No. Please, no.
Has my worst nightmare just come true? I take a hesitant step forward, and it feels like someone punches me hard in the stomach when I recognize the seemingly lifeless body lying in an awkward, unnatural position.
Elle.
I sink down to my knees. Is she alive? Please, please, please, let her be.
I carefully turn her head towards me and take off her helmet. Her soft hair spills over my arm, revealing her pale, drawn face underneath.
I fumble in my pocket to retrieve my phone, but come away empty-handed. Then I remember: I left it in the office, so I could ride in peace, without being disturbed. How can I be so stupid?
A twist of my head reveals Mikey and his posse, who are still milling around the start line. I yell, “Call 911, call 911!”
I turn Elle’s body to the side, keeping my arm around her. With my hand, I try to feel her pulse. It’s weak, but it’s there. Thank God.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, and when I look up it’s one of the riders. “They’re coming,” he says.
I nod, gazing back down at the bruises that have now formed on Elle’s angelic face.
Please, let her be okay. She has to be okay. Because I can’t live without her.
Feeling helpless, I repeat these words in my head like a mantra. I am so absorbed in my meditative state that I don’t notice what is happening around me until I feel someone pushing me away.
The ambulance has arrived. I let out a breath while the paramedics tend to Elle, checking her vitals. When they lift her up on a gurney and carry her into the ambulance, I follow them, not wanting to let her out of my sight. I am about to step into the vehicle when a police officer taps me on the arm.
“Sir? I have some questions.”
“Can I talk to you later? I need to go and check up on her, see if she’s all right.”
He shakes his head. “No, I have to talk to you right now. It won’t take long.”
Before they close the back doors, I ask the paramedics where they are taking her, and they tell me the name of the hospital. Sighing, I watch the slamming of the ambulance’s back doors, and the flashing lights that flicker on when it drives away, accompanied by the blare of the siren.
I look around me, and Mikey, nor any of the other riders are to be seen. Scribbling in a small notebook, the police officer starts asking me questions about the accident. How did it happen? Why was I here? Did I know about the illegal drag races?
I answer his questions as quickly as I can, claiming that Elle and I were out on a ride when she slipped on the icy road, but feigning ignorance when it comes to the racing. The cop nods, and I let out a breath, grateful for once that I don’t look part of the racing crowd.
He seems satisfied with my answers, but I start to worry when he pulls out a Breathalyzer. It has been hours since I had my last drink, but it was strong and I had a lot of it. So when I blow into the device, the hammering in my chest does not subside until the cop reveals a slight nod of the head—my reading was just below 0.08, thank God.
After providing my license and my details, I get back on my bike and make my way to the hospital, suppressing the urge to break the speed limit. It feels like an eternity before I get there, even though it can’t be more than half an hour.
When I reach the ER reception, I ask for Elle and a heavy-set nurse with half-moon glasses perched on her nose looks her up on the computer.
“Are you next of kin?”
“I’m—she’s my girlfriend.”
“Well, she’s in surgery now.”
“How long has she been in there? How long is it going to take? Is she going to be okay?” My voice sounds desperate, and at the back of my mind I know I can’t expect her to give me the answers I’m craving for, but I’m so anxious to find out that I have completely lost my cool. The fierce scowl on the nurse’s face doesn’t even deter me, and I am about to demand the information from her when a large hand settles on my shoulder.
“I’ll fill him in.”
I step sideways, ready to hit out, until I notice the hand on my shoulder belongs to Damon, Elle’s friend. He leads me to the waiting area, and we find the only two unoccupied seats in a corner, furthest away from the reception desk.
“How long has she been in there?” I ask him.
“They brought her in about an hour ago and took her straight into the operating theater. I briefly spoke to the paramedic and he assured me she’s going to be all right.”
I let out a small breath. I wish I could transfer her to NYU Langone Medical Center, where the considerable donations I make each year give me access to the very best specialists, but it’s too late now. I’ll just have to hope she is in good hands here.
Damon glances at his watch. “Listen, do you have any plans for tonight? We can take turns waiting.”
“No, I want to stay. But if you have somewhere to go, feel free. I’ll call you once I receive any news.”
“Actually, I’m going to be late for work.”
“At this hour?”
“Yep. Security. It’s my night job.”
“Don’t worry, man. I’m not leaving her side even if it kills me.”
Damon nods, pulling out his cell, and I am about to do the same until I remember that I left it in the office. So I borrow his phone and call Alex, who gives me hell for not contacting him, but agrees to have my cell couriered over.
After Damon leaves, I pass the next few hours in a daze, until a deep voice calls out, “Anyone here for Lily O’Halloran?”
A surgeon wearing scrubs is looking at a clipboard next to the reception desk, and I leap up.
“Yes, me. I’m here for her.”
As I step closer, I am anxiously scanning the surgeon’s face to observe if the news is going to be bad, but it remains inscrutable.
“How is she? How bad is it? Will she be all right?”
The surgeon glances at the clipboard. “When she was brought in, she was in a very serious condition. She had a lot of internal bleeding, a ruptured spleen, and a Grade Three concussion, as well as two broken legs. But the surgery went well, and she’s stable so we’ve put her into intensive care for now. She’ll be transferred to a ward soon.”
“Will—will she be able to walk?”
“Yes. Obviously it will take a while for her to recuperate, but yes. She’s going to be fine.”
“And the concussion? Will it have any effect?”
“No. But she’ll need her bed rest. She’ll need you to take good care of her.”
“Of course. Will I be able to see her now?”
“Yes, you can see her for a short while. But she won’t be conscious just yet.”
As I follow him to the Intensive Care Unit, my steps feel lighter, and the weight pressing on my heart is gone, replaced by a warm, soaring sensation—hope. Elle is going to be okay. It will take a while for her to fully recover, but she will be fine.
Yet when the surgeon slides away the curtain, my breath hitches. A figure wrapped in bandages and casts is lying on a lone hospital bed, hooked up to a multitude of tubes and cords that snake around beeping machines. I can hardly recognize Elle but for her dark hair protruding from underneath the head bandages.
My heart squeezes with the sight of her, so weak and fragile. I swallow hard, biting back the tears that are pooling behind my eyelids. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this huge, overwhelming feeling before—a mixture of grief, worry, and remorse.
It’s because of me she landed in hospital. I’m responsible.
I bury my head in my hands.
And I vow to myself I will never leave her again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ryder
The last stretch is always the hardest.
An intense ache is assaulting my muscles, but the prospect of conquering the summit spurs me on to push myself harder. With the last ounce of strength I have left in me, I pull myself up and swing my legs over the edge. I stand up, raising my arms to the azure sky. I made it.
My eyes travel down to the cliff face I have just scaled, and I see Elle smiling up at me, her eyebrow piercing glimmering in the sunlight.
“Almost there,” I say. “Here, I’ll help you out.”
I squat down, stretching out my hand. She grabs it, and I start pulling her up to the edge. Her hand becomes colder and colder, until it turns icy, slippery. I hold on to it with all my might, but it’s no use. Her hand slides away from mine. Elle’s big beautiful eyes are gazing at me while she is falling, plummeting into the void.
No!
I wake up with a jolt, my heart beating out of my chest. It takes me a second to remember where I am, but a regular beeping noise coupled with the smell of antiseptic reminds me I am in the hospital.
I open my eyes and blink. In front of me, on the raised bed, lies Elle. She is still hooked up to a heart monitor, but the many tubes and the respirator that helped her breathe after the surgery are gone. Even though her eyes are closed, the monitor screen tells me her heartbeat is strong and steady. I breathe a sigh of relief.
For a long moment I gaze at her—looking so pure, so frail, so beautiful. She is everything I’ve ever wanted, but never realized I did. I can’t imagine life without her now that I know what it feels like—to feel whole. She has become part of me, she is burned into my soul.
A slight movement makes me sit up straight. Is that a twitch of her arm or is it my imagination? Another twitch, this time more pronounced. Elle’s head shifts from side to side, and her eyes flutter and begin to open.
“Hey, beautiful. How’re you feeling?”
On hearing my voice, she trains her gaze on me, a faint smile touching her lips.
“Okay, I guess.” My chest constricts when I hear her voice, so soft that I stand up to move closer to her bed, bending over until I can feel her feathery breath against my ear.
“Are you in any pain?”
“No.” She shakes her head minutely.
I reach out for her slender hand, and feel its coldness in mine. “You have no idea how worried I’ve been about you.”
“I’m fine. You shouldn’t worry. Really.”
“I can’t help it. You’re very precious to me. You know that, don’t you?”
She averts her eyes. “I—I thought you hated me.”
“Me? I could never hate you.”
“But you were angry with me. You know—when you saw me standing in front of the window with Mark.”
I hang my head. I forgot about that. It’s funny how in times of need, things that seemed so important before, turn out to be insignificant.
Elle lets go of my hand, and her fingertips brush my arm, causing my pulse to take a leap.
I say, “It’s in the past. I’ve forgotten about it already. Let’s not talk about it any more.”
“But I want to. I want you to know why I was there. It isn’t what you think. I didn’t go there to support them. I realized you were telling me the truth, and I wanted to talk to Adam about it, and make him stop the occupation. But Mark pushed me towards the window and started shouting all this nonsense.”
I sigh. “I’ve got to admit, it was painful seeing you there.”
“I know and I’m sorry. I never, ever meant to hurt you.”
She draws her fingers across my cheek, and I grab her hand, holding it against my chest.
“It’s okay. As long as I have you, I can handle anything.”
“Ryder, I—”
A strange look crosses her eyes that makes me furrow my brow.
“Ssshhh. Just rest. Don’t worry about anything, okay? Everything’s going to be all right.”
She looks down. “No. No, it’s not.”
“What do you mean?”
She doesn’t answer me straightaway, the silence between us punctuated by the beeping and whirring of the medical equipment. But when she does, the expression on her face makes my blood run cold.
“It’s just—this isn’t going to work out. And I wanted it to, so badly. I was about to talk to you, to make it up to you, when I heard about the race. I couldn’t believe you’d actually do it, but then I saw you, with Mikey. I thought you promised me you wouldn’t. Why? Why did you do it?”
Dropping her hand, I crumple back into the chair, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. “I was just so angry with you, I couldn’t think straight. And I had been drinking. When Mikey challenged me, I couldn’t say no. I wanted to punish you for betraying me, for running back to your friends. But I came to my senses just before the race. By the time you arrived I’d already called it off. If you don’t believe me, ask Mikey. He’s taken the cash.”
“I believe you. I do. But you have no idea how I felt when I saw you there, about to do what I asked you, begged you, not to do. That feeling… that you could be hurt, that you could be killed. It almost broke me. I—I can’t go through that again. It felt worse than I’ve ever felt in my life. It felt a lot worse than I feel now.”
The pained expression in her eyes makes me take a deep breath. “Beautiful, we can get through this. We’ll work it out somehow.”
“No. I think we just have to face it. It’s never going to work out between us. We live in completely different worlds. There will always be something or someone standing in our way. We’re just not meant to be together.”
“If this is about the race, about my promise—I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. I’ll do anything, anything to make it up to you.”
Elle shakes her head. “It’s too late.”
“Don’t say that. I know it’s not going to be easy, but we can get through it together. We’ll make it work. I want us to work because you mean so much to me.” Because I love you. The words are stuck in my throat, terrified she’ll leave me after admitting how I really feel about her.
I look into her eyes, but she averts her gaze, and my heart sinks.
She whispers, “Ryder, I think it’s time to move on. For me and for you. So it’s best if you go now. Just go.”
I clench my fists.
“I—I…” I want to tell her that we can still work things out, that I can’t lose her, that I can’t live without her. That this is going to break me.
But no words come out of my mouth.
Closing her eyes, Elle turns her head away from me. “And… don’t come back. Please.”
The hospital room is eerily quiet, but inside me I hear the noise of the world crashing down on me.
I stand up, in a daze, casting a last glance at Elle.
As I push open the door, I know that by leaving her, I’m losing a piece of me.
Elle
As soon as the door shuts behind Ryder, the tears welling behind my closed eyes, burst like a dam. The deep sobs that rack my insides are shaking me, choking me.
I let him walk out of my life—again. And with him, he has taken the only chance I will ever have to find true happiness. I know it, because I’ve never felt this way with anyone else before: cherished, carefree, secure… happy.
But ironically, that’s exactly why I had to let him go. The moment I saw him getting ready for the race, was one of the scariest I’ve ever had in my life. The thought of something bad happening to him—of losing him—was devastating to me, and I don’t ever want to go through that again.
Who was I kidding, to think that it could work out between us. Even if he has the same deep feelings for me as I do for him, it could never work, regardless of how hard we try. Sometimes love just isn’t enough.
It was tough to let him go, but I will survive it. I will move on and live my life, and so will he.
Tears are still streaming down my face when a knock on the door wakes me from my thoughts. I quickly wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.
“Come in.”
Rose walks in, a pained expression in her eyes. When she spots me, she darts towards the bed and takes my hand.
“Sis. I was so worried. Are you okay?”
I open my mouth to answer her, but the loud wailing sound
s that emerge behind Rose interrupt me.
Of course. My mother.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” she says in Chinese, her hands raised up, two white plastic bags dangling from her arms.
“It’s all because you told us that horrible story, that’s why you had this accident.”
I let out a sigh. “No, it’s not because of that. It has nothing to do with it. It was just an accident. The roads were slippery and I lost control.”
“It’s because you were riding a motorcycle. You shouldn’t. It’s too dangerous.”
I shoot her a menacing glare. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Before I assail her with a barrage of expletives, Rose puts a hand on her arm. “Mom. Elle needs to rest. Just leave the food here, and we’ll come back another time.”
Nodding, my mother puts her plastic bags on the nightstand.
“Here, I’ve got you some Chinese soup. You’ll recover much faster. Don’t eat too much of the hospital food, it’s no good.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
I am relieved when she turns to leave, but before she walks through the door, she glances back at me. “Where’s that handsome boyfriend of yours?”
“You mean Ryder? He’s not here.”
“What? You’re in hospital, you almost die, and he’s not here?”
“He was here, but—it’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Tsk, he’s no good, that boy, if he can walk away from you like this, instead of looking after you. He clearly doesn’t care about you. Well, maybe it’s for the best.”
As the door shuts behind her, I shut my eyes.
If only she knew. She would have given me a roasting about how I am no good, echoing the familiar belittlement I grew up with. And this time, I would not disagree with her. It is true: I’m not good enough for him. He could do so much better than being involved with a crippled fuck-up who’d cause him enough grief for more than a lifetime. He would be happier without me.
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