by Julia Kent
He shot Josie a warning look that said, Don’t you say a word.
She just snorted.
He loved her so much.
A wave of appreciation washed over him. He had her. Right here, right now, joking in the checkout aisle, an intimate and domestic moment. Week in and week out they lived together, their work lives separate, the home hours just a series of stolen moments together meant to create a life.
She wasn’t in an ICU bed right now, her brain being monitored by a team of specialists. She wasn’t in a different hospital bed, bones set and casted, body bruised and shredded.
She was here.
She was his.
He checked himself, shoving the rising tide of overwhelming angst into a box inside. He would not fall apart in front of a WalMart cashier in downeast Maine.
“You okay?” Josie whispered, her voice not quite reaching his ear. She was so tiny, so short.
“Fine.” He fought to keep his voice calm. Alex slid his credit card through the machine, finished the transaction, and grabbed the large box for the coffeemaker, Josie carrying the rest.
By the time they were settled in the front seat of Madge’s car, he turned to Josie and pulled her into his arms abruptly, needing to smell her, craving her warmth, turning her into a touchstone. An anchor.
“You too?” she asked.
“Me too—what?”
“You feel it. The clawing desperation and the guilt that comes with being relieved that isn’t one of us in those hospital beds.”
“Yeah.” But there was more.
“And realizing that one day one of us will be in a hospital bed like that...and we’ll die. And the other one will be left alone.”
Oh, fuck. She hit the nail on the target. That’s what he was really thinking, deep down in the hidden corridors of his cavernous soul.
“I can’t—oh, Josie,” he said, his breath hitched, all the emotion too much.
“I can’t either,” she said, sniffling.
“We have so much life ahead of us.”
“Do we?” she asked. “I thought we did, too. And then something like this happens.”
“He’s not dead.”
“No, but...that was close.”
“Too close. And he’s not out of the woods yet.”
“We defer too much,” she whispered against his shoulder, her hand rubbing his knee. “We push off all the good parts of life because we think that sacrificing now means the payoff will come someday.”
“Someday.”
“What if there’s never a someday? Then what’s all this deferral for?”
Alex’s phone buzzed as he grappled with that question, wondering how to answer it without hearing his own soul scream. He pulled away from Josie and looked at it, heart racing.
“It’s a text from Jeremy. Mike Bournham is awake.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Mike Bournham
“Hey, asshole,” he rasped, his vision blurred, but he was damn sure that was Jeremy sitting next to him on the bed.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re the asshole. Not me.”
Jeremy jumped up. Mike groaned. The sudden shift in pressure on the thin mattress made his head fall two stories.
Then Jeremy disappeared through a shimmering waterfall.
Where was he? Why wasn’t it raining? That waterfall wasn’t water, he realized, as his eyes adjusted. It was a wall of glass.
Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whirr. Machine noises filled the air. Hospital. Was he in a hospital?
“Where am I?” he said aloud. No one answered. The shuffle of shoes filled the air, and then strange faces appeared, inches above him. He tried to turn his head to see them but again, his head felt like someone dropped it twenty feet off a roof.
Splat.
He groaned and tried to reach up, but the back of his hand screamed with pain.
“Shhhhhh. Stay put,” said a man’s comforting voice, a stranger, but someone who was used to saying the words. “Don’t move.”
“Where am I?” The words came out one at a time, like perfectly formed shapes.
“MIKE?” Lydia screamed from another planet. “MIKE! LET ME SEE HIM!”
The screams hurt his head.
But made his heart feel better.
Murmurs. Shushes. He heard the cacophony of voices that don’t speak clearly, and then Lydia and Jeremy’s faces, right in front of him.
“Mike? Can you hear me? Say something! I’m here. It’s Lydia.”
“Who else would it be?” he choked out. “It’s you and the asshole.”
“Mike!’ she gasped. “He’s back!”
“You’ll pay for that,” Jeremy said, but Mike could hear the smile in his voice.
“What’s the asshole’s name?” Lydia pleaded.
“Could we please stop referring to me as the asshole? I do have a name,” Jeremy said dryly.
“Shithead?” Mike asked.
Lydia and Jeremy groaned, but it was a happy sound.
“What happened to me?”
“You tried to bang three hookers and a monkey in Fiji,” Jeremy joked.
“At the same time?”
“Can we stop with the joking?” one of the doctors said in a clipped voice. “We need to examine him. You’re in ICU and I have to ask you to leave for a bit.”
Mike’s head buzzed with pain and he felt himself drift away.
Someone squeezed his hand, and then a bright light blinded him. He closed his eyes and let the doctors and nurses do their job.
And then everything faded to a comforting black, the image of Lydia’s beautiful face imprinted in his mind.
Lydia
“You gave us such a huge scare.” Mike had been awake for a solid hour now, and after a massive wave of staff, and a run through the MRI machine, Mike was settled back in bed, obviously exhausted, but alert and talking.
“I’m sorry.”
“God, don’t be sorry, Mike,” Jeremy said, clearing his throat. “You saved Mike Pine.”
“You saved Mike Pine. And me,” Mike retorted. Then he groaned.
Lydia squeezed his hand. “Need more painkiller?”
“Not enough in the world. My head feels like someone put it through a meat grinder.”
“They’re guessing, based on all the bumps and wounds, that you hit three rocks with your head going down.”
“Lucky me. Why can’t I bat like that?”
Lydia’s phone buzzed yet again, but she ignored it. Her mom and dad and brothers kept everything going at the campground. Mike Pine was doing fine; Laura had joined her in the waiting room and they’d just held each other and cried, with Madge fussing around them, insisting that the coffee wasn’t that bad.
Now that Mike was awake, and the doctors assured her that his neurological functioning seemed to be fine, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself.
Giddy. She was giddy with relief.
“How’s Pine?” Mike asked.
“A few broken bones. Laura says the doctors will probably release him in the morning.”
Jeremy looked at the clock. “It is morning.” 3:54 a.m.
“The wedding’s in twelve hours,” Mike said.
“Wedding?” Jeremy gaped at them both. “You think they’re going to hold the wedding?”
“Why not?” Mike croaked out. “I’m not one of the grooms. And if Pine isn’t in too much pain, and can walk, then hell yes they need to have the wedding. Don’t let my stupid fall stop their celebration.”
“That’s exactly what I said!” Lydia beamed. “I said you’d be upset if you were the reason they called off the wedding.”
“You know me well.” Mike’s hand lifted off the sheet and stretched out to her, though his eyes remained closed. “Come here.”
She did, happily.
Jeremy
“Don’t you ever do that again,” Jeremy snapped, reeling from the last few hours. Mike was awake, giving him shit.
This was great.
<
br /> “What? Go night-kayaking?” He watched as Lydia stroked the back of Mike’s hand, careful to avoid IV lines and wires.
“Jesus, Mike,” Jeremy said with a sniff. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t. He just needed to sniff.
“Are you crying?” Mike’s eyes opened slowly, one eyebrow arching in judgment.
“I don’t cry.”
“Bullshit. You cried when I beat you at basketball.”
“Those were tears of amusement that you would ever think you could beat me at basketball.”
“Would you two stop?” Lydia’s grin made it clear they didn’t have to.
“I’m tired,” Mike said with a huff.
“Should we leave?” Jeremy asked gently.
“No. Not yet.” Jeremy could barely contain his sense of relief, the feeling so strong and broad he felt like telling complete strangers on the street that Mike was fine. His body felt loose, like happy-filled noodles, and all he could do was sit in the room and stare at Mike.
“Do you remember what happened?” Lydia asked gently.
“No.”
“Do you want to know?” she prodded, giving Jeremy a look that said, You should tell him.
Jeremy’s stomach dropped. He did not want to relive what happened tonight.
“I can guess,” Mike rasped. “I fell. I was wearing water shoes and didn’t have a good grip. Hit a bunch of rocks on the way down. My ass burns.”
“Really don’t need to hear about your bowel habits,” Jeremy said.
“No,” Mike chuckled. “I mean it burns, like a scrape.”
“Your wetsuit was sliced open. They think you got your hip caught on a tree branch of some kind.”
“That was a great wetsuit!” Mike groaned.
“You’re worried about a damn wet suit?” Lydia charged. “You nearly died!”
Jeremy stopped breathing. Lydia’s eyes flashed with anger as she whirled around on him, standing and hovering over him, finger wagging in his face.
“Mike’s barely been awake for an hour and you’re making all these ridiculous jokes! And he’s in that bed going on about losing his damn wetsuit! We almost lost him!”
“Why are you yelling at me?” Jeremy protested.
“Because you’re not the one in medical crisis! You’re safe to yell at! I don’t have to feel guilty yelling at you!”
A nurse popped her head in, shushing them. “This is ICU. You have to be quiet.”
“Careful. She might yell at you, lady,” Jeremy muttered.
Lydia looked like smoke was about to come out of her ears.
And then she burst into sobs.
Jeremy winced. He’d done it again.
He never knew what to say at times like this.
“Lydia,” Mike said, looking at Jeremy like he’d done something wrong. “Come here. You too, Jeremy.”
They both shuffled to his side. Mike reached his hand up to clasp Jeremy’s. Lydia kept her head bowed, just crying. Jeremy took his free arm and awkwardly comforted her.
“Look. I wish I could say I spent a lot of time contemplating the meaning of life when I was unconscious, or having a seizure, but I didn’t. I was out. You two are the ones who had to suffer. Emotionally, that is.” He flinched. Jeremy couldn’t even begin to imagine how much pain Mike felt right now.
“I just know this: I’m damn glad to see you. And I didn’t die, Lydia.”
“But you could have.”
“Yes.”
Jeremy’s gut twisted.
“But I didn’t. I’m here. Jeremy’s here, and I suspect he’s the reason I’m here.”
Jeremy caught his eye, jarred by seeing the arctic blue with its cunning stare. “What?”
“You’re great in a true crisis.” Mike didn’t hand out compliments like beads at a Mardi Gras party, so that was one hell of a statement.
“How would you know?”
Mike gestured at his body in the bed. “This is proof.”
Jeremy couldn’t help but smile. “You’d do the same for me.”
“I’d do the same for anyone.”
“We know. Mike Pine sure as hell knows.”
Lydia glowed, her smile half-covered with tears, her eyes red with circles of exhaustion underneath.
“I’m so glad you’re not brain damaged,” she blurted out.
“How would we know the difference?”
“Shut up, Jeremy,” they both said in unison.
Oh, yeah. Mike was definitely back to normal.
He reached down, Lydia snared in his arms, and the three embraced until one of Mike’s monitors started beeping.
A nurse rushed in, saw their huddle, and interrupted with, “I need to check the monitor.” Jeremy turned around to find her smiling at them.
“Sure.” He and Lydia stepped back, his arm slipping around Lydia’s shoulders, finger snagging in her hair.
“You two are so nice to be supporting your friend.”
Jeremy closed his eyes, knowing Mike had the same look on his face, mirroring his. Lydia’s eyes would be cast down, and all three would be simmering for days over the should-haves.
We should have corrected her.
We should have said something.
We should have...
The nurse fiddled with a monitor and left quickly, leaving Jeremy to open his eyes and look at Mike, who was looking at Lydia.
Who managed to look sad, angry, relieved, and in love—all at once.
Laura
Cyndi’s text at 6:51 a.m. woke her up, the buzzing against her chest translated into a mewling newborn seeking a breast in her dreamlike state. She startled, realizing she was curled up in a tiny recliner chair in the hospital room next to Mike. Dylan was twisted in a simple reception room chair on the other side of the bed, his mouth open as he lightly snored.
Laura looked at her phone.
Kids are up. Everything is fine. Jilly’s asking for you and Mike. What should I tell her? the nanny texted.
Laura paused. She looked at Mike, whose eyes were closed, his chest moving a little faster than it should if he were truly asleep.
Tell her we’re coming back to the campground this morning, Laura texted back. And thank you so much, Cyndi. You’re a champ.
Thank Ellie and Dylan’s parents. They’ve been amazing through this. Rose and Paul said to tell Dylan to call them. They’re worried.
Laura looked at her beloved men and realized that they were beloved by other people, too. Even Mike’s parents loved him—in their own way.
Will do, she texted back, stretching slowly.
“I’m up,” Mike said softly.
“Me, too,” Dylan said with a groan. “I feel like I slept on a porcupine.”
“Can I go home now?” Mike asked.
Laura and Dylan looked at him in surprise.
“The doctor has to come by and examine you to decide,” Laura said slowly, standing and walking to him, her joints popping, blood flowing into her muscles. She was wiped.
As she got closer to Mike, she nearly cried out in shock. His face was one big, drying scrape, one cheekbone covered in a nasty abrasion. His forearms were showing, one casted from wrist to above the elbow, the other dotted with so many cuts, wounds, and scrapes that it looked like a boxer’s face after a losing match.
Dylan let out a low whistle. “Ouch, man.”
“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “It hurts. But what about Bournham?” His eyes lit on Laura. “Any news?”
She nearly cried with joy. “He’s fine,” she said, placing her hand on the sheet that covered Mike’s leg. “Woke up in the middle of the night, brain function is all normal. He’s in a great deal of pain and needs to be hospitalized for a few days, but they think he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Great.”
“Lydia texted me,” Laura added. “Says Mike Bournham insists that we have the wedding if that’s what we want. His exact words were, ‘I’m not one of the grooms.’”
The room filled with appreciative laughter.
“If Mike Bournham says we should go ahead, then we’re going ahead. We’re getting married in nine hours. Let’s get going,” Mike declared, climbing out of bed and shuffling into the bathroom.
Displaying his bare ass to Dylan and Laura.
“Clothes would help,” Dylan said, reaching for Mike’s travel carry-on. Someone must have brought that in the night. Laura had no idea who, but the case was familiar.
“I have to wear clothes at my own wedding?” Mike joked from the bathroom.
Dylan and Laura shared a smile.
Mike was fine.
Everything was closer to fine.
Dylan’s phone rang.
“That has to be Mom,” he said sheepishly, moving into the hallway. His deep voice, filled with apologies, rumbled outside while Laura looked around the hospital room in wonder.
The last day felt like ten.
She missed Adam, Aaron and Jillian. She missed their home back in Massachusetts. She missed everything that was boring and mundane, cherishing the quiet chaos of their life. If the last twenty-four hours were a taste of what a busier, more exciting life entailed, forget it.
“She wants to know if the wedding’s on?” Dylan asked, covering the mouthpiece with his hand, giving Laura a look that said she was the decider.
Laura shrugged.
“That’s not an answer,” he noted.
“I don’t know. Let’s get Alex and Josie in here and talk.”
“Where are they?”
She shrugged again.
“Hey, Mom?” Dylan said into the phone. “Any chance you’ve seen Alex and Josie there?”
“How about here?” Alex’s voice echoed from down the hallway.
“We found them,” Dylan said into the phone with a laugh, walking into a corner, continuing the call.
Josie beamed at Laura and gave her a tight hug. “We came back after Mike Bournham woke up, but you were asleep. We didn’t want to wake you.”
“Did you guys go back to the campground?” Laura asked, confused.
Alex thumbed behind himself. “We slept in an on call-room they lent us.”
“Ah. Nostalgic for your first time together?” Dylan joked.
Josie punched him in the back.
“Hey!” he gasped. “Cheap shot!”
