It feels like forever before my stomach is empty of the poison I fed it, and even then, a dozen dry heaves follow. Huffing, I strip my shirt from my body, using it to wipe the sweat from my face and head. I rinse my mouth out with half the water bottle I left on the seat, using the other half to force down some ibuprofen—something I learned to keep on hand after my first week of practice my freshman year at Avix.
Dropping my head against the headrest, my eyes close again, a pain I’ve never known burning its way along my bones, and it’s got nothing to do with the drumming of my temples.
A month ago, my life felt full for the very first time, imploding with a peacefulness I never knew existed. Twelve days ago, that peace was shattered, completely crushed as my girl was taken by ambulance to fight for her life, and unknowing at the time, our child’s. And last night, last night, my heart was obliterated, pulverized as I looked into the eyes of the most amazing person I have ever known, eyes that looked at me as if I was the prize, as if I was the most amazing thing in her world, only to find them rid of us.
Just like that, my world fell apart, and I don’t know that it can be put back together.
And that’s just too fucking much.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I replay every moment, from the first smile to the last laugh, and then I do it again.
I must pass out again after that, because the next time they open, it’s later. I don’t know by how much, I never did look at the time, but it must have been at least a couple hours as my vomit is dry in the dirt and the pounding in my head has gone from heavy metal to two-tone punk.
It’s beating up my temples, but it’s bearable now.
Lifting my phone from the seat, I check the missed calls and messages, but when neither my mom’s facility nor my girl’s name is among the dozens in red, I toss it.
Instead of heading home, I dip into what’s left of my financial aid from this past semester, and check into a hotel room, where I stay the next two days, repeating the one before it.
It doesn’t help, the distance or the distraction.
Every time my eyes open, reality rocks me to the core.
That’s the thing about alcohol. It’s a temporary fix, one that leads you more fucked up than before. And believe me, I am fucked up.
My mind, my body.
My future.
I clench my jaw, dropping back against the shower wall, holding my breath as the water rolls over my face.
What future?
I slap the wall, and then bang my forehead against it.
And then I fall to the fucking floor.
A hear the footsteps coming before his face pokes around the corner, and I’m almost humiliated enough to turn away.
Almost, but not quite.
The last thing I want is for the guy I’ve worked hand in hand in with all season, coaching him to be the next leader of my position, to see me with my head hung in a room that reeks of liquor, when the man he knows me to be has never once stood in front of him drunk.
But I’m not even standing.
I’m sitting on the floor of a shitty balcony at an overpriced hotel, my back flat against the wall.
“How did you find me?”
“Only four hotels within a five-minute drive from the hospital, knew I’d spot your truck at one of them.” He’s angry, rightfully so. “You need to come back to the hospital.”
Sighing, I drag myself to my feet, and move toward the edge of the banister. Crossing my arm over the cool metal, I lean forward, looking down at the empty playground. “You think I don’t want to be there? That this isn’t killing me? That I don’t feel like shit for walking out and leaving her there?” I glance at him over my shoulder. “Because I do.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“Did she ask for me?”
“Does she have to for you to know she needs you?”
Fuck.
His words are a sharp insult wrapped in glass, cutting as deep as he intended, because no. She doesn’t. That was part of the beauty of us. Her pain was mine as mine was hers. We never needed words to know the other was hurting… but she doesn’t remember that.
I face forward. “She doesn’t remember me, Mason.”
He says nothing for so long, I half expect he’s walked away, but when I turn around, he’s still standing in the same spot.
His lips press into a firm line. “I saw the message she sent you. The one from that night.”
My eyes narrow, small pricks drawing my shoulders up tight. “You read our private conversations?”
“No.” He stands tall, unapologetic. “I didn’t, but I would have if I felt like I needed to. What I did do was take her busted-up phone down to the store, got her a new one and had them flash everything from the old one over. Had to open it up to make sure it worked before they trashed it. Her message to you was the last thing she touched on that phone.”
My chest clenches as I stare at him.
“That’s why you came home that night.” He moves closer. “To come get her. To tell her you love her, too. Right? You love her too?”
Grinding my teeth, I go to push past him. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”
Mason slides in front of me, brows caved. He’s angry, but it’s more than that. The inability to protect the one person he’s spent his life protecting is eating him up.
I know the feeling.
The only two people I have ever had in my life I couldn’t protect.
Mason shakes his head, admitting, “I don’t know why, but in the back of my mind, I told myself my sister cared for you but being with you was her way of doing what she could to be happy while she secretly held on to something else.”
“You mean someone else. There’s no reason not to say his name.” I throw his hand off of me.
“So you do know everything that happened with her and him?”
“Why do you think I gave her space in the first place? Why do you think I pulled back?” I don’t give him time to answer. “It was because he suddenly realized what he was losing and knew he had to at least try. It took him months, years really, to see what I saw the minute I met her, and I can’t even fucking blame him, because the fifty-fifty chance is worth the risk if it ends with her in your arms.”
Mason expression twists. “But she chose you, you know that, so why the hell aren’t you at that hospital where you belong?”
“Because fate stepped in and showed his cards, and I’m not even in the deck, let alone at the bottom of it.”
His jaw ticks angrily, and I glance away.
“Do us both a favor and delete our message thread before you give her the new phone.”
“What, no.” His body tugs backward. “Fuck no. Why you acting like shit’s over? Like it’s done and her memory is gone and not coming back?”
I swallow, the possibility too damn real to stomach. “Maybe it is.”
“Don’t make me knock you out, man.” He glares, his fists clenching at his sides. “What the fuck’s the matter with you? My sister is lost right now, and you give up on her? What kind of shit—”
I’ve got him by the collar, his back slammed against the wall behind us in a split second.
“I will never give up on her.” My body shakes. “Ever.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing getting trashed while she’s barely able to fucking breathe?” he seethes.
“I don’t know!” I admit, the muscles in my neck straining. I tear away from him, running my hands on top of my head until I’m gripping my hair. “I don’t fucking know what I’m doing, man. I don’t know shit. I’m fucking terrified that if I go into that room, I might to do or say something that’ll only make this harder on her, hurt her more, and I couldn’t handle that.”
“You think I’m not?” he rasps, and I bring my eyes back to his. “Trust me, I am, we all are, but she needs… I don’t know what she needs, but it ain’t me. Ain’t Cam or the others. It’s got to be you, man. It has to be.”
Sha
king my head, I step around him into the room, his shadow following. “She doesn’t remember us, Mason.”
“I know that.”
“Yeah?” I drop onto the edge of the bed, looking up at him. “Do you know how to tell a woman who thinks she’s only ever been with one man, that you are the father of the child she lost?”
As if he hadn’t paused to consider this side of things, my side, the shitty, helpless fucking side, his muscles go limp and he falls into the chair across from me. Mason drops his head back, staring up at the ceiling in defeat, because he gets it now. He knows what I know.
That you can’t.
You. Just. Fucking. Can’t.
Chapter 41
Noah
* * *
A little over twenty minutes of my sitting beside her bedside passes before her eyes begin to flutter open, and I force as much of a smile as I can muster.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Honey, you should have woken me.” She places her palm over mine, and as she gets a better look at me, her face falls. “Noah, no. Is Ari… did she not make —”
“No, no, she’s okay.” I shake my head, my voice hoarse and thick with exhaustion.
“Noah?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, looking away as my eyes begin to cloud.
Outside of being a young boy, my mom has only seen me cry once, and that was the day I came here to tell her about Ari’s accident.
In the eleven days Ari was out, I wouldn’t leave the hospital, but when the doc would make his rounds, asking us to clear the room while he and the nurse ran through her vitals, I’d run over here to see my mom, something I could never do during the football season, and thank fucking god for those few minutes I was forced to step away from my baby’s bedside. If I didn’t have that little time with my mom, I’m not sure what I would have done.
It might have only been for twenty or so minutes at a time, less on days she herself would get too anxious and tell me to hurry back to my girl, but it was the only thing that kept me sane.
But I don’t feel sane anymore.
My mom squeezes my hand, and I drop my chin to my chest, pulling in a full breath.
“She doesn’t remember me, Mom.” I look to her, her face blurry from the mess my eyes threaten to make. “She woke up, but she woke to a world I wasn’t a part of.”
My mom’s shaky inhale has me swallowing, trying to be a soldier for her sake, like she always does for me, but I can’t find a drop of inner strength inside me, and the look in my mom’s eyes says I don’t have to.
“Come here, baby.” She tugs on my hand, and I allow my body to fall against hers.
Her hand rubs along my back, and I hate that I’ve come here like this, that I’ve pulled her into my nightmare, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.
I close my eyes, reminding myself I’m lucky I’m not alone in life, that I need to be grateful for the things I have, but my mind fights back, screaming for me to shut the fuck up.
That I am alone.
That I do have nothing.
Because what will my life be without Arianna Johnson?
Empty, that’s what.
Ari
* * *
“I think I want to know,” I admit, and Mason’s anxious gaze finds me.
He steps around the doctor, coming to stand near Cameron on my opposite side. They share a look, both facing me.
“Ari,” Mason grasps my hand as he drops onto the bed beside me, a torn expression carved along his face. “You sure that’s a good idea? The doc just said—”
“That it could be triggering or traumatic, I know, I was listening, but what do you think waking up and realizing your mind is stuck in July feels like?” Proof of my botched emotions warms my cheeks, and Mason’s grip tightens. “I need to know why everyone is looking at me like I’m not even me. Did my life really change that much in one semester?”
Mason looks down, his eyes glossy when they finally rise to mine.
“Why don’t we pause on that a moment okay,” Dr. Brian intervenes. “And get back to understanding where we are. Does that sound all right with you?”
Mason waits until I nod to face forward.
“Okay, as you said, the last thing you remember is leaving the beach, correct?”
An anxiousness pulls at me, but I clear my throat. “Yeah. We spent the end of summer at our beach house, but I left a little earlier than planned. I remember leaving, but I don’t remember the drive or getting back to my house.”
“You mentioned bright lights?”
I close my eyes, thinking back.
It was nighttime when I stepped out of the door, my dad’s truck waiting for me to climb inside for the trip home. I crossed the roadway, and I saw a truck parked a few ways down. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it might have been Chase. Before I could get a better look, the headlights flicked on. I lifted my arm, trying to see past the shine, but it didn’t help.
The brightness blinded me.
And then… darkness.
“It, um, it was headlights. I was crossing the street, and they flicked on, shined right into my eyes.”
The doctor nods, looking to Mason when he speaks.
“Just like that night.” He frowns, looking to the doctor. “It’s almost the same. She was crossing the street, and then the truck came. She looked, but” —he swallows— “it was too late.”
My heartbeat spikes slightly, and I wince as I attempt to drag in a full breath.
Dr. Brian, folds his clipboard in front of him, tipping his head slightly. “Arianna, did something happen that night? The night you do remember?”
Panic washes over me, and while I’m not sure if it shows, the monitors I’m hooked up to give me away.
Mason’s posture stiffens, and Cameron’s palm finds my upper arm, afraid I’m going to have another panic attack.
“Hey, hey, calm down,” Mase rushes out, and when I look into my brother’s eyes, finding his soft ones on mine, I take a breath. “I already know,” he says quietly.
Nodding, I hold his gaze. “You do?”
“Yeah, sister, I know about you and Chase. Maybe not every little thing, probably not every little thing, but I do know the big stuff. I know…” He looks to the doctor briefly, swallowing hard as he brings his attention back to me. “I know he hurt you, maybe even… broke your heart.” His brows pull into a frown.
The urge to cry out creeps over me, so I squash my lips to the side, because his tone, it’s telling, as is the sorrow in his eyes.
“Mase…”
He understands, shaking his head as he hangs it.
Chase hurt me, broke my heart, and this is Mason’s way of telling me his best friend didn’t put the pieces back together.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I nod again, salty tears falling into the corners of my mouth.
“Arianna,” the doctor eases. “Is that the way you remember that night?”
Nodding, I force myself to look at him. “Yeah. It was a rough day.” To put it lightly.
He nods, flipping a few pages and reading over something in my file. He closes it and faces me once more.
“Oftentimes, in amnesia cases like this, the brain will link trauma to trauma, and I believe that is what we are dealing with here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s sort of as I explained to you about why we had to place you in a coma. Your injuries caused you a great deal of pain, and your brain was at risk of shutting down because of it. What we are facing now is the same idea but related to memory instead. You experienced trauma, and your brain connected it to past trauma, erasing the time in-between.”
My throat runs dry, my legs prickling. “I don’t think I’m following. What trauma? New trauma?”
What could have possibly happened to me that ached like that night did?
Was it about the baby?
Had I already lost it?
My sniffles grow choppier, and it doesn’t take long before my chest is
sputtering, the movement creating an ache through my entire upper body, reminding me of my wounds on the outside, but it’s nothing compared to the pain within.
I was going to be a mom, something I’ve always dreamed of, but imagined would happen later in life. It was the only thing I was certain of, the one thing I wanted more than anything else, and I can’t even remember if I knew about the little blessing before I lost him.
A good mother would remember that no matter what.
Wouldn’t she?
Dr. Brian says something, but I have no idea what and then he walks out.
My eyes close.
I was told I was only seven weeks pregnant, not far along enough to know the sex… and not far along enough to have gotten pregnant over the summer.
That means Chase wasn’t the father, that’s what my brother shared.
Unless we found each other again and nobody knew it?
He would have come to me when I cried, held me and cried with me if that were true, wouldn’t he have?
My body racks with silent sobs, and when I force my eyes open, my brother’s find mine.
He hesitates a moment, and I curl my toes in my socks, anxious. “Ari—”
He’s cut off when there’s a soft rap against the wall.
All our heads snap toward the door, and my stomach drops at the sight.
Broken blue eyes flash in my mind, and my hand twitches, remembering the feel of the one that held mine the day my eyes opened in this room.
Juliet, open your eyes…
My brows cave as I look him over.
Dark hair tousled, eyes a deep, depthless blue.
It’s the guy I met this summer. The guy from the beach.
A friend of my brother’s.
A friend of mine?
“Noah,” I don’t mean to say out loud, but it slips from my lips.
My brother jerks beside me, and a choppy exhale pours from Noah’s lips.
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