“Not that.” Finally, he looks over at me, but I don’t see any sort of affection, just a distant stare. “You went to Wyatt.”
“Huh?”
“I wanted to hold you and talk to you, but you walked away from me. You went straight to Wyatt. My heart was fucking breaking right along with yours and you walked into that prick’s arms.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. That wasn’t it at all … was it? “I’m sorry, I wasn’t tryi—”
“You should’ve walked into my arms. You should’ve let me hold you and comfort you because I’m your fucking boyfriend, Katie. I’m the one that has to say goodbye to the one person that keeps me anchored to this fucking earth. Do you honestly think I want to move with her? Do you honestly think I wouldn’t choose you in a heartbeat?”
The tight band around my heart pops and I lurch forward, gripping his face in my hands. “You’re right. I was wrong … so wrong.” My nose burns with tears, and they quickly build and then fall from my eyes. “Please forgive me,” I beg. Guilt churns in my stomach, knotting it up. I can’t believe I acted like that. What the hell was I thinking? I can’t push him away, and I definitely can’t lose him.
Needing to be close to him, I climb over the gearshift and straddle his hips. Pushing my hands through his hair, I pull him toward me until we’re nose to nose. “Tell me you know how much I love you and that you know how sorry I am for earlier. Tell me you know that I will find a way to make this work.”
Swallowing hard, Devin’s eyes penetrate mine. They’re glistening under the dull light of the moon shining through the window. “I know you love me, and I know you’re sorry. Trust me, I had nearly the same reaction when Mom told me. I didn’t handle it well at all.” I can see in his eyes that he’s being sincere. That’s one thing about Devin and me; we’ve been friends for so long that I can read him like a book. “And I know we’ll find a way to make it work, because there isn’t another option.”
All the breath is robbed from my lungs when he says what my heart feels. There really isn’t any other option. Devin and I are meant to be together.
January 2006
(Ten Years Later)
“Gone Too Soon” – Simple Plan
“WHEN IS SHE GOING TO wake up?” The strangled voice of a woman rings loudly in my ears, and the thick fog surrounding me slowly dissipates. “I need her to wake up.” This time the broken voice is much clearer and I instantly recognize it. Mom?
A shiver of fear runs through my body and I fight to move, but something or someone seems to be holding me down. Why are you crying? Mom!
“All of her scans came back normal. She’ll wake up, Mrs. Devora, I assure you. She’s been through a traumatic experience and her body is allowing itself time to heal.” I’m not sure who that voice belongs to, but the foreign accent sounds oddly familiar. And what the hell does he mean I’ve been through a traumatic experience?
“You keep saying that, but she keeps sleeping. I’ve already lost so much, Dr. Cantrell … I can’t lose her too.” Wait, what is she talking about? Where am I, and why the hell won’t my eyes open?
Darkness slowly starts to creep in around me, and before I even have a chance to struggle against it, I’m whisked into unconsciousness …
My entire body feels heavy and weak. I try to turn my head, but a sharp pain pierces the side of my temple. I whimper but nothing comes out … no sound at all. What the hell is going on? Why can’t I move? How long have I been asleep?
“Go home, Wyatt, get some rest. I’ll call you if she wakes up.” Mom’s voice floats through the air seconds before I feel a warm hand—presumably hers—stroke the side of my head.
“I’m not leaving her. I won’t leave her.” Wyatt’s voice sounds unyielding yet strained, and when it cracks, I frantically push against the darkness that seems to have taken control of my body. Wyatt! Oh, Wyatt.
I concentrate hard, desperately trying to make a sound or move my fingers, but nothing happens. I growl in frustration—at least I try to.
“Honey, you have to be exhausted. You’ve been working so hard and spending every spare second here. You need to get a good night’s sleep.” No! Don’t leave. Please don’t leave!
Somewhere in the midst of my struggles, I hear a chair being slid across the floor and then two warm hands wrap around my right hand, drawing it upward. I’m intimately familiar with those hands and his touch alone seems to calm the panic that had been bubbling inside of me—for now, anyway. “Brenda, I’m not leaving until she leaves with me...” Wyatt’s voice trails off, along with my mind, as I’m sucked back into the shadows of the unknown.
A soft hum drifts through the air. This whole in and out and not being able to move is frustrating the hell out of me, but this time I’m too exhausted to try. The humming continues, and with a touch so gentle that I barely feel it, my fingers are lifted off the bed and entwined with someone else’s. The hand is soft and delicate, and I instantly know by the size and lack of calluses that it doesn’t belong to Wyatt.
The muffled voice that first woke me up gets clearer and clearer. I try hard not to fight against the wall that’s holding me captive, instead hoping that if I stay relaxed, it will lift on its own. I envision myself taking a deep, cleansing breath as my mind follows the voice. “Wake up, sweetheart,” she says in between humming her sweet tune. “Please wake up.”
I’m trying, Mom. I promise you, I’m trying.
Her silky voice starts singing the same song she sang to me when I’d get sick as a child. The words are like a balm for my soul—so sweet and comforting that I allow myself to get lost in them.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine—” Her words cut off and everything around me goes eerily still and quiet.
What is she doing? Why did she stop singing?
“Do it again, Katie,” Mom says with a hint of a smile in her voice. “Move your fingers for me.”
I moved my fingers? Really?
“That’s it, Katie.” Mom’s voice is joyfully high, and I picture her jumping up and down, cheering like she used to do at my softball games. I hear a sequence of loud, solid beeps at the same time I feel my heart pound violently inside my chest. A steady ‘woosh-woosh-woosh’ pulses behind my ears.
Something is happening. I’m not sure what—and I sure as hell don’t have any control over it—but despite the urgent desire to try and move, I stay perfectly calm.
And then I feel it … a twitch, followed by another twitch … and another.
I hear the door open and then someone starts talking, but I’m too absorbed in the feeling of these little spasms taking place throughout my body to pay too much attention to the conversation. Out of nowhere, my eyelids get yanked open and I cringe when a bright light shines in my face. A garbled moan falls from my mouth, and I can tell by the burning pain ripping through my throat that an actual sound is coming out.
“Katie!” my mom squeals. “She’s awake! She’s moving!”
My eyelids feel heavy and weak, and each time I try to crack them open, the light in the room blinds me. Someone must notice because the next time I try to open them, the light is turned off, which makes it so much easier. I blink several times, and the blurry figure in front of me slowly comes into focus. “Mo-om,” I croak.
“Oh, Katie.” She buries her face into the side of my neck. Without thinking, I lift my arm. It’s heavy and sore, but I manage to drape it awkwardly over her shoulder as she cries. “I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you too.” Her words barely have time to register before my arm slips from her back and my eyelids drift shut, and despite my best effort, I can’t get them to open back up. “Katie?”