’ box.” He blinks and looks away, then gives a loud sniff and turns back to me. “It’s been a long week. It’s nice to hear you speaking coherently.”
I run my hand over my eyes and up into my hair. I gingerly touch the egg on my head and wince. It’s still pretty tender.
“So, do you remember anything?” Mom starts fussing over me, pulling up the white blanket covering my good leg.
I frown, attempting to order my scrambled brain. “Bits and pieces. It’s hard to know what’s real or if I just dreamed it.”
“The most important thing is that you’re alive. It doesn’t matter what happened.” Mom smiles despite her eyes glassing over with tears. “All that matters is that you’re safe now.”
“But it does matter,” I say.
Mom and Dad exchange confused looks.
“It matters,” I repeat as my heart swells inside my chest. I swallow and look hard at them both. “We can’t just keep ignoring . . . everything. That’s how I got into this mess.”
“What are you saying?” Mom asks.
I take in a labored breath. “We can’t ignore the fact that Jody’s death tore our family apart.” I point to Dad. “You went into a cave.” My gaze cuts to Mom. “And you hid yourself behind this plastic veneer so no one would ever see your tears.” They both look uncomfortable, but I push on anyway. “I dove into this world where people could hurt me, because that was less painful than dealing with losing Jo.”
Tears trickle silently down Mom’s cheeks.
“We all ran away from each other when we should have been banding together. I don’t . . .” I clear my throat, my eyes burning. “I don’t want to come home if things stay the same.”
“They won’t.” Mom looks panicked and she rises from the chair, her tears evaporating as fear takes charge.
I look between my parents—Mom’s panic, Dad’s anguished expression. His normally sharp, clean-shaven features are covered with stubble.
“And, Dad, that damn tree has to go. It taunts me every time I look out the living room window. We should have hacked that thing down years ago.”
Mom lets out a tear-filled laugh and drops her forehead onto my shoulder. Dad looks serious for a moment, and then grabs his jacket and pulls out his phone. He won’t look at me as he dials a number and begins to pace. A faint ring echoes through the earpiece.
“Yeah, hi, Marty. How’s it going? I need you to swing past our place and get rid of a tree for me . . . I know you’re busy, but I need it down by tomorrow . . . No, I don’t care how much it costs. Thanks.”
Ending the call, he spins and looks me straight in the eye. “I’ve let you down. I wasn’t the father that you needed me to be.” His voice is thick as he glances at Mom, both of them undoubtedly thinking of all they found in my bedroom. Resting his hand against my shoulder, Dad bends down so we’re eye to eye. “But that ends now. Your mother and I have had a lot of time to talk these past few days, and you’re right. Jody’s death tore us apart. But your near death . . . that brought us back together. It’s a new start, Nicky.”
My breath catches in my throat. “You promise?”
Dad takes Mom’s hand and then mine, forming a circle of three. “We promise.”
I want to tell them I spoke to Jody. I want them to know what I’ve been through, but I can’t. Maybe one day, but for now my ghostly experience is something for just me and Dale.
Dale.
I reach for my dog tags, but they’re gone. My good hand taps my flimsy hospital gown in a desperate search. “Where’s Dale?”
Dad lets go of Mom’s hand, a bemused smile on his lips as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the Granite dog tags. They swing in the air above me.
“He give you these?”
I let out a sigh and reach for them. “Yes.”
Running my thumb over the metal, I picture Dale sitting in a jail cell and tears swamp my eyes before I can stop them. I battle the urge to fall apart.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Mom rubs my shoulder.
“Is he okay?” I look up, searching their faces for the truth. “What’s happened to him?”
Mom and Dad shoot each other bewildered looks, then peer down at me like I’m slightly deranged.
“Nothing.” Mom shakes her head. “He’s the town hero at the moment. I told you this the other night, but you might not remember.” She squeezes my right arm with a broad smile. “He and Adam Hutton found you.”
“It’s a miracle, really,” Dad says. “They were doing some research for a biology assignment—looking for some sample in the national park—and Adam spotted a twisted guardrail. They decided to check it out and stumbled across your body. Isn’t that amazing?”
And totally unbelievable.
“Amazing,” I parrot.
Dad swallows hard. “The police think you were hit by a car, but they have no way of finding out who the driver was. Sheriff Hutton said he would do a search for damaged cars in the area, but he didn’t think the chances were very high.” I can tell that this information pains him—he wants someone to be held accountable.
I glance around the hospital room, then stare at my banged-up leg and arm.
My smile is tight, but real. “The important thing is I’m alive and safe. I don’t care who hit me . . . and neither should you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
TUESDAY, 4:27 PM
I spend the rest of the day wondering about Dale’s car ride to the station. Sheriff Hutton must have changed his mind if Dale walked free, but I thought he’d be frying his backside and serving him up for dinner. We had been trespassing on the Hutton’s property—there was no denying that. And what easier way to cover Adam’s crimes than to lock away the main witness?
I fidget with my hospital wristband and shift in my bed, careful
not to move my splinted knee. My mom told me that Dale’s been coming to visit every chance he has; his parents even had to drag him away a few times. She figured he’d be coming back after school let out for the day. Checking the clock on the wall for the millionth time, I will Dale to walk through the door and explain everything.
Mom and Dad left me alone to sleep for a little while, but my mind won’t comply. I don’t care that I’m exhausted. I need answers.
I glance at the clock. It’s nearly four thirty.
“Damn it, Dale. Hurry up!”
The door clicks open and I flinch at the unexpected sound. I glance up with a smile, but it fades when I see a shamefaced Adam shuffle in. I think I spot someone else waiting in the corridor, but the door closes before I can confirm it.
“Hey, Nicole.” Adam fidgets with the zipper on his jacket while he waits at the end of the bed.
“Where’s Dale? Is he safe? What happened to him?” My questions are sharp, quick bullets firing into his chest.
“He’s fine. Dad didn’t charge him with anything,” Adam says. “In fact, we snuck in the back of the station and Dad pretended that Dale had been there the whole time.” Adam pulls his zipper up, then back down—zip zip.
“What about the stol—borrowed car?”
Adam shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. “As soon as Dale was released he insisted Dad drive him back, so he could return it. He even stopped and filled it up with gas.”
How Dale is that? I grin, but the smile quickly fades as I picture him having to put up with all of Sheriff Hutton’s bullshit.
I run my fingers over my cast with a frown. “Why did your dad change his mind?”
Adam can’t look at me. His face washes with pink shame as he stares down at the hospital floor. “Dale promised not to say anything . . . about me or the car.”
“And your dad just let him go?”
“I think Dad’s going to be watching him pretty carefully,” Adam mumbles.
I roll my eyes. “He’s afraid . . . and he should be.” The last few words snap out of my mouth. Adam takes in my fiery glare, then shifts his weight.
My eyes narrow. “Why are you here, Adam?”
He looks to the door, then back at me with a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry . . . for what I did.”
“You mean being a coward?”
He winces. “You don’t know my dad. His expectations are . . .”
“I know enough.” I spit out the words, but then pity needles its way into my system. “I get why you didn’t say anything, Adam, but I don’t get why you’re letting him control you like this.”
I stare at him and our eyes connect for a long torturous beat.
“You nearly killed yourself because of him.”
His shoulders sag further.
I continue before he can try to justify it. “If Dale hadn’t been there . . . or if you’d shown up with your dad like he wanted you to . . . you would have buried my body and turned yourself into a murderer.”
His eyes crease in confusion. “How do you know that?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “Just do me a favor and tell your dad where to stick it. This is your life and you don’t want to get to the end of it and realize you’ve actually lived his.” I hope my expression is sincere. “I mean it. I won’t say anything about what happened, that’s your decision . . . but please use this nightmare for good. I’m not going through all this shit so everything around me can just go back to the way it was. Change has to happen, and not just for me.” I raise my eyebrows. “And if I ever see you pointing a gun at me, yourself, or anyone again, I’m gonna kick your ass to Jupiter.”
The smile on his lips grows a mile wide. “You know when you say stuff like that you sound like her.”
“Who?”
“The old Nicky.”
I smile back, a blush warming my cheeks. “Get out of my room. And send Dale in, will ya?”
Adam nods and pulls open the door, but Dale is nowhere to be seen. Instead, the corridor is crowded with a bunch of familiar faces. My “friends” bustle into the room with plastic smiles and false well-wishes.
Crowding around my bed, they’re the last people I want to see, but I’m surrounded. Caged.
Trent leans down and kisses my cheek. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs.
I frown at him, while Lauren gives me a winning smile and squeezes my hand.
I yank it out of her grasp.
On the other side of the bed, Amber and Penny are elbowing Matty and Drue to get closer to me.
I scan their faces—so familiar and yet so unwelcome. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Your mom finally said it was okay to visit.” Penny smiles sweetly.
“We’ve been asking since they found you and she’s kept refusing us.” Amber makes a face, and her gaze lands on my cast. “Oh, can I sign it?”
She opens her purse and starts hunting for a pen.
“No.” I cover the cast with my good arm.
Her head pops up and she looks at me as if I’ve just slapped her. “What’s your problem?”
I scoff. “Seriously?”
Lauren reaches for my hand again. “We’ve been so worried about you.”
I pull my hand away and give her a cold glare. “You don’t say.” Her face goes hard with a pouty scowl. “And the bitch is back,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?” Lauren tosses a horrified look at Amber and then to Trent.
They both squirm, offering her no backup.
Penny bounces on her toes, smiling brightly in a desperate bid to eradicate the tension. “Of course we were all worried. You disappeared and no one knew what had happened to you.”
“Really.” I glare up at Trent. “So, no one knew how I ended up walking home late at night in the middle of nowhere?”
An awkward silence descends among the crew.
“Look, we know you’ve had a really tough week,” Lauren says, “but there’s no need to be bitchy. I mean, it’s been hard for us, too.”
“Yeah,” Amber says uselessly.
“Hard for you?” My sarcasm drips off every syllable, like melted caramel on a sundae—thick and delicious. “It’s been hard to text and tweet and come up with a bunch of disgusting theories on what happened to me? Yeah, I can imagine that was really hard.”
Drue shakes his head. “Who told you that crap? We didn’t do that.”
What a moron. I roll my eyes. “Dale told me you started a poll, most people thought I’d run away.”
An awkward silence drops into the room. The group glances at one another or up at the medical equipment . . . anywhere but my face.
“Listen, you’ve been under a lot of stress.” Penny’s sticky-sweet voice makes my skin crawl. “You obviously need some time to pull yourself together.”
“You know what, Penny. Tweet this.” I lift the middle finger of my right hand and aim it straight at her. She lets out a little gasp and turns beet red. “Now get out of my room.”
“Baby . . .” Trent reaches for my hand, but I whip it away from him.
“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” I say. “We ended the second you ditched me in the forest.” I glare past his arm at Lauren. “And you guys”—I point between Trent and Lauren—“no longer have to hide your little affair. Lauren, he’s all yours. Get ready to screw your brains out, because that’s all he’s interested in doing.”
Penny and Amber gasp. Lauren turns the brightest shade of red I’ve ever seen.
“What are you doing?” Trent’s voice is tight, his handsome face suddenly ugly.
I gaze at him with clear eyes, shaking my head at being blind for so long.
“I’m ridding myself of the bad things in my life.” I take a minute to make my point clear and look each of my so-called friends in the eye.
&
nbsp; They each jerk back from my cool, assessing gaze.
Drue is the last in line and he squirms. “What, did they give you psycho pills for breakfast?”
I ignore the jab with a sweet grin and turn back to Trent. “I have a promise to keep. I don’t want you to be part of my life anymore.” I glance around the room, shocked by how calm my voice is. “You guys aren’t good for me.”
Penny at least has the decency to look a little ashamed, her gaze dropping to the cast on my arm. Drue is typically nonplussed, while Matt stands beside him looking morose. Trent’s face mottles with anger.
“You know you’ve just committed social suicide,” he states.
I lift my chin. “Good. I might actually achieve something positive this year.”
Amber smacks a hand down on my bed rail and peers into my eyes. “What the hell happened to you?”
I look at her bitchy glare and reply with a smirk. “I woke up.”
Everyone in the room looks baffled by my weird answer. They’ll never understand what I saw while I was dying. They will never know the truth and they don’t deserve to.
“You can go now.” I flick my fingers toward the door.
“With pleasure.” Trent spits out the words, snatching Lauren’s hand and dragging her out of the room. He glares at me one last time before turning away, then everyone else follows him out.
I hold my chin high as they leave, but it begins to wobble the second Amber clears the doorway. I bite my lip and command it to stay still. I kept my promise to Jody. That’s a good thing. It is. Who cares if I’m now a social outcast?
Closing my eyes, I lean back against the pillows and let the tears leak out the corners of my eyes. At least Dale will be by soon to mop them up for me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THURSDAY, 5:22 PM
He didn’t come. Dale never showed up to wipe away my tears . . . not one.
I rub my cast and fume away in the backseat of Dad’s car.
“Are you okay, honey?” Dad looks at me in the rearview mirror.
“Fine.” I focus on the houses as they flash by. The sun is bright, the clear blue sky mocking my sour mood.
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