“Yeah, baby. It’s me.”
“He’s gonna die.” I shifted even closer to his chest, needing the heat of his body to stop the shivering.
“Shh.” He laid me down on a bed and sat next to me. “This is a good hospital.”
“How do you know?” I needed his reassurance. And some aspirin.
“I read it on their sign out front. It plainly says we are a good hospital.”
“Shut up, Keaton.”
“I’m serious. It was big, bold black letters. Nice font.” He pushed the hair off my forehead. “He’s gonna be okay.”
“Promise me, Keaton.”
“I do. I promise.”
For that moment, it was all I needed.
They wheeled Simon back into surgery and another doctor diagnosed my panic attack. After a shot to calm my racing heart and the pain in my head, I paced the hall. It took the doctors three hours to stop the bleeding in his brain.
His surgeon joined us in the waiting room as soon as the surgery was over, once again in her blue surgical scrubs. “Simon made it through surgery, and he’s back in his room now.”
“Is he gonna…?” Mom’s shaky voice trailed off.
“We need to get him through tonight, but even if he lives, the damage done by the bullet is not something we can completely correct. Some of it we repaired. Some of it was just too bad. The frontal lobe of his brain controls his emotions, personality, memory, and intelligence. Essentially, it controls the person that he is. It’s been partially destroyed. If Simon wakes up, he won’t be the same person he was yesterday. To what degree, I can’t say, but there is a chance he will need constant care if he makes it.”
I didn’t care. All I wanted was to see his eyes open, looking at me. I would feed him, dress him, whatever it took as long as he came back to me.
“Can I see him?” Hope bubbled in my stomach. If I could look at his face for one minute, I would know.
“Tomorrow. He needs to rest tonight.”
“I won’t stay. I just need to see him. Please.”
The doctor looked from me to my mother and back to me. “Okay, but we are keeping him sedated right now.” I nodded. “He doesn’t look like your brother. You need to know that before you go in.”
“Okay.” I wanted to sprint down the hallway to get to him, but I walked slowly, matching her pace. She pushed the glass door open and I stepped inside. They’d taken the bandage off his face, giving me a full picture of the swelling and bruises. A tube in his mouth ran to a machine to help him breathe, and a headband of white gauze around his scalp covered the actual wound. The machine beeped steadily next to him, and I swiped away tears. “He’s alive,” I whispered. My heart slowed and my breathing evened out, matching his machine breath for breath. I turned to the door, then looked back at my brother. “Don’t die.”
My mother stood beside Alex and Keaton, waiting for me to return. “Honey?” Her voice boomed with newfound strength. “Let’s go home and let him rest. We can come back tomorrow.”
Leave? “No. I’m staying here.”
“Joss.” Keaton’s hand caressed the back of my neck. “You can’t stay here.”
“Then I’ll go to the hotel we passed on the way in, but I’m not gonna be an hour away if something happens or if he wakes up.” I shook my head. “I need to be close.”
“Okay. I’ll take you.”
I nodded at Keaton and turned to the elevator. “Will you stay?”
He blew out a big breath. “Try to send me home.” I knew asking Keaton to stay with me made me weak and probably selfish, but I did it anyway.
He drove us to the hotel, took me to our room, and deposited me on the bed closest to the wall. I crumpled onto the blanket and stared at the window. “What if he doesn’t wake up?”
“We can’t think like that, baby.” His voice cracked and I turned to face him. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “He has to be okay.” His shoulders slumped, and he rubbed a hand up and down his face. “He’s going to be okay.”
I nodded. “Will you hold me, Keaton?”
He looked up. “Yes.” In three short strides he was beside the bed, lowering his body next to mine. His arms cuddled me closer, and I rested my head against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. I counted each pulse until I had pushed the world out of mind and could sleep, safe and secure in the knowledge that Keaton would get me through this.
“Do you want me to order some food?” he asked when I woke.
I shook my head.
“Do you want me to go home and get you some clothes today?”
In that neither of us mentioned my leaving and it would probably kill me to try, it was apparent I would be staying for a while. I nodded, trying to hold myself together.
“Should I get myself some clothes, too?”
A lump grew in my throat, and the tears threatened to spill over. “Yes,” I whispered.
“Come here,” he said, his arms around me, my only comfort.
I let the sobs overtake me. He led me back to the bed where he sat cradling me in his arms as I continued to cry.
“He has to be okay. He just has to.”
Chapter 16
It had been eleven days since the shooting and still Simon remained asleep. They’d stopped his pain medication, and he didn’t respond. They introduced stimuli and nothing. The words, if he wakes up, taunted my every waking minute.
Lizette came that morning to see Simon. She’d been there every single day, sat beside him, talked to him without any reaction. Like the last ten mornings, we walked into his room side by side, our hands clasped together. “Wow.” She swallowed hard and moved closer to the bed. Standing back by the door, I watched, needing to see a reaction. I whispered a prayer as she took his hand in hers. “Hi.” She paused as though waiting for an answer, then turned to me. “I don’t know what to say, Joss.” Her eyes searched mine. “We were only having fun, you know? It was supposed to be fun. And now, I’m scared. I shouldn’t be scared.” She swallowed hard and looked up at me. “What do I say?”
My eyes widened. “I don’t know, Liz. Same thing you said yesterday?”
The machine beeped out of rhythm, and I held my breath as it regained its easy pace.
“Well, the phone hasn’t stopped ringing since all of this happened. Everyone is worried about you.” She looked at me again. “Joss, can I have a minute alone with him?”
I nodded, my heart in my shoes. Every single day I hoped that hearing her voice would inspire some reaction. The doctors had said if he was going to open his eyes, he should have by now. They tried everything to make that happen.
When their medical techniques had no effect, I went with the unconventional. I sent in my mother to nag him awake. With my master plan having failed, my heart broke and all hope left me.
Half the town had been promoted to family to get some time with him, undaunted by hospital staff. I stuck him with a pin, even swatted him with a magazine. Still, though his machines recognized me and reacted, he slept. I leaned heavily on prayer in the hopes something divine would occur and he would wake up.
When her ten minutes were up, Lizette walked back into the hallway.
“Anything?”
She blinked once, twice, then ten times before she answered. “No.” Sadness ached in my bones. “I’m going home to take care of the bakery, pay the bills, and that new girl is coming in for an interview.” I walked her to the elevator. “He’s going to wake up, Joss.”
“I know.”
She looked away from me. “Is he going to be Simon when he wakes up?”
I shook my head. “They don’t think so.” The words caused my chest to tighten.
She slumped against me, her breath shallow, broken by sobs. “I’m so mad at him, Joss. He takes all these chances with his life. Like it won’t destroy everyone if something happens to him, and now look.”
I bit my lip to keep the words I wanted to say at bay. I wan
ted to tell her that the bravery and the fearlessness is what she found hot about him in the first place. I opened my mouth to scream at her to stop talking about him that way, but ended up holding her instead. She cried and sobbed, until finally, she could stand straight and step into the elevator.
“I’ll call you if he wakes up.” The door slid shut, and I stomped back to the waiting room. In a chair next to Keaton sat the evil Danielle. I stopped at the doorway.
She stood, clutching a tissue between her fingers. “Can I see him?”
“Why?” My voice trembled and exhaustion seeped in. My brother laying in a bed down the hall, Danielle sitting by Keaton, being strong for Lizette… I didn’t have a fight left in me.
She shook her head and ran her tongue along her bottom lip. “Because I love him, too.”
I opened my mouth to reply. “Tha--”
“And he loved me and you know it.”
I flipped a glance at Keaton, whose eyes locked on me.
“Come on, Joss. Please, let me see him. Then I’ll go.”
“We can’t go in for a while. It’s only every two hours.” The doctor had been adamant that Simon needed his rest.
She nodded. “I’ll wait downstairs.”
Something inside of me broke when Danielle turned to me with honest fear in her eyes. Okay. She wasn’t the person I would have picked to spend time with, but she was right. Simon did love her, probably more than any girl he’d ever dated. Maybe she would be the thing that brought him back to me. “You can wait here with us.”
The three of us sat quietly, staring everywhere but at each other. When it came time to see him again, I stood outside the door, listening for a reaction, for anything, ready to yank her out of there by her hair if she came close to crossing one tiny line with him.
“Simon.”
I heard the tears in her voice.
“I missed you so much. Please don’t die. I know things between us aren’t right. But the other day, in front of my house, all I wanted was the way it used to be. I need you to come back to me. Please. One more chance.”
My head snapped up at that. The other day? I listened to the steady beeps of his heart monitor. They remained consistent, and I walked down the hall, sadness aching in my heart that he didn’t respond to her voice. Without a word to me, she left. There’d been no change, and I, for once, didn’t even have the will to blame her.
The doctors, during the time Simon slept, argued and disagreed about the fluctuations in Simon’s vital signs during the times I sat in his room. One side believed the blips happened because of some magical connection between Simon and me. They chalked it up to the twin thing. The other side believed the variations stemmed from a natural reaction of his body due to the trauma of being shot and the brain damage the bullet left behind. Little strips of paper flowing out of a machine showed minimal brain activity, but spikes danced along the guidelines whenever I spoke to him. Those dips and soars told me Simon fought, trying to make his way back to me. They also helped me convince the doctor I should be allowed in with my brother as often as I could take it. I left only for food, nightly naps, and bathroom breaks.
At precisely eight thirty-seven PM that evening, I had People magazine in my hands as I read aloud when he reached over the rail and grabbed the book, tugging it from my hands.
“I have a headache.”
I hopped up from my chair and pushed the call button for the nurse while reaching a hand out to Simon’s face. Tears of relief streaked down my own cheeks. “You’re awake.”
“What happened?” His voice croaked, hoarse and weak, but no symphony or rock concert in history ever sounded better.
“You got shot.” I took a full second to wonder if I should have blurted it out that way.
He looked confused. “At school?”
The doctor walked coolly into the room, clipboard in hand, then politely booted me out. She asked me to go back to the waiting room and promised she would come out to speak with me as soon as she examined Simon. I walked down the hall, calling my mother as I turned the corner to resume my vigil. Keaton sat with his feet up on the table, watching some sitcom rerun. “Mom,” I said, the tears still falling. “He’s awake.”
She inhaled sharply and a sob vibrated the speaker in my ear. “Is he okay? Can he talk?”
“He talked to me. Said he has a headache. Then the doctor came in and asked me to leave, but he’s awake, Mom.” Happiness, worry, and excitement warred inside me all at once as my body struggled to play catch-up with my brain.
“Oh, honey. Alex and I will be there in an hour. Tell him, okay?”
“Of course.”
Keaton stood and placed his arm around me, squeezing me in closer. I looked up into his tear glistened eyes. His friend, my brother, survived.
“What did the doctor say?”
His voice cracked with emotion, and I knew he believed we’d lost Simon forever. With each day that passed, hope faded. But in this moment, I could barely stand as relief overshadowed fear.
“That she wanted to examine him, and then she would come out and talk to me.” I wrapped both arms around Keaton’s waist and buried my head in his chest. “I didn’t know if he was going to wake up, and I was scared he was going to die.”
He smoothed my hair. “I know. Me, too.”
“This isn’t a dream, right? I’m awake?”
He pinched my arm hard.
“What the hell?” I pushed away from him, rubbing the spot.
“Nope.” He grinned. “You’re definitely awake.”
True to her word, my mother arrived an hour later, and still no sign of Dr. Fitzsimmons. An hour after, with still no word, I scampered down the hall to the nurse’s station. Kristen, a nurse with whom I chatted during my stay there, smiled.
“He woke up, I hear. That’s great.”
She’d consoled me during the many times discouragement dwarfed possibility. Her untainted youth, smile, and sincerity all added to my joy over Simon’s recovery.
“Yeah.” I peeked into Simon’s room. His bed sat empty, the blankets and my brother gone. “Where is he?”
“CT or MRI Lab. Not sure which one, but he should be back soon.”
I nodded.
“I tell everybody I know about you two. Not your names, because, you know, that’s against the law, but what you’re doing for him and how he responds to you.” She shook her short dark hair. “And the connection you have. I never believed in all that psychic business until I witnessed it with my own eyes.”
Her mouth continued to move with words, but a sudden ringing filled my ears, and I couldn’t focus on what they meant.
“Hey, are you okay?”
The noise screamed louder ,and I grabbed onto the counter in front of me for support.
She rushed around her station and helped me remain upright, one arm around my waist and one under my elbow.
“What the hell?” The ringing gave way to a throbbing headache, but my Jell-O legs hardened, and I remained semi-vertical on my own.
“You probably need to go home and get a good night’s sleep. Now that he’s awake you can relax, you know.”
I shook my head as a team wheeled Simon down the hall.
“I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” Fitzsimmons said quietly, following the entourage of staff into his glass-encased room.
I slumped my way back to Keaton and plopped down in the chair. So many people surrounded Simon as they wheeled him down the hall I couldn’t tell if he was still awake. What if he slipped back into the coma? What if something happened? Another brain bleed? What if…
Keaton’s hand squeezed mine. “Don’t, baby. He’s awake.”
“But what if…”
“Joss, you gotta stop looking for the dark side. He’s awake and he’s gonna be fine.” His voice exuded confidence, but his eyes betrayed his courage. These minutes of not knowing scared him, too.
“Dark side?”
&n
bsp; “Jumping to conclusions.”
I shot him a look. He held up a hand in surrender.
“Oh, you can try to deny it all you want, but I think we both know you worry yourself about things until they eat at you, and then you take it out…” He let the sentence fall away for a second and grinned. “On all those sexy shoes you own.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I would have liked to deny it, but…
Chapter 17
Past July - Age 24
Keaton and I spent the first year of our marriage working ourselves to death. He’d landed a job running a resort in at the edge of town, and I still slaved at the bakery with Mary Elizabeth. She’d been on some reality TV show, won a boatload of money in a cake contest, and decided to expand. Suddenly, donuts struck her fancy. She hired another girl, and we became master donut makers as well as wedding cake bakers. And not normal run of the mill glazed donuts, either. Creations of decadent tastes and aromas drew customers from miles around, and by the time I returned home at night, I fell right into bed. Keaton, during his busy season, never made it home before midnight. We hardly ever found a spare moment to steal together.
We’d finally managed a single day off together and picnicked in the park across from our apartment building. My head nestled in his lap I stared up at him as he leaned against a tree watching a squirrel dart back and forth across the lawn in front of us.
“Hey,” he said softly, stroking my hair. “Let’s have a baby.”
“Your biological clock ticking down?” I pushed the panic down deep as it fought to escape, and my stomach rumbled in response.
“No, I just want us to have a baby.” He frowned. “Don’t you want babies?”
I shrugged. “We have time.” I grinned and sat up, facing him. “Are you trying to get me into the sack? Because, I’ll tell you now, I’m a sure thing.”
He smiled back, but it never quite reached his eyes. “I thought that if we had a baby, you would be home more, and we would be able to spend more time together.”
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