Perfect (Holt Brothers Book 1)

by Leila Lucas

  I really miss you.

  As per routine, I take his hand, lean back on my chair, and shut my eyes.

  DYLAN

  “Only you can call me Dill-Pickle,” I say. Or so I think. It’s what I intended it to be, but it came out as gibberish.

  CHLOE

  I smile.

  Wait.

  What?

  I jump out of my chair.

  “Dylan?”

  Shit.

  “Dylan? Did you just say something?”

  I don’t know if I fell asleep and dreamed it, but it felt so real. My hands are shaking, but I put my fingers around his.

  “If you can hear me, squeeze my fingers. You don’t have to talk again.”

  I stare at our hands. It feels like forever but nothing happens.

  Still nothing.

  “Pickle.” It was hard to understand because he was breathing so heavily and mumbling, but I knew he definitely spoke and it wasn’t just my imagination.

  I franticly press the nurse call button as tears run down my face, never letting go of his hand. Within seconds two nurses run in.

  “He spoke. He…” My crying is uncontrollable now and the nurses walk over to Dylan. One rushes out to call a doctor.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Holt.” She checks his chart.

  “I’ll be back. I’m going to call your parents and Ben, okay?” As much as I don’t ever want to leave his side I have to run out to call his family. He lightly squeezes my finger.

  My hand is still shaking like crazy as I try calling Ben.

  He picks up almost immediately, obviously having trouble sleeping since most people wouldn’t be awake at four in the morning.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s awake, Ben. He’s awake.”

  “Fuck. Really?” I can hear a door slam followed by knocking a while after.

  “He spoke, the doctor is coming soon.” I wipe my tears with my sleeve.

  “He’s awake. Get up. He’s awake,” he yells at his parents. “Be there in ten.” He hangs up before I have time to respond.

  They run into the room in exactly ten minutes. Before I asked how they managed to be here so quickly I realized they’re all still in their pajamas, covered in robes. Ben has bed hair and his usual jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt on.

  “Be gentle, his throat and head would be extremely sore at this time. Doctor Simmons will be in here soon, so have him avoid speaking as much as possible.” The two nurses walk out.

  We all sit around Dylan. Roy and Susan talk to him about some random things. Dylan smiles and nods, but he looks like he just wants to go back to sleep.

  “Welcome back, kiddo.” A middle-aged man comes in dressed in a white coat. “Glad to hear you’re back with us again. We’re just going to check up on you now and then we’ll be taking you in for a scan and a few tests so we know where to go from here.” He looks at all of us. “Once we take Dylan away for his scans I suggest all of you go home and have a good rest.” He glances at Roy’s and Susan’s robes. “By the time you come back he should be well rested and more aware of his surroundings. We can’t exhaust him too fast.”

  We all nod in agreement. I’d rather just stay here with him, but I think having us all talk at the same time would be too much for him right away.

  A nurse lifts Dylan’s blanket off his feet and runs a pen up and down his sole and he jerks his feet. “Dylan, can you wriggle your right fingers for me, please?”

  I go to move my hand from under his, but he just taps my wrist with his fingers.

  “Nice work.” She beams at him like he just did the most amazing thing ever and he responds with a thumbs-up. “And your left fingers now.”

  Dylan keeps his eyes locked on mine.

  “And again.”

  I move my gaze from his eyes to his left hand.

  “I’ll be back soon to remove some of the tubes, make you a little more comfortable.”

  Dylan’s left fingers didn’t move.

  Chapter Nineteen

  CHLOE

  “I’m going to be in the kitchen. I’ve got some editing to do. Call out if you need anything.” I pass him the remote and close the bedroom door. Susan and Roy revamped his bedroom to make him more comfortable. Huge TV, mini fridge for water and small snacks, thick curtains, and an adjustable bed. At first I thought it was a great idea. He could rest and have everything he needed without having to get out of bed. But that just turned into never seeing him except when he needed something from the main fridge or bathroom trips.

  It’s hard working from here with Dylan constantly on my mind. He doesn’t bother me or ask for anything, but I have the need to constantly check up on him and Google his symptoms and progress. It’s unhealthy, but I can’t help it. Luckily I had my deadline extended by a few weeks so I could be with Dylan for as long as possible. But my new deadline is creeping up and I’m expecting a lot of very late nights. I get lost in my work when Dylan startles me by opening the door.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” He smiles.

  “Just getting some work done.” When he realized he was forgetting things often it made him really annoyed, so now we just work around it by pretending we didn’t just have the same conversation. The doctor said it was okay to do for now because his memory loss was just a short-term issue. Or so we hope.

  “Want help?” I watch him try to open the jar of peanut butter, but his fingers aren’t gripping the lid at all. The doctor said he has fairly minimal use of his hand, but it will most likely improve overtime with physical therapy. He doesn’t reply, so I get up and walk toward him.

  “I got it.” He switches hands but still can’t get a grip on the jar and it falls on the tiles.

  I pick it up, open it, and hand it back to him.

  “Thanks, stupid slippery hands.” He grabs a spoon and goes back to the bedroom with the jar. It’s been two weeks and he hasn’t yet acknowledged the issues with his left hand. He never brings up the accident or anything to do with his injuries. He’s in complete denial that anything is wrong, but Roy said it’s a very normal reaction for some patients and that it’ll pass over time. I feel like time is the solution to everything in this situation, yet he seems like a ticking time bomb to me. How much pain and frustration can a person hold in before it builds up?

  “You call us if you need anything,” Roy says as he gets into the car. It was nice having them stay with us and help out because Ben and I wouldn’t be able to handle it on our own. Turns out a person can hold in a lot of stuff, because now it’s been two months and nothing changed. Dylan still acts as if he can do everything and when he can’t he retreats into his room to watch Netflix. The guys have come over a couple of times and watched a few games with him, but that’s as far as socializing has gone. Aside from doctors’ appointments and physical therapy Dylan hasn’t left the house. He refuses to go for short walks or practice using his hand, both of which he lies about to the therapist when asked. Thankfully his parents stayed here, so the place was always full and I always had someone to talk to, which made the days easier. But now it’s just us two and I’m nervous. His parents left and Ben’s always practicing, so he’s home only when he needs sleep. He’ll have nobody to take it out on, except for me. It was hard enough watching him do it to his parents, not entirely sure how I will handle it when it starts happening to me.

  I see Dylan in the lounge, so I join him.

  “Do you want to do anything today?” I already know the answer, but I’m hoping one day he’ll say yes.

  “No. I have a headache.” Same response every time.

  “Did you take your meds for the day?”

  He nods. I didn’t miss the slight eye roll.

  After fifteen minutes of eating in silence like we’re complete strangers he packs up his dishes and goes to the kitchen. Not long after I hear something break and run toward him. A glass and juice is all over the floor. Dylan is on his knees and has his head in his hands and his eyes shut tightly.

 
“Shit!” I kneel next to him, avoiding the shattered glass.

  “Headache again?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  He pretty much never does.

  Fortunately the sharp pains don’t come by frequently, but they restrict him from doing basic things like driving, cooking or just being home by himself. I help him up and guide him into the lounge room then I clean up the mess so we don’t add another injury to the already-long list. By the time I finish cleaning and get him a new glass of juice he’s already back in the bedroom watching TV. I’m so glad Ben is free today so I can go back to my apartment and grab some more clothes.

  * * *

  “I missed having you here!” Vikki almost chokes me with her hug.

  “I miss being here,” I confess.

  “Uh-oh.” She brings out a box of chocolates and puts it in between us on the couch. “What’s happening?” She looks concerned.

  I slowly unwrap a piece of chocolate to kill time and compose myself. I feel like bursting into tears, but I really don’t want to.

  “He’s just… I don’t know. I never see him. He doesn’t talk to me. And now his parents are gone and it’s just us. I don’t know how to help him on my own.”

  “You’re not on your own. You can call his doctor, his parents, Ben… me. Anyone anytime you need us.”

  I nod. I don’t want to fail this. I want to take care of him. I want so badly to fix him, but he’s just refusing to make any progress.

  “Babe, I know this is like the absolute worst timing, but I have to bring this up now…”

  “Yeah?”

  “They’re not renewing my lease.”

  “What? No!” I look around the place Vikki spent a lot of time decorating and making it feel like the coziest place in the world. “I love this place.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  “So what do we do?” I take another piece of chocolate.

  “About that…” She takes a deep breath and turns to face me properly.

  “I know this is a really bad time and I don’t want to do this to you but…”

  “Out with it. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

  “David offered to help me get into a huge event planning company. He has connections.”

  “That’s amazing!” I’m so happy for her. I know she’s so good at what she does, but once she’s settled into a place she gets bored and aims for something bigger.

  “But it’s in New York.” She exhales like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

  “Oh.” Shit.

  “I want you to come with me. I mean, I had no intentions of leaving you behind. David already said it was cool if you stay with us. His place is huge and he’s always at work anyway. But I didn’t think you’d want to leave Dylan before and especially not now.” She’s right. Even if Dylan and I were just friends I’d probably stay here. There’s something about this place and the people here that just feels right for me.

  “So you and David are a thing now?”

  “Well, yes. Kind of. Not entirely sure what we are, but we’ll be living together and he’s got this amazing career opportunity for me. I’d be crazy to say no, but I don’t want to leave you like this. Especially now that you’ll have to move.”

  “Please don’t worry about me. I’m going to miss you and this place, but I’ll be okay. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have found Nashville or Dylan, so I think you played your part in making my life better.”

  “I’m really sorry. I love you and I really didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I’ll help you find an apartment and a new roomie if you want. You can keep all the furniture.”

  “Stop apologizing. I can take care of myself. You just pack and prepare for your new job.”

  “What about Dylan?”

  “What about him?”

  “Maybe you can stay with him?”

  “No. Not now. I think it’d be moving too fast. Could have been an option if nothing had happened, but he’s not into having any sort of company these days.”

  “He’ll get better.”

  People keep saying that to me. I suppose it’s the natural response, but it doesn’t feel like it will.

  I spend the whole day with Vikki because she leaves in three days and there’s about three weeks of packing to do. We start packing some of her clothes and sorting out the final bills that need to be paid. She goes over all the details about the lease, which ends in two months. I act casual about having to move so soon, but I’m panicking on the inside. I’m financially stable, but she’ll be gone, Ben’s busy, Dylan’s not really helpful, so I’m on my own. Again.

  We get pizza for dinner and look at apartment listings nearby. Most of them are perfect; great price range, modern and close to Dylan’s yet none of them compare to this place. I got to go home to my best friend every day. Even if I stayed here it wouldn’t feel the same anymore. I shortlist a few apartments and add a reminder on my phone to have a look at them next time Ben can take care of Dylan.

  “I hope this isn’t a weird question but… if you and Dylan don’t work out, will you stay here?”

  “I think so. I’ve had more friends here than I had in my lifetime.” I’m still trying to process the fact she’s leaving. But I can’t tell her that. I know she feels guilty enough as it is.

  “Well, you know I’ll always be a phone call away. And seriously, if you want to leave at any time you’ll always have a place to stay.”

  We say our goodbyes and I go back to Dylan’s because Ben has to go squeeze in some late night rehearsals. They refused to practice around Dylan so he doesn’t feel any worse, because that’s what we all seem to do these days. Tiptoe around Dylan.

  DYLAN

  Chloe looks stressed out. I don’t see her much because I’m holed up in my room and she’s usually in the kitchen, but whenever I do see her she looks like she hasn’t slept. She’s glued to her work, cooking, cleaning, or running errands. I don’t know how much sleep she gets because she sleeps in Ben’s room while he sleeps on the couch. The doctor said I should sleep alone for the first week just so she doesn’t accidentally bump me, but I never invited her back into bed and she never asked. She didn’t sign up for this twenty-four-hour Dylan-sitting job yet she’s been stuck alone with me for two months now. I miss her. I miss her voice and her laugh. She has the best laugh and nobody brings it out in her anymore. She deserves someone who will.

  Ben and the guys are rehearsing nonstop except for when Ben needs to switch with Chloe. Mom and Dad call every single damn day and ask the same questions. They do it in the exact same order, so my answers are rehearsed and come out before they even finish the sentence. Then comes the lecture from Dad about how I’ll never get better if I don’t do the hand exercises the physiotherapist has assigned. What’s the point? It’s been months and I made no progress. I go to therapy and do what I’m told there. Once I get home I stay in bed and watch TV. It’s the only time I have a chance to forget. Forget that I can’t open a jar on my own. Forget that I can’t take my T-shirt off in one go. Forget that I can’t play the guitar anymore. Forget that the band I’ve been in since I was fifteen is about to make it big without me. Forget that my brother is doing it without me. Forget that my girlfriend deserves better. Forget that I’m a failure.

  “Dude you have to decide which song.” Jackson rubs his face in frustration.

  “I don’t care, just whatever you guys want to do.”

  “You know legally you have to give us permission to use the song you wrote.” Ben comes in with a beer for everyone. Except me. I get a bottle of water. One of the many downfalls of this situation.

  “Okay, you have my permission to use whatever.” I shrug. I don’t care what they use. Who gives a fuck when I won’t even be there to perform. It’s not even my band anymore. Just my words.

  “Come on, Dyl, you still have one hundred percent input in all this,” Jackson says. “We aren’t doing this without you.”

  Except they are. They all ag
reed to go into the studio knowing I can’t play. They want my words but not me. I want to be a childish asshole and tell them to play “Fallen”. It’s the weakest song by far and doesn’t showcase any of the guys’ strongest points. It’s not a good radio song, it’s not catchy, and they’ll be sent home. But I can’t do that because I know they’re loyal enough to go with whatever I say even though they don’t agree with me.

  “Play ‘Mine Again’. The girls go nuts over it and it’s catchy, so they won’t be able to get it out of their heads for a while.” I get off the couch. “I’m going to nap. Headache,” I lie.

  “Thanks, bro.” Jackson looks at me with pity. This is why I hate having anyone over. All they do is look at me pitifully. I wish they’d just go on about their lives and leave me alone.

  I can hear them discussing their rehearsal timetable and locations. They won’t rehearse here because of me. I turn up the volume louder so I don’t have to listen to them talk. Years and years of rehearsals, playing at any party for a measly twenty dollars, dozens of notebooks filled with lyrics and this is how it ends.

  In my head I had my life sorted. I had a talent, I had a plan, I had a backup plan. I always knew there was a big chance Astor Blue wouldn’t go anywhere.

  There’s a part of me that really wants them to fuck it up. I want them to feel like shit, to hate, to give up. But this is my brother. My best friends. My words. Our work. We deserve it.

  Chapter Twenty

  CHLOE

  “Your mom hired someone to clean the place. They should be here in an hour. I’ll go and pick us up some lunch, then we can go for a small walk while they’re cleaning. You missed your half an hour walk yesterday, so we have to make up for it today. Plus, the weather is really nice, so maybe we can get some dessert too?”

  “STOP!” His own loud voice triggers a headache. He puts his fingers on his temple and takes a big breath. “Just stop.”