by Farlow, LK
Zach smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Because he didn't see the look on your face when that video came on for everyone to see. He didn't see how utterly devastated you were. I did. A man doesn't fake a look like that, especially when he doesn't have an audience. Now, what happened?"
"Overdose."
"Damn. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's about to get worse."
I sit upright in my seat. "Why? What do you know?"
"Nothing. It's just... one of us has to call Stella."
"Shit. Not me!" Gabe says. "There's no way I can break my sunshine's heart."
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose and then pull my phone from my pocket. "I'll do it," I say, dialing her number.
"Hey, Sterling?"
"Yeah, it's me."
"What's going on?"
"Listen, have you gotten any weird texts tonight?"
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"Did you look at it?"
"No. It came during dinner, and Mom hates phones at the table. Plus, I typically ignore unfamiliar numbers. Why?"
"Okay, good." A fraction of the weight on my chest eases. At least Stella didn't see the video with her own two eyes.
"You're freaking me out."
"There was an accident."
"What kind of accident?" she asks, a wobble to her voice.
"Emmalyn overdosed." The words sound as unfathomable and foreign now as they did the first time I said them.
"What? Wait, what?"
"We don't know anything yet. We're at Central North."
"I'm on my way," she says and the line goes dead.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and lean my head back against the wall, wondering how tonight went so sideways.
Rob. It all comes back to Rob.
While I'm not exactly spotless, he's the real reason we're here. He's utterly unhinged and is in need of some serious help.
With the way money talks, I doubt he'll ever see any jail time, but I'm damn sure going to push for him to face the consequences of his actions to the fullest extent possible. Be that from a rehab facility, or monetarily, he will pay.
Fifteen minutes later Stella, along with a man I don't know, bursts into the waiting area. "Have you heard from the doctor?"
"Not yet," Gabe says.
Her friend takes a seat but she begins pacing anxiously in front of the row of chairs we've claimed as our own.
Back and forth she paces, well as best she can her walking boot, until the man she brought with her reaches out and grabs her by the shoulder and forcibly seats her down onto his lap.
"Let me up!" She struggles against his hold.
"Sit down, Luna."
"So help me God, if you don't let me up right now—!"
He bands his arms around her, making an X over her chest. "You'll what?"
Before she can reply, a man in a white coat walks out from the double doors behind the desk. He's heading straight for us, and I stand so quickly my chair rattles. "Are you the family of Emmalyn Price?"
"I'm her husband," I say, the lie falling smoothly from my lips.
He nods. "Come with me please."
I follow behind him, back through the double doors he came out of, down a hall and around a corner, finally stopping outside of a closed door. "How is she?" I ask, unable to wait for him to speak first.
"Stable. We administered charcoal, and she's now stable."
"Is she awake?"
"Sleeping."
"Can I see her?"
"I'd like to ask you a few questions first."
"Yeah." The hope that was growing within me turns to ash. "Of course."
"Does she have any history of mental illness? Has she ever attempted suicide before?"
"Yes, and no." My heart aches for her, knowing she's lying in that bed, alone. What if she wakes up and there's no one with her?
"Elaborate, please."
"She was abused, for years, by a family member," I tell him, proceeding to give him all of the pertinent details. "So, can I see her now?" My voice cracks, but fuck if I have it in me to care.
"Yes, just one last thing."
"What?"
"Once we have a room for her, we will be moving her upstairs and placing her on an involuntary psych hold."
"Seventy-two hours, yeah, I figured."
The doctor eyes me speculatively. "I TA a psych class and she's a psych major."
"Got it." He pushes the door open. "You're welcome to stay with her until they take her upstairs."
"Thanks." I swallow roughly and head into the room.
I pause at the foot of her bed, the sight of her lying there, looking so small and fragile, hooked up to a plethora of monitors and wires, hits me harder than finding her on her bathroom floor.
As gently as possible, I take her hand in mine, careful not to bump the IV line. "Oh, God, baby. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
She stirs, humming under her breath, but she doesn't wake.
"I love you, Emmalyn. I know I messed up. God, do I. I was supposed to protect you and now look." I shake my head, disgusted at myself for not working harder to keep her safe.
I've known Rob practically forever. I, better than anyone, know what he's capable of. I should have seen this coming.
"I'm going to fix this. I know, I know. I've said that before. But this time, I'll fix this or die trying. I love you, Emmy. Today, tomorrow, and always. And I'll work tirelessly to prove it to you."
I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, inhaling her scent, before pulling away, content to sit with her until they force me to leave.
Chapter Forty-Two
Emmy
Consciousness filters in bit by bit, slowly waking me from the deepest sleep of my life.
I groan as I try to shift to a more comfortable position. There's a rhythmic beeping filling the room, and the sound is an affront to my already pounding head.
Where the hell am I? I wonder to myself as I try to open my eyes. The room is so bright, it's like looking into the sun. I whimper and immediately snap my lids closed.
"Are you awake?" someone, a man, asks.
I mumble some incoherent reply.
"Let me see if we can dim some of these lights." I hear him shuffle around the room and try to take stock of my body as he does. "Okay, try again."
Slowly, I blink my eyes open, and while it's still an adjustment, it's easier than it was the first time.
"Sterling." An odd feeling vibrates in my chest as I whisper his name, but I don't know why. "Where are we? What...what happened?"
"You don't remember?" he asks, his brow dipping in concern.
Little tidbits trickle in, falling like raindrops, slowly watering my brain with the missing pieces. "We were at a party."
He swallows roughly and nods.
The memories rain down a little harder, until finally, a full-on tsunami is taking place inside the dome of my skull.
Sex tape.
Sterling lied.
Pills.
These fragments come together, flashing through my mind like lightning. But the one that hurts the most is knowing the man seated beside my bed played a part in it all.
"Why are you here?" I croak, refusing to look at him.
"Little mouse, I'm so sorry."
"Don't call me that." I sniffle. "I want you to leave."
"I can't do that."
"I don't want you here." Tears gather behind my lashes; I don't bother to try to stop them from falling. "Please go."
"Baby," he says, right as a scrub-clad nurse walks into the room.
"Glad to see you're awake, Mrs. Price. How are you feeling?"
"Peachy," I deadpan.
"Good to see your sense of humor is intact. Let's see what's what." She pushes a rolling trolley in front of her, stopping at the side of my bed. After checking my vitals, she asks, "Do you know where you are?"
"Obviously in the hospital."
"Correct. You're actually in the intensive care unit.
Do you know why?"
"Yes," I whisper. "Yes, I know."
She gives me a sympathetic look. "Do you know what day it is?"
"Saturday, right?"
"Almost Sunday. What year is it?"
I huff and rattle off the four digits she wants to hear.
"Great. How's your pain?"
"Everything hurts."
"I can get you some Tylenol…"
"No, thank you. I just... can I have some water please?"
"Very small sips." She nods as she passes me a cup with a straw.
Sterling rushes to help me sit up and I flinch ever so slightly, shying away from him. "Please don't touch me.”
He looks crestfallen, and I don't understand why. He should be happy...
This is what he wanted, after all. Or maybe he's just upset that I pulled through.
He looks helplessly from me to the nurse, and she gives him a sad smile. "This is normal, sweetie. She'll come around."
"I want him to leave."
"Oh, hun, your husband hasn't left your side since you got here. Why don't you try and get some rest," she says, dismissing me. "The doctor will be in to see you shortly."
I lie back against the flimsy pillow, shifting in search of a comfortable position, but it's no use.
"Emmy, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Sorry for what? Sorry I'm still here?"
"What? No!" He paces at the foot of my bed, tugging on the ends of his hair before turning to me. "God, when I found you on your bathroom floor, I thought…” He looks tortured, absolutely anguished, but how do I know he means it? Sterling's nothing if not a good liar, and my brain is far too foggy to make heads or tails of him right now.
" I didn't protect you! I'm sorry I didn't see what was coming. That I didn't prevent this. God, I could have fucking prevented this. I should have known when he came by—"
"When who came by?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Rob."
Those three letters, that single syllable, rob me of my breath. It takes me a minute to ask, "When? That night you called me and were acting weird?"
He nods, his cheeks burning with something akin to shame. "Yeah."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought I handled it. I thought I was keeping you safe." He laughs brokenly. "I fucked up. God, baby, I'm sorry."
I try to shrug, but my shoulder only lifts a fraction of an inch. It feels like someone beat me with a baseball bat and left me for dead. "You really expect me to believe you had nothing to do with this?"
He pinches his eyes shut and tips his head back. "You have every reason to believe I’m guilty, but I wasn't, and I'm gonna do everything in my power to prove it to you. I'm going to make those responsible pay."
Sterling lowers his gaze, locking his eyes onto mine. "I'm calling every favor I'm owed. Rob will not get away with this. He won't."
He sounds so sincere, so broken, but still, I'm hesitant to believe him. I mean, he lied about Rob stopping by, how do I know he isn’t lying to me now as well?
"Why do they think you're my husband?"
He offers a sheepish smile. "Only immediate family can come back here."
I try to nod, but the motion makes my head swim. "Do you want some more water?"
"Sure."
He crosses the room, and picks up my cup, guiding the straw to my lips. "I know you don't believe me, but I love you, and I'm gonna fix this."
He truly is distraught looking, with his rumpled clothes, pale face, and tired eyes. My heart wants so badly to believe him, but my brain knows I'm not ready to make those kinds of decisions.
I swallow and turn my head, looking away from him. A lone tear falls as I ask, "Why is it every time you try to fix things, they seem to get worse?”
I can tell Sterling wants to say something, to defend himself, to plead his case. The pulsing of his clenched jaw is a dead giveaway. But he doesn’t. Instead, he retreats back to his chair beside my bed.
The silence between us is thick and awkward, but before either of us can make a move, there’s a knock.
“Come in,” I say, bringing a hand to my throat; even speaking hurts.
"Mrs. Price, it's so nice to see you awake and alert. How are you feeling?"
"Like I tried to die."
The doctor hums thoughtfully under her breath. "Indeed you did." She checks something on the stationary computer in the corner of the room before coming to stand beside my bed. "Is this the first time you've tried to take your own life?"
"Yes."
"Do you regularly have suicidal thoughts?" The weight of her words and their implication are almost too much for me to bear. If Sterling wouldn't have found me, I really might have died. The thought is as sobering as it is terrifying.
Still, it feels so weird to talk about this in front of Sterling, but they all think he's my husband, so of course, no one bats an eye.
"I've, um... I've thought about it before, but this was the first time I've ever tried anything."
"I see. Your husband told me a little bit about your past and the abuse you suffered. Given your circumstances, we're going to place you on a seventy-two-hour hold."
Shame and regret and a little bit of panic race through me as my eyes move from the doctor to Sterling. "You talked to people about me?"
"Your husband wanted to make sure you received the best care possible. Now you can enter the hold on your own volition or I can mandate it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I nod.
"The choice is yours."
"Not much of a choice," I muse. "Go to the psych ward by choice or go by force."
She offers a sympathetic smile.
"It's fine."
"So, you're agreeing to go?"
I lift one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Sure."
"Now, I have to ask, do you still feel like harming yourself, Mrs. Price?"
"No. No, I just want to sleep."
She nods thoughtfully. "I'll get the ball rolling on that and we'll get you moved shortly. If you need anything at all, just press the call button and until then enjoy some time with your husband."
It's on the tip of my tongue to shout that he's not my husband, but I don't have the energy to fight this or anything else. Hell, I barely have the energy to keep my eyes open.
* * *
"You all ready to head home, honey?" Kelsey, my favorite nurse, asks.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
She smiles warmly. "That's the right attitude to have! The paperwork's all signed, we're just waiting on your ride." She checks her watch. "That husband of yours should up any second."
I lift my lips in some semblance of a smile at the mention of my husband. I've had a lot of time over the last three days to think—and talk—about everything that happened.
I see some things a little more clearly, but I have questions about a lot of things, too.
But... I'm fairly certain that Sterling wasn't involved. Sure, he's not perfect, but I don't believe he was plotting against me either.
I'm actually of the belief that someone set him up. And I know that someone is Rob.
All the way down to the deepest depths of my soul, I know it.
If nothing else, I guess Sterling and I at least have one thing to talk about on the drive back to my dorm.
"He brought some clothes by a little earlier so you'd have something to wear home."
"Oh, that's nice." I want to smile, but I don't have the energy.
"He's called to check on you multiple times every day." Her tone implies just how swoony she thinks that is.
Me, though? I'm not sure how I feel about it.
"So I've been told."
"You must be so excited to see him!"
"Ecstatic."
She smiles again. "I'll step out and let you get changed. I'm sure you don't want to wait any longer than you have to."
I grab the bag she left on the chair and dump it on the bed, inspecting the contents.
He g
rabbed all of the essentials, including my favorite sweatshirt. For some reason, the thought of him riffling through my panty drawer gives me pause. It's silly, given our level of physical intimacy, but still.
Five minutes later, Kelsey sticks her head back into the room. "He's here."
"Like, here-here?" I ask, tipping my head in her direction.
"Waiting right outside of the unit." She pushes the door all the way open. "Come on, I'll walk you out."
"Thanks."
Apprehension builds inside of me with every step toward the double-doors leading to my freedom. Or maybe it's seeing Sterling that has my heart rioting in my chest.
Either way, I guess I'm about to find out.
We pause in front of the doors, and Kelsey turns to me. "Take care of yourself, hun."
"I will. Thanks."
She nods. "Your discharge paperwork has a few options listed for continued treatment. I really hope you'll consider it."
My eyes burn, but I blink back the tears. "I will."
"Good. Glad to hear it." She presses the buzzer on the wall and the doors swing open.
My eyes land on Sterling immediately. He looks as nervous as I feel.
Deciding to offer an olive branch, I lift my hand in a silly wave. "Hey, Ster."
He's as still as a statue as he takes me in.
"So, you, um...you ready to take me home?"
At that, he springs into action. "Yeah. Yes." He steps forward as if he's going to reach for me, but draws up short, awkwardly stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Let's go."
There's this tension between us, an awkwardness. It's as if a rift the size of an ocean has suddenly opened, and we’re each standing on opposite sides.
"You look good, Ster," I say, biting my lip.
"Thanks."
I drop my eyes to my feet and move toward him as an awkward silence settles over us.
It's weird. Neither of us seem to know what to say or how to act.
Gone is the confident-to-the-point-of-cocky man I fell in love with and in his place is this unsure replica. He looks like my Sterling, but doesn't act like him. And I worry it's my fault.
"I parked out front."
"Great."
Neither of us speak again until we're a few miles down the road, when I say, "I want you to know, I realize you didn't have anything to do with...everything. I know that now."