by Angel Lawson
Before he could open the door, I moved to the gap between him and the door. “Tell me what’s going on with Hayden. How is he?”
His eyes flicked to mine. Guarded. “He suffered a bad concussion—his second in three months. He has two broken ribs and a twisted ankle. They won’t know how bad until they do more tests and X-rays.”
I swallow. “Is he awake?”
“Yes. But sedated. The nurse just gave him a shot.” A smile flitted over his lips. “He’s high as a kite.”
I nodded and moved so he could open the door. Anderson paused and I saw the tic in his jaw. I knew that tic. “What?”
“Jackson told me you were on the way.”
“Ah, he prepared you.” Hurricane Heaven was about to crash land.
“He told me why you felt obligated to come.” His fist clenched on the doorframe. “You know you don’t owe any of us anything, right?”
“Hayden’s hurt. I’m not stepping aside if he needs help.”
He unfurled his fingers and ran them through his hair. Something I’d seen him do a million times over. “Don’t walk in that door if you’re going to vanish again.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. If you go in there, you’re opening old wounds and yeah, I think he’ll want to see you, but there’s enough broken in him right now that the last fucking thing he needs is to mend a broken heart.”
I looked into Anderson’s eyes. Green and flaring with pain. Pain I didn’t cause. It was the second time the accusation had flung my way in the last day and anger boiled past my grief. In a low voice I said, “Don’t you dare lecture me on broken hearts, Anderson Thompson. I’m not the one that got on that plane and flew across the country without another look back. Or took a job traveling around the globe playing a game. I didn’t start a business and build an empire with my buddies. I didn’t make the rules about our relationship and I certainly didn’t get to keep my best friends once it fell apart.”
Anderson held his breath as I continued.
“You’re the one that said it; we’re family. And if there’s one thing I know it’s that family is messy as hell, but I also know that we’re stuck with one another. We have to forgive one another and we have to fight for one another when shit hits the fan.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed beneath the scruff of his unshaved face. Without another word he opened the door and I braced myself for what was on the other side.
To his credit, the minute we walked into the hospital room, Anderson’s demeanor changed. Whatever anger and hostility he had for me vanished and he focused completely on his friend. Thank god, because I was a blubbering mess.
Hayden’s gray eyes were droopy and glazed when they passed over me but the smallest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. His face was bruised, mostly around his eye, and a deep cut split his lip. His foot was elevated in a cast and although he was shirtless, his entire torso was wrapped in thick, white, bandages.
“Fuck, I must be reallllllly hurt,” his eyes jumped from me to Anderson, “if you two showed up at my deathbed.”
“You’re not dying, asshole,” Anderson said, but I heard the way the words were forced out of his throat. He was freaking out, too. “I do think maybe you’ve lost your handsome looks for good, though.”
Hayden shifted his attention to me. “What do you think? Are my modeling days over?”
I inhaled, trying to steady myself from wave after wave of emotions rolling through me. My hands clenched around the bed railing and I thought of myself on the other side, when they looked down on me like this, and I don’t think I ever comprehended how much fear they had until this very moment.
“Heaven,” he said. “I’m going to be fine. Promise.”
“I just had to make sure you were okay. I saw the game—watched it—and when you went down, I don’t know. We called and there was no information and no one would say anything and I just panicked.” My hands shook so bad that I barely noticed when Anderson took one in his. “Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?”
Hayden’s eyes locked with mine. “Wait…you watched my game?”
I nodded and he smiled lazily, pleased.
Anderson walked over to the table and returned with a handful of tissues. I took them and wiped my face. “Tell me what I can do.”
He glanced between the two of us and said, “Just sit with me? I’m pretty sure I’m going to crash in about five minutes, but sitting with me would be great. Just knowing you’re here helps.” His words were already slurred. I stepped forward and tentatively took his hand, linking his fingers with mine. A spark passed through me, one of familiarity. I squeezed tight and ran my hand over his short hair as he exhaled and his eyes fluttered shut.
12
Heaven
The alarm on my phone trilled and I quickly stopped it before it woke up the two sleeping beauties in the room. It was 10 p.m., and the alarm was for my medication, not sleep. Regardless, neither moved an inch. Hayden was helped by doses of painkillers and Anderson, in the uncomfortable chair, from sheer exhaustion. His long legs sprawled under the bed and his hands were crammed in his hoodie pockets. I knew he had the ability to sleep anywhere; partly from being male but also from so many long days at meets.
I quietly crept into the bathroom, rummaging through my purse for my medication. I’d been on it since freshman year, with a few alterations here and there. It definitely helped keep my depression in balance. That didn’t mean every day was a good day. Depression didn’t work that way, but the meds kept me a little more even and the demons at bay.
I popped two pills in my mouth and took a swig of water from the bottle by the sink. A glance in the mirror told me I looked like hell. My brown hair felt greasy and needed a wash. Red rimmed my eyes from exhaustion and tears. But inside it felt right to be here. I knew how much it meant to wake up in a hospital bed and find someone you care about waiting for you.
He’d done it for me and I’d do it back.
I opened the door and Anderson consumed the doorway, his eyes bleary with sleep, although not tired enough to not notice the two bottles of medication in my hand. I shoved them in my bag.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I dragged my hand through my hair. “Just trying to wake up a little.”
He grunted and we swapped places. When he appeared a few minutes later, Hayden was awake and the doctor had come in to check his progress.
“Mr. Pierce will be in testing most of tomorrow and they’ll start early. The doctor wants to do an MRI for the concussion and X-rays on his knee,” the assisting male nurse said, adjusting Hayden’s bed. We’d been in the room for close to twenty-four hours. Every surface was covered in coffee cups and plastic wrappers from the vending machine food. “I suggest you go home for the night and rest.”
“I’ll stay,” I said, glancing at Hayden. “I don’t mind.”
“Bab—” He stopped the endearment. “Heaven, seriously. Go take a nap.”
“I’m fine.”
“Thompson,” he glared at Anderson, “get her the hell out of here. She’s about to crash.”
“You don’t want me to stay?” I asked.
His eyes flicked over me. “I want you to rest. Take a nap. Eat some protein.” He jerked his head at Anderson. “My boy needs a…” He grappled for the word, but finally adds, “shower.”
Anderson rubbed his face and head, sending his reddish-brown hair into disheveled spikes. I had a feeling if I didn’t go, Anderson wouldn’t either, so I finally relented.
“Fine. I’ll head out for a few hours and be back tonight, okay?”
“Tomorrow,” Hayden said with a firm but tired look. “Sleep for real, okay? And then come back tomorrow so we can talk over some stuff.”
Anderson frowned. “What kind of stuff?”
The doctor replied for him, “Mr. Pierce is going to need to work out a treatment plan for the next few months. It’s best to have a loved one present to understand the details.”
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Treatment plan. Months. Loved one. Wow. The words swirled in my brain, like wicked sense of déjà vu from my own stays in the hospital. Recovery took time. Physical or mental.
I plastered on a smile and walked over to squeeze Hayden’s hand. “We’ll be back in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Take it easy today and call if you need anything.”
“I will.” He looked between me and Anderson. “And you two play nice.”
“What does that mean?”
He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. Don’t think I can’t smell the tension. Be nice to each other. Rest and we’ll figure out the rest later.”
Anderson reached out and they bumped fists, a ripple of communication rolling between them. I grabbed my bag and Anderson picked up my suitcase and we walked out the door.
“Do you have a car?” I asked, suddenly feeling lost in a new city with no destination other than this hospital. “I need to find a hotel.”
He shook his head. “You’ll stay with me.”
It wasn’t a question. I raised an eyebrow. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“I think we both need sleep and a shower. I can provide both.”
I followed him out the door, wondering how in one week I’d fallen back into the world of the Allendale Four. My biggest concern wasn’t how hard it was to be around my guys again—it was how easy—and how much it’d hurt when it was over.
Anderson’s apartment was located near the aquatic center. The facility was built during the Olympics in 1996 and now was used for collegiate-level teams and beyond. Anderson’s coach moved from our university down here and he followed, continuing his training. It was a weird but awesome coincidence that he and Hayden ended up in the same town.
I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings as we drove from the hospital back to his apartment. It was late. The streets were empty. Exhaustion set in quickly and he carried my suitcase into the house.
“Make yourself at home,” he said as we entered the small space. The kitchen and living room butted up against one another. One bedroom sat off the main room. He pointed inside. “The bathroom’s in there.”
“You go first,” I told him, setting my suitcase in the corner. My senses were overwhelmed by…everything. The place felt like Anderson. Smelled like him. I ran my hand over a throw pillow that must have come with the leather couch.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he said, heading to his room. We looked awkwardly at one another as he shut the door, giving himself privacy. The click of the lock echoed in my ears.
I sat on the couch and took a deep, Anderson-scent-filling breath. I shouldn’t be here. Not if I wanted to keep my sanity. Anderson of all the guys…our history was so tightly woven…more so than any other. Even if there was no Allendale Five, there probably still would have been an Anderson and Heaven.
Which was another reason all of this was so confusing and difficult.
I gathered my pajamas and wandered the small living room while the water ran in the other room. The décor was sparse—fitting for Anderson’s all-work-no-fun attitude. A shelf of trophies sat over the television. These were all new. Awards and medals. The trophy he received at Nationals. I ran a finger over the engraving, feeling pride for his accomplishments. He worked so hard. They all had. We all had. There was nothing to regret.
A stack of news clippings sat on the shelf. Sports articles about Hayden. The press release about A5 opening in Allendale. I flipped through them and stopped short when I saw a small grouping at the bottom. It was a list of every TV show and movie I’d worked on over the last two years.
The bathroom door opened and I dropped the papers, stepping away from the shelf. Anderson walked out of the steamy bathroom, in a gray t-shirt and shorts, drying his wet hair with a towel.
“All done,” he said, moving out of my way. “Listen, you take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”
“I’m not taking the bed.”
He frowned. “Heaven, just take the bed. It’s not a big deal.”
I looked behind him at the mahogany headboard, and the quilt his grandmother sewed him as a baby. “Did you get a new mattress?”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “No.”
I groaned. “So you’ve still got that amazing one?”
His arms crossed. “I do.”
“Dammit,” I muttered. His mattress was amazing. Perfectly molded to fit his body and anyone else that laid down. But I suspected it smelled like Anderson and the last thing I needed was to be fully enveloped in his scent. “Take the bed, Thompson. I’ll be fine on the couch.”
A beat held between us and for the first time since arriving, I felt the old sense of comradery. I escaped to the bathroom before I suffocated on ancient history.
13
Heaven
The couch wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was basically a torture device.
I flopped on my back, then my side, then my stomach.
I stared across the room, toward Anderson’s door where the most comfortable mattress in the world cradled him like a warm hug.
His room was also pitch dark with blackout curtains. He didn’t have the glare of parking lot lights peering in the living room windows like a beacon. God, I was so tired.
I rolled over again. Then once more. I settled on my stomach.
I heard a creak, then the padding of footsteps, and closed my eyes.
“I know you’re awake.”
With my eyes still shut, I said, “I’m not awake.”
“You’ve been tossing and turning for an hour.” I peeked at his crossed arms and long body leaning against the doorframe. “The leather squeaks. Come on, let’s switch.”
“I’m fine, Anderson.”
We stare at one another in the faint light, caught in an impasse. I saw the wariness in his eyes, the reluctance of having me in his home—in his life. “The last thing I wanted was for you to hate me,” I blurted.
“What?” He blanched. “I don’t hate you, Heaven.”
“You’ve barely spoken a full sentence since I got here. Not at the hospital. Not in the car. Not here.”
His jaw tightened. “Maybe I don’t know what to say.”
“A lack of words has never been an issue for you, Anderson. You’re mad. You hate me—I betrayed you somehow, I’m sure.” He’d alluded to it in the hospital hallway when he threatened me about running again.
What he says next takes me by surprise. “I don’t hate you, Heaven, I hate this.”
“Hate what? If not me, then what?”
“The tension between us. The…distance…whatever it is.” His eyes averted. “I don’t think we should talk about this. Not now.”
“Why not?” I glanced around the dark room. “We’ve got time.”
He doesn’t speak, but his eyes flicked to mine and I caught a glimpse of something I’d seen before. Worry. For me.
“You’re afraid I’ll get upset?” I asked.
“I think we’re both under a lot of stress.”
“But I’m the fragile one. You can take it, but I can’t.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“I’m better, you know. Taking my meds. I have a great job. Friends. All of that stuff is in the past.”
“I’m glad. I really am.”
“Then why the look? The frowny lines over your forehead?” He smoothed them with a hand subconsciously, before they delved into his hair.
“Seriously?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you in two years, Heaven. We went through a lot of shit together. Don’t forget I was the one—is it wrong for me to think maybe I need to take precautions?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I said, well aware that he saved me that night in the ocean.
I wasn’t being fair though, I knew that. How would he know about my mental stability? How would he know I was doing well?
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right, we did go through a lot of shi
t together and I desperately try to leave that in the past. I’m better. For real, and if I never said it or never said it enough, I appreciated everything you did for me.”
There was a beat of peace that flowed between us. Maybe that was why he’d been so angry. He was concerned? He’d never been one to handle his emotions appropriately.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I hate that it took Hayden getting hurt for me to see you again.”
I sat up on the couch, pulling the blanket with me. I jerked my head, implying but not asking for him to sit next to me. If I asked and he said no, I might crumble entirely.
He moved slowly, like he had to consider it—consider the ramifications—but crossed the room and sank down in the leather. “I never wanted any of this to happen between the five of us,” I said. “But you know as well as I do that things just weren’t the same.”
He didn’t respond.
“What we had together—the five of us—was special, but also so unique it existed in a fragile bubble. Careers, travel, life…none of us, especially me, knew how to make that work,” I confessed.
“And when that bubble burst, you ran.”
I frowned and shot him a look. “I didn’t run. Why do you keep saying that? We agreed to be apart. Completely apart.”
“No, you agreed to that and we gave you space. I came out here. Hayden joined the team. The guys built their business and you just…vanished.” His words cling to a hollow in my chest. “You know I still talk to them—almost every day. We text and call and all that shit you do when you’re close to one another.”
“But you were friends before me and it makes sense you’d be friends after. I didn’t know where I fit in that once…”
“Once we stopped having sex?” His tired green eyes surveyed me from the other side of the couch.
“Yeah. Isn’t that what all break-ups are about? Balancing the love of friendship and intimacy.” God, what we wove was so complicated. So very fragile and complicated. “And when you still—”
“Still what?”
I swallowed back the word love. “When you still care for someone, it’s impossible to see them without feeling the loss over and over again.”