Out of Sight

by Rebecca Duval

  He was powerless and terrified, and he hated it. The car journey had been bad enough, with Connor trying, and failing miserably to hide his tears as he drove, and Isla fidgeting in the back seat beside him. He’d wanted to yell at Connor to go faster, but he’d already been gripping the edge of the seat in terror, as the rain lashed against the windows of the car. In the last three years, he hadn’t been driven anywhere by anyone, other than Ryder.

  Now they were in a waiting room, or so Connor told him. All Ethan was sure of was the hard plastic of the chair beneath him, the cloying smell of trauma in his nostrils, and the pounding of his heart against his ribs.

  His palms felt clammy, and he wiped the one that wasn’t clenched around his cane against his jeans. Then he felt fingers linking between his own. Soft, warm, smooth, shaking lightly. Isla. She was still there, beside him. Because she didn’t know the truth. Ethan’s chest constricted at the memory of how close he’d come to confessing everything.

  “Mr MacRae?” A voice Ethan didn’t recognise came from somewhere to his left, and he turned instinctively.

  “Aye?”

  “Connor MacRae?”

  “That’s me.” Ethan heard Connor get to his feet.

  “You’re James’ next of kin, I understand.”

  Connor coughed. “Aye.”

  “I’m Dr Ferguson. If you’d like to follow me…”

  Connor didn’t move. “I can see him?”

  “Not yet I’m afraid, but I can give you an update on his condition.”

  “You can tell me here, this is my brother and his...girlfriend.”

  Isla’s hand tensed beneath his, and there was a fraction of a second where he thought she would correct Connor, but she didn’t, and then it was gone, and done with, and the doctor was talking again, and still, the world rolled around in Ethan’s head, pinballing against his memories.

  “As you wish,” Dr Ferguson said. “He’s out of surgery, in recovery. We’ve repaired the break to his leg, and stopped the bleeding. He should shortly be coming round from the anaesthesia. After that, he’ll be transferred to the intensive care unit.”

  A shudder ran through Ethan, and Isla gripped his hand tighter, even though she didn’t know - couldn’t possibly know - the horrors those words evoked in his mind.

  “But he’ll be alright, won’t he? I mean, I know it might take time, but he will recover?”

  Ethan heard the note of pleading in his brother’s voice and Dr Ferguson’s gentle throat-clearing.

  Oh god. Here it comes…

  “His condition is stable, Mr MacRae, but his injuries are severe. I would anticipate a lengthy stay in hospital, and a period of rehabilitation. I’m sorry.”

  Isla shook gently beside him, and Ethan knew she was crying, and as bleak as everything was already, the thought of Isla’s tears made everything feel so much worse.

  “Aye,” Connor said softly. “Aye, right.”

  He was in shock. Ethan could hear it in his brother’s voice. Ethan cleared his own throat, but he needn’t have bothered, his words came out hoarse, and broken, all the same.

  “Thank ye, doctor, we appreciate your frankness. When will my brother be able to see him?”

  “Give it an hour. I expect he’ll be settled on ICU by then. There’s a relatives’ room if you’d like to wait up there for him. It’s on the third floor-”

  “Aye,” Ethan said, cutting him off. “I ken where it is. We will. Thank ye.”

  The row of seats jerked as Connor sat down heavily beside him.

  “You alright there, brother?” Ethan asked quietly.

  “You’re probably wondering why I’m listed as his next of kin,” Connor said, blankly.

  “Not really,” Ethan replied.

  He heard Isla’s sharp inhale of breath, and felt her tense beside him. So she knew.

  “What?” Connor’s tone finally held expression, and it was pure, unfettered disbelief. “You mean...you know?”

  “Aye,” Ethan said. “I’m blind, Connor, not fucking stupid. What did you think? That my brother and my best friend would fall in love right under my nose, and I wouldnae notice?”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Connor asked, eventually.

  “I was waiting for you to tell me. I figured you’d do it in your own time. Why didn’t you?”

  “I...we...didnae know how you’d react.”

  “Jesus, Connor. After everything, you think I’d begrudge anyone happiness? Especially you- you’re my brother. And Ryder. God, where would I be without him?”

  Where would he be without Ryder? Ethan’s lungs were constricting, he felt like his entire chest was collapsing.

  “I’m sorry.” Connor’s voice croaked. “I wish I’d told you sooner.”

  Ethan fought for breath. “So do I.” He couldnae fall apart, not now. Connor needed him. Ryder needed him.

  Isla squeezed Ethan’s hand.

  And Isla? Isla needed the truth. No matter what it would cost him to give it. But not here. Not now.

  *

  The ceiling lights were bright, and unforgiving, casting deep pools of shadow beneath Ethan’s eyes, as he paced back and forth in the cramped room. Isla kept her legs tucked under the padded vinyl chair, not wanting him to trip on his relentless path to nowhere.

  His anxiety was understandable. Connor had gone through to see Ryder half an hour ago, and she and Ethan had been waiting alone in clinical purgatory since. Isla discarded her paper cup of watery tea on the table beside her, and a figure appeared in the doorway.

  “Connor! How is he?” Isla jumped to her feet, and Ethan stopped pacing, swivelling on his heel.

  “He’s unconscious. Covered in wires and tubes, but I expected that.” Connor’s gaze flickered to his brother. “Do you want me to take you through to him?”

  *

  It was like being catapulted back in time. The smell, the noise, the terror snaking just below the surface of his skin that made Ethan want to turn around and flee.

  “Here he is,” Connor said.

  Ethan felt the brush of a curtain against his shoulder as Connor guided him to Ryder’s bedside. Connor placed Ethan’s hand on the cold metal bed rail, and Ethan gripped it as though it could prevent him from sliding any further into this waking nightmare.

  Maybe he was cursed. But instead of some ancient aristocrat being to blame, it was himself, Ethan MacRae: a man so toxic that anyone who got too close paid the price.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Connor’s words broke into his spiralling self-hatred. “It’s one visitor at a time, but they might make an exception…”

  Ethan shook his head, just once. He didn’t want to be alone, but this would be hard for Connor too, he knew. He wasn’t the only one battling memories. How many times must Connor have stood beside his bed like this, over the months that Ethan had spent in it?

  “No. I dinnae want Isla to be on her own.” Ethan said. That was true at least.

  The curtain swished behind him as Connor left, and Ethan moved closer to the bed, fighting every instinct in his body that told him to back away from the smell of iodine, and the beeping machinery.

  “Ryder.” Ethan’s voice came out croaky and jarred his nerves. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m so sorry. If I could swap places with you right now, I would. My brother-” Ethan faltered. “He finally told me about the two of you. Daft bastards, the pair of you. Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  Ethan waited for an answer that wouldn’t come. He gripped the bedrail tighter. “I dinnae ken if you can hear me. I only remember fragments from when I was under, but I need you to know I’m sorry. I need you to know what you mean to me. You and Connor...you’re all I’ve got. And Isla-” Ethan broke off. And Isla. He ran one hand through his hair. What if she’d been in the car too? What if Ryder had been taking her home when it happened?

  Ethan’s heartbeat overtook the steady beep of Ryder’s coming from the monitor beside him.

  The curtain swish
ed behind him.

  “Oh, hello. I’m Marlena, James’ nurse.” She had a soft Glaswegian accent and chewed gum as she spoke.

  Ethan nodded in greeting, or at least he thought he did. His mind was racing away from him, screening one terrifying possibility after another behind his eyes.

  “Are you his next of kin?” Marlena was still talking.

  “My brother,” Ethan mumbled.

  Marlena was moving around the bed, pressing things that beeped, shuffling paper. “Well, your brother is doing well,” she continued, misunderstanding his garbled reply. “His vitals are stable, and we’ll be attempting to bring him round later. Wait, don’t I know you? You look familiar...”

  “I was a patient here,” Ethan said flatly. “Five years ago.”

  Marlena gasped. “That’s right. I was a student then, I remember when they brought you in…” she trailed off. “And now your brother…”

  Ethan was going to correct her, explain that Ryder wasn’t his brother, but the words died on his lips. After all, he was his brother in every way that mattered.

  “How awful,” Marlena murmured. “What are the chances?”

  Ethan wasn’t sure if she was talking to him, or herself, but already his mind had latched on to the words. What were the chances? Five years to the very night that he’d been in a car accident, and lost everything, Ryder lay in the very same position Ethan had. Unconscious, fighting for life. How could it possibly be a coincidence?

  “Well if you need anything, just ask. I’m sure it can’t be easy after everything you went through to be back here again.”

  “Thank you,” Ethan managed, feeling his throat closing up. He had to get out of here. “You’ll tell us, if he wakes up, or if anything changes?”

  “Of course,” Marlena confirmed.

  *

  Ethan pressed his forehead to the cool wall of the corridor. This was his fault. The thought consumed him, obliterating his ability to think or feel or do anything else, even breathe. Most panic attacks hit him out of nowhere, like a flipping of a switch, but this one he could feel coming, like hearing the rumble of a train in the distance, but finding yourself tied to the tracks.

  Rosehill might not be cursed, but he was.

  It was too late for Ryder, but there was still a chance he could save Isla.

  *

  “I brought coffee,” Connor spoke gently from the doorway.

  Isla looked up, her eyes filled with tears. “I should be doing that.”

  Connor sat down beside her. “Hey. Let’s just agree to all look after each other, aye?” He passed her one of the cardboard cups he was holding. “Besides, I amnae even sure this qualifies as coffee in all honesty.”

  Isla managed a weak smile. “How is he really?”

  “Not as bad as I was expecting. But then, I was expecting the worst. I remember the first time they let me see Ethan…” he trailed off, and shook his head, looking around the room. “God this place brings back bad memories. I never thought I’d be sitting here again.”

  “I’m sorry, Connor. I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you, or for Ethan.” Isla touched his arm.

  “Aye,” Connor said. “I’m surprised he’s holding up as well as he is. He has a phobia of hospitals you know?”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” Isla said softly. It made sense that he would, but it only reminded her of all the other things she didn’t know about Ethan MacRae, and every fact she uncovered or secret he revealed, seemed to only push them further apart.

  “Oh, aye,” Connor continued. “Ryder’s had to stitch him up a few times, especially in his early days at Rosehill. He had a fair few accidents before he learned his way around.”

  “Can Ryder...can he do that?” Isla asked. “I mean, is he qualified?”

  “Officially? No. But there isnae much Ryder wouldnae do for Ethan if he asked. The way he sees it, he owes Ethan his life.”

  “Why?”

  “Ethan gave Ryder a chance when no one else would, and as far as he’s concerned, that chance saved him.”

  “Does Ethan know that he feels that way?”

  “I dinnae ken. My brother isnae one for compliments, as you might have noticed. He wasnae always like that, but since the accident...he believes only the very worst things about himself, and no one can convince him otherwise.”

  Isla could well imagine what those things were. They’d been etched across his face only a few hours before.

  “What was he like, before?” The question fell from her lips.

  Connor looked surprised but recovered quickly. “God, it’s been so long, I cannae remember. He laughed a lot, I know that. Nothing could get him down. Everything he did, he did at one hundred percent, all of the time. Everyone loved him. They still would...if he’d let them.” Connor caught her eye, and Isla glanced away.

  They sat in silence. Isla clutched the cardboard cup between her hands. The heat from the coffee thawed her skin in the over-air-conditioned room, but it did nothing for the chill in her veins.

  “He isnae a bad person, Isla.” Connor’s words yanked her back to the present. She turned to him. “He’s a good person that something awful happened to.”

  “I know that, Connor, but I can’t make him better by loving him. The awful thing that happened will always have happened, I can’t change it. I can accept that, but what if he can’t? It’s been five years.” Isla caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned to find Ethan standing there. His expression was pure anguish. Oh god, how long had he been listening?

  “How is he?” Connor jumped to his feet.

  “Still out, but stable. I suggest you get some sleep brother.”

  “Aye,” Connor said, on his way out of the door. “We all should. I’ll tell the nurses that we’re leaving.”

  *

  “Hey, how are you holding up?” Isla’s voice was full of concern, and Ethan hated himself already. How could she not see the answer, written there in his face? Although God knows, he’d tried to mask it. He’d paced the corridor for twenty minutes, running through all the ways he could handle this, and how each, and every one of them led to the same conclusion. One that he hated, but one that kept her safe.

  “Isla, we need to talk.”

  “Okay.”

  Ethan swallowed a couple of times. “Seeing Ryder, it reminded me...it reminded me of the accident. Of everything that I lost that night.”

  “Oh, Ethan. That’s only natural-”

  “Please, Isla. Let me finish.” If she interrupted him now, he might never get the words out. And he had to. Ethan forced himself to go on. “I cannae do this, Isla. I’m sorry. I thought I could, but...it’s too much.” It was too much. He could hardly bear it.

  “I- I don’t understand,” Isla stammered.

  Ethan didn’t understand either. He didn’t understand how this could be real. Any of it. That this was the choice he was faced with, and the path he had to take unless he wanted more blood on his hands.

  “Are you saying-” Isla started but couldn’t finish.

  Then he would have to. “It’s over, Isla.”

  *

  “What?” Isla’s voice came out as a whisper, but every other noise seemed to be on full volume. The hum of the overhead lights, the gurgle of the water cooler in the corner of the room, the shuffle of Ethan’s feet against the vinyl floor.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should never have- it should never have happened in the first place.”

  “But it did.” Isla’s voice was stronger now. “Ethan, I know this must be hard for you-”

  “Hard for me?” Ethan made a noise in his throat. “Isla, you have no idea.”

  “So tell me, Ethan. Stop pushing me away. I love you, Ethan.” The words slipped out in her panic, and Isla wished she could take them back, even though they were true. This was not the place, not the time…

  “No!” Ethan sounded horror-stricken. His skin was ashen, his lips pale. “Isla, you can’t- I can’t.” A ripple
of tension passed through him. “I don’t love you Isla.”

  Isla’s stomach contracted as though she’d been punched, but indignation flashed through her like lightning. “Bullshit.”

  Ethan’s jaw slackened, his mouth falling open.

  “I don’t believe you, Ethan. You’re scared. You’ve closed yourself off from everyone around you, and it’s not just because you feel that you don’t deserve them after what happened. It’s that you’re scared to let them in, in case you lose them too. And now you’re pushing me away, hours after one of your closest - one of your only - friends, was involved in an accident, and you expect me to believe it’s because you don’t love me? If anything it only proves that you do.” Isla crossed her arms over her chest, shielding her heart as she waited for his response. She felt like she’d just baited a bear, and was only now realising that its counter attack might finish her off. Oh god, what had she done?

  “You’re right, Isla.” The softness of Ethan’s reply surprised her, and she looked up into his blank face. “I love you.”

  They were the words Isla had thought she’d never hear from Ethan, but there he was, standing right in front of her, the words dying in the air between them. But the way he’d said them- so utterly devoid of expression or emotion, raised the hairs on Isla’s arms. She smoothed her hands over them, trying to ignore the prickle of unease in her gut.

  “You do?”

  “Aye. But it makes no difference. I cannae do this.”

  “Is it because of her...” Isla’s voice shook but she forced herself to continue, “...because of Briony?”

  Something flashed across Ethan’s features, but he fought it back, wrestling his face into that cold mask of composure that made Isla’s stomach roll.

  “Yes. It is.”

  Isla felt like the floor was shifting under her. She tried to focus on something - anything - to keep her grounded. Her eyes focused on the tic working in Ethan’s jaw. He made a gruff noise in the back of his throat, as though he was gearing himself up for something.

  “I dinnae love you the way I loved her. I could never love you the way I loved her. That’s why it’s over.”