Nothing but a slow blow to my heart.
Trev’s dad looked as if he’d aged ten years since I had seen him. His skin was gray and his eyes, shit, his eyes were sunken, glassy, and so full of pain, I felt it like a physical blow.
As if he’d balled up those massive fists at his side and smashed them into my face.
For the longest time, he stared at me, those sad, angry, and haunted eyes pinning me hard. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Was he going to finally kick my ass? Would that somehow make him feel better?
Because I gotta tell you that if it would, I’d gladly let him beat me. I’d let him lay his hands on me and get whatever relief he could. Anything to make his pain go away.
He pushed off from the wall and walked toward us, his gait slow. He was a big man, intimidating to most with his shaved head, tattoos, and massive shoulders. Yet when I looked at him, I saw the guy who took Trevor and me fishing every Friday after school when we were ten. The guy who helped us build go-karts and who rushed me to the emergency room when I broke my arm after an epic crash.
I saw the guy who let us play our loud ass music ’til all hours of the evening and who would watch us, bobbing his head even though I knew he’d rather listen to Big & Rich.
I saw the guy whose heart I had shattered.
He stopped a few inches away, his sleeveless wife-beater stained down the front of his chest—coffee maybe—and it was wrinkled, like he’d slept in it or grabbed it off the floor to come here.
He rolled his shoulders, his eyes never leaving me, but there was no danger in his voice when he spoke. He just sounded really tired.
“You look like shit, Everets.”
I nodded. “I guess I do.”
Mike ran his hand along at least a week’s worth of stubble on his chin and his eyes slid to Monroe. “You again.”
Wait. What? When the hell had they met?
I looked at Monroe, but she faced Mike Lewis, legs spread, arms at the ready as if… Hell, she looked like she was willing to fight him if she had to. And if it was possible for my heart to squeeze even tighter, it did.
That’s what this girl did to me.
“Me again,” she said softly.
“Mr. Lewis, I was just telling them it was too late for visiting hours.” The nurse shifted on her feet, suddenly unsure.
Yeah, it was a long night, I got that, but I didn’t care that she was tired of my shit. I didn’t care about anything other than Trevor.
“I thought about what you said,” Mike said gruffly, his gaze still on Monroe. “You were right.”
I watched the two of them, not really understanding what was going on and wondering when the hell Monroe had hooked up with Trevor’s dad.
“Thank you,” Monroe said quietly.
“For what?” Mike answered.
“For being strong enough. For letting him in,” Monroe replied.
Mike nodded abruptly and asked, “Can I have a moment with Nathan?”
“Actually, I’ve got to go,” Monroe said softly.
My gaze swung from Trevor’s dad back to Monroe. “What? No.”
Dammit. I couldn’t do this without her.
I reached for her but she ducked away, shaking her head, her soft eyes wide, their paleness shimmering beneath the harsh lights overhead.
“This isn’t the place for me. Not right now.” She hunched her shoulders. “Go. See your friend. Be with Trevor.”
But I was shaking my head, suddenly so terrified my legs nearly buckled.
“You need to do this, Nathan, and when it’s done, whatever happens, I’ll be here for you.”
I reached for her and she came, sliding her arms around my waist so that I could hold her for as long as she would let me.
It was enough. Touching her was enough.
In that moment, I felt like I could do anything.
I brushed my lips against her forehead and leaned close to her ear. “I love you.”
Her hands clasped mine. “Ditto.”
And then she was gone.
“She’s special, that one,” Mike said softly.
I nodded and turned, making no effort to hide the pain and remorse and anything else that was inside me.
“Mr. Lewis,” I said, but he interrupted me.
“It’s Mike. It’s always been Mike.”
I had to clear my throat several times before I could speak again. I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes, and it took everything inside me to keep them away. In the end, it didn’t matter, and I scrubbed at my eyes and exhaled loudly.
I couldn’t remember a time when my body wasn’t tight. Couldn’t remember a time when there wasn’t pain. Sure, I knew it was back there—back before that night—but as I stood in front of Trevor’s dad, I thought that I would never remember what it was like before then, no matter how hard I tried.
“How is he?” I asked carefully, forcing the words out one at a time.
I held my breath, afraid I’d been too late and that my worst nightmare was about to become a reality.
Mike clasped me on the shoulders but I still couldn’t look up at him. I was too afraid. Too much of a coward. I felt his forgiveness. Felt it wrap around me like a spider’s web, and yet…
I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t deserve it and I wasn’t strong enough to face this reality if Trevor wasn’t going to be in it.
So I stared at my muddied boots and prayed like I’ve never prayed before.
“He’s still with us.”
The air whooshed out of me so quickly that if Mike’s hands hadn’t have been on me, I would have fallen on my ass.
“I brought his guitar, you know. Thought maybe music would help him fight this infection. Maybe music would bring him back, but…” He sucked in a breath and paused.
Slowly I looked up. “But?”
A sad smile touched his mouth. “I suck, remember? I only know a couple of chords, and G and C don’t really cut it.”
His smile widened and then he laughed. He laughed so hard that his body shook and his fingers dug into my shoulders painfully. I wasn’t sure if he was going crazy or if he was just so tired he didn’t know what he was doing.
He stopped abruptly and squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry, for the way I was after the accident. It was wrong to put all the blame on you and I…I have no excuse other than I was in a goddamn black hole and I needed someone to hit. It was you.” He cleared his throat. “There was only you.”
“It’s okay,” I said quietly.
And it was.
“Would you play for him? I mean, I think it might help. Maybe spark something inside him.”
I couldn’t answer. There was no way I was getting any words out. But I nodded. I nodded like a goddamn bobble head and followed Mike Lewis back down the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Monroe
I was dreaming about Malcolm. It was summer. Hot and humid with air so thick you could practically see it.
It was the kind of day when the pavement burned right through your sandals. The kind of day you’d spend hours running through the sprinklers at the water park. It was the kind of day when everything is slow and lethargic.
It was the kind of day when bad things happened.
I’d had this dream before, and it always ended the same. I lost Malcolm, there in the shadows, the deep ones that the sun didn’t seem able to find.
I lost him, and usually I heard him crying for me. For Mom. For Dad.
The sound drove me insane, but this time…this time there was no crying. For a while, there was nothing—I knew he was gone but there was just nothing.
Then I heard his laughter riding the air like bubbles falling over a waterfall. They were light, dancing in the air. Clear, round sparkles that filled my chest until I couldn’t breathe.