“I’m going to go find a nurse,” my dad said quietly before slipping from the room.
“Hadley, sweetheart.” My mom gave my hand another squeeze, still looking at me with concerned expression. “How do you feel?”
“I . . . don’t know,” I said honestly.
The feeling of numbness was slowly starting to fade, and a dull ache was beginning to creep over me. The door opened a moment later and my dad entered, closely followed by a nurse dressed in purple scrubs.
“Well, I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see you awake,” the nurse told me with a wide smile. “You gave us all a real fright there.”
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.
The nurse started to check the mess of machines by the bed, fluttering around me like a bird, asking me how I felt and if I was in pain, what my name was, who the president was, where I went to school and what grade I was in.
I knew all of the answers to the questions, but it took me a little extra time to recall them. My brain felt like it was full of a thick, dense fog, probably thanks to whatever medication they no doubt had me on.
“Well, I’m going to call Dr. Sherman and have him get down here right away,” the nurse said, turning to my mom and dad. “He’ll be thrilled to see Hadley’s awake.”
“Yes, of course,” my dad said with a nod.
The nurse frowned in thought. “Did you want to tell that boy she’s awake too? He’s been in here a lot, and I think he’s still out in the waiting room somewhere.”
That boy? “Oh.” It felt like my chest was ripping open as I tried to breathe. “Archer.” My twenty-seven days were up. In fact, I was on day twenty-nine. I didn’t need to see the numbers on my wrist to know that. “Where is he? I need to see him, I have to see him, I—”
“Hadley, I need to you calm down,” the nurse said gently, examining all of the machines I was hooked up to again as they started beeping erratically. “Just take it easy, all right? It’s not going to do any good if you get worked up.”
“I’ll go find Archer,” my dad said, heading for the door. “Hang on.”
The nurse said something about finding the doctor again, and followed my dad out of the room. My mom hovered beside the bed while I tried to force deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. Any air I actually managed to get in my lungs burned painfully.
Then the door opened after what had felt like a lifetime of passing me by.
“Archer!”
He was standing there, his eyes wide and bloodshot, his hair a mess, looking a little worse for wear, but he was breathing and alive.
Archer was alive.
Sweet relief crashed over me, but the pain stayed, radiating throughout every inch of my body, and it was entirely worth it.
“Is everyone okay? Is Victoria all right? Please tell me that nothing happened to anybody, I swear I—”
Archer held up his hands to stop my rapid flow of questions. “Hadley, stop. Just breathe for a second, okay?”
“But I just . . .” I sucked in a breath, working to hold back a fresh wave of tears. One of the machines I was hooked up to was beeping erratically the more my heart pounded. “I need to know that everything is okay.”
“You just woke up after being in a coma for four days, and you want to know how everyone else is doing?” Archer asked incredulously.
“Michaela, come on,” my dad said to my mom, putting his hand on her arm. “Let’s give them a moment.”
My mom looked like she was about to start a round of protesting, but my dad murmured something that made her shut her mouth. She shot Archer a look before saying to me, “Hadley, you call right away if you need us, okay?”
“Promise,” I said, desperate for them to leave so I could talk to Archer, just the two of us.
My parents left the room, my dad shutting the door quietly behind them.
I looked up at Archer, taking in every one of his features, so immensely relieved that he at least appeared to be okay that it was difficult to form a straight thought. He was watching me with a cautious expression, as if he was worried I was about to have a mental breakdown. At this point, it was a total possibility.
“You’re okay,” I finally managed to say, breathing shakily.
Archer frowned in confusion, moving closer to the bed. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? Are you okay?”
There were plenty of reasons why Archer wouldn’t be okay, but I was definitely not in the mood to share my knowledge concerning that. I didn’t think I ever would.
“I don’t know, I was just . . . I thought you . . .” My first reaction was to shrug, and I immediately regretted it as intense pain shot through me at the attempted motion. “How . . . how is Victoria?”
“My grandmother is fine,” Archer said. “The doctors say she’ll pull through. Besides, she’s too stubborn to die.”
I wanted to laugh at that, but I forced myself not to. Laughing would probably hurt worse than shrugging had. “Good,” I forced out.
Archer dropped into the chair beside the bed my mother had just vacated and slumped backward, covering his eyes with a hand.
It felt like we were both ignoring the elephant in the room.
“You know, if you ever do something to me like that again, I’m going to kill you myself.”
“I— Wait, what?”
Archer moved forward in the chair, looking at me with this intense expression on his face that was alarming. “I’m not an emotional, touchy-feely kind of guy, Hadley, and I think you know that.”
“I know you’re not,” I said. I didn’t understand where he was going with this.
“They said you were dead. Do you have any idea what that was like? Sitting there and hearing doctors and nurses running around, shouting about how there was nothing they could do to save your life?” Archer had gotten to his feet sometime during his little speech and started running his fingers through his hair, just like he always did when he was agitated. Some things never changed.
“I was there.” Archer dropped back into the seat beside my bed and leaned forward on his elbows, clasping his hands beneath his chin. He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “We were in the waiting room, hoping to hear from somebody about my grandma, when they come rushing in with you, and you were—”
His voice cracked on that last word and trailed off into nothing. He wasn’t crying, but an odd expression had taken over his face. His brows were furrowed and his mouth was twisted in a frown. I could see his fingernails digging into the heels of his palms.
“And I just keep thinking about the last thing I said to you. And, Hadley, you just . . . You were dead there for those few minutes. I never wanted to think about what I would do if I lost you.”
“You would have been fine,” I told him. He would’ve missed me, I know that. But I wanted to believe he would have moved on. “You know you would’ve been okay without me.”
“No.” Archer sounded furious, quick to disagree. “You don’t get to decide that. You can’t tell me how I feel about you, Hadley. Didn’t you say the same thing to me last week? If you’d died, I would’ve . . .”
He looked like he might have wanted to keep speaking, but couldn’t. We lapsed into an awkward silence. Honestly, I was just relieved by the fact he was actually here, and that I could see him with my own two eyes. I wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Archer was right in front of me. Victoria was going to be okay, and my parents were just outside, waiting for me. I didn’t know what else I could want.
“Can I ask you something?” Archer sounded calmer, not quite as agitated.
“You know you can,” I told him.
“What I don’t get . . .” Archer started to say, then stopped, taking a deep breath. “Why did you even bother?”
“Bother with what?” I said, confused. “Coming to the hospital?”
“With me. Why now? Why would you ever want to get to know me? I think I made it pretty clear I wasn’t looking for a friend, and you just felt the need to
muck that all up.”
“It sounds to me like you’re mad I’m your friend,” I said, wanting to smile.
This somehow seemed so Archer. I couldn’t think of anybody who would be mad they made a new friend.
“I wouldn’t say I’m mad,” Archer disagreed. “I’d say I’m annoyed. Annoyed because you are annoying.”
“I’m going to assume there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”
“Hadley, I’m trying to be serious here.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.”
He let out a frustrated groan, his head falling into his hands again. “I wasn’t looking for a friend, okay? I didn’t want a friend, and I certainly didn’t want you to be the one that changed that. Because at first, I just kept thinking, who does this girl think she is? In what universe would she think it’s okay to come waltzing into my life just to screw everything up?”
“I . . . screwed everything up?” I said, trying not to feel offended.
“Yeah, you did,” Archer said. “I had every reason to be mad at the world, Hadley, and I was fine with that. I guess I even thought I deserved it. It was what I was used to. But then the moment you come along, you made me realize that . . . that I don’t really want to keep living that way. But the thing is I don’t know how not to.”
It wasn’t hard to make out what he was trying to say.
“So you’re scared. Of me.” I had to work to keep from smiling.
Archer really must have been putting himself out on a line here, because he didn’t even try to deny it. “Change is scary, okay? I don’t do well with change. And even if I hated pushing everyone away, I was comfortable with it because it’s what I knew, and then you come and turn everything upside down, and I got scared because I didn’t think I would ever actually want that change.”
“But good change is okay, right?” I said hopefully.
My life had changed exponentially from the moment Death first approached me outside that church the night of Archer’s funeral. It would take time to process all of it, but I already knew that not all of it was bad. Scary? Absolutely. But bad? I didn’t think so.
“I don’t know,” Archer said, his voice sounding strained. His foot hadn’t stopped tapping out an anxious beat on the floor, and he was biting his lip, still not meeting my gaze. “I don’t know. That’s just the thing. Because . . . I look at you, and I see the person I want to be. The kind of guy who can give you everything you need. And then I remember every little screwed-up thought that’s ever gone through my head, and I realize I’m never going to be worthy of a girl like you. And what terrifies me is that I even want to try in the first place.”
I realized then that I’d been staring at him with my mouth hanging open like an idiot, and I quickly tried to come up with a semi-intelligent response. “When have I ever said I want you to be anything other than yourself, Archer? I’m willing to agree with you that you can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but that’s better than some Prince Charming. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
“Is that . . . supposed to reassure me?” Archer said, glancing up at me with his mouth in a hard line.
“No,” I said. “You said what’s on your mind, and now it’s my turn.”
He stopped to consider this for a moment, and then gestured with a hand to continue.
“I told you I wanted to be your friend because I wanted to get to know you, and that wasn’t a lie. I didn’t think it would be as hard as it was to get you to warm up to me, but when you started to, I was surprised by how much I liked it. Liked you. You wound up being the best friend I didn’t even know I wanted, and it’s because of who you are. Grumpy, unsociable Archer Morales.”
“Grumpy and unsociable?” Archer repeated, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Don’t even try to deny it,” I said, rather cheerily. “You know you’re grumpy and unsociable. I’d say I’m your happy, chipper sidekick now.”
His lips twitched with the barest hint of a smirk. “That’s a tough burden to bear.”
“Not a burden,” I said. “It’s give and take. All friendships are. So one day when I’m feeling moody and grouchy, as is your default setting, you’ll be there to tell me to knock it off and then eat all of my fries at lunch like you always do.”
“So, is this the part where we make each other friendship bracelets? Hold hands and sing Kumbaya? We could braid each other’s hair, too, and paint our nails. My favorite color is red.”
It was no use. I burst out laughing and immediately groaned as my midriff gave a painful spasm.
“Hadley, stop laughing!” Archer exclaimed, jumping to his feet, coming to my bedside.
“Quit making me laugh, then!” I said, somehow unable to stop even though it hurt.
“Do I need to get a nurse?” Archer asked, sounding frantic. “Seriously, stop it, you don’t want to rupture your stitches or anything, and I don’t—”
“Archer, I’m fine, okay?” I managed to catch his wrist before he could leave, despite all of the tubes taped to my hand. “Just stay.”
A thoughtful look crossed Archer’s face as he stared down at me, and then he slid his hand free from my grip, reaching out to brush back a strand of my tangled hair from my face. My skin burned where he touched.
“What?” I said self-consciously.
“There’s something else I realized,” he said hesitantly.
“What?” I repeated, my voice rising.
“I . . .” He sucked in a breath, splotches of pink covering his cheeks. “I really . . . haveanappreciationforpenguinsnow.”
I didn’t comprehend what he was saying at first, but when it finally sunk in, I had to smile. It hurt, the movement pulling at the scrapes that decorated my face, but I couldn’t stop. “You think I’m your penguin,” I said. It was hard not to sound pleased with myself.
He didn’t answer, and instead leaned down to gently press his lips against mine. The kiss lasted just a handful of seconds, but it was soft and sweet and enough to make my head spin when Archer pulled back.
“Get some rest,” he said, making his way to the door. “I’ll be back, though I reckon your mother has had just about enough of me.”
“The nurse said you’d been in here a lot,” I said, unable to keep from smiling again.
“Had to make sure you were all right, didn’t I?” Archer said, clearing his throat. “You’ll have to put in overtime to make up for all the hours you’ve missed at work.”
“I’ll be happy to, but can you at least wait until I’m not bedridden anymore?”
“I suppose that would be the polite thing to do.”
“Now you’re learning.”
CHAPTER 33
Holiday Cheer—Two Weeks After
I was going stir-crazy being stuck in the hospital. The doctor was sure I would make a full recovery, but I was being held as a precaution due to the fact that I’d had so much internal bleeding and damage done to my organs, not to mention my fractured skull.
“It’s a miracle you’re alive, Hadley,” he’d told me, smiling sympathetically. “Just be thankful. Hang in there, okay?”
The nurses were reluctant to even let me out of bed to walk around my room or go to the bathroom on my own, but I was gradually granted more freedom to move about as I wanted.
My parents visited me every day. It was awkward at first, spending so much time together after years of drifting apart. My relationship with my mom and dad had never been perfect, but things seemed to be . . . different now. Things would get better, I hoped, but it would take time.
Other visitors came in the form of Taylor, Chelsea, and Brie. They were glad I was making a full recovery, and were only too happy to fill me in on the goings on at JFK and all the drama I’d been missing out on. It was a relief to be around that sense of normality again.
Archer was another frequent visitor of mine. More often than not, he would take up post in the chair beside my bed whenever my parents weren’t present, and we would chat about his family and how the coffee
shop was doing, but rarely anything about school. I did try to get him to fill me in on the things I’d been missing in my classes, but he point-blank refused, telling me that I had enough trouble with geometry as it was, and the head injuries I’d received certainly hadn’t made me any better at it. I did get notes from a few of my teachers telling me that I had enough to worry about, and that homework could wait.
Much to my dismay, I wasn’t given a clean bill of health in enough time for the holidays, so I was stuck in the same dumb room for Christmas. But on Christmas day, I got the best gift I could have ever asked for. My jaw dropped and a little bit of chocolate pudding landed in my lap as Archer strolled inside, followed by Regina, Rosie, and then Lauren and Carlo.
“Hiya, Hadley!” Rosie said excitedly as they circled around the bed, brightly wrapped presents and bags of food in hand.
“W-What . . .” I swallowed hard, an unexpected wave of emotion crashing over me. “What are you all doing here?”
“Well, don’t look so surprised,” Archer said, dropping a present at the foot of my bed.
“It is Christmas, after all,” Carlo said, like it should’ve been obvious. “Like we’d really let you spend the day alone.”
“But I’m not alone, my parents just went to—”
“We’re your family too, you know,” Rosie said as she pulled on the bedsheets, trying to crawl her way into bed with me.
My gaze immediately went to Archer at Rosie’s words, thinking back to the last thing Archer said to me before I was hit by that car. And this was the thing about words. Said in the wrong place at the wrong time, even if they were full of doubt, words had a habit of sticking around for a long time.
“Just go with it,” Archer said, attempting a smile.
“We brought desserts,” Lauren said eagerly, setting one of the bags on the nightstand beside the bed. “Zia Regina made you cannoli!”
I immediately chucked the rest of my pudding in the trash. Who needed packaged pudding when you had cannoli?
In 27 Days Page 25
