Messy Perfect Love

by Claire Kingsley

  “Mom’s guesses?” I ask. “Why is she even guessing anything?”

  “Because you keep missing dinner with her and Dad,” Ryan says. “It’s kind of obvious you’re avoiding everyone.”

  I don’t want to say it. They already know. I can tell they know. It isn’t like news doesn’t travel fast in this town. They’ve been holding back, avoiding asking me questions, and I’m glad of it. If I say it out loud, it will be real. And they’re going to ask why. I’m not sure if I have a good answer to that question.

  But at this point, it’s kind of stupid not to talk about it.

  “I broke things off with Clover,” I say.

  Hunter doesn’t say anything, but Ryan raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Seriously?” Ryan asks.

  “Yes, seriously.”

  “Fuck me, what did you do that for?” Ryan knows how to push my buttons almost as much as Jennifer did.

  “It’s none of your goddamn business,” I say.

  “Of course it’s my goddamn business,” Ryan says. “You’re my brother, and when you’re being a fucking idiot it’s my job to tell you.”

  I grind my teeth together and look out the window.

  “Don’t get pissed at me,” Ryan says.

  “I’m not pissed at you,” I say. And I’m not. I’m pissed at myself. “Look, she was great. But she’s…” I trail off. I don’t know how to explain it.

  “Not the perfect doctor’s wife?” Ryan says.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I ask.

  “Cody, you play it safe. You always have. Clover was a risk. And hey, I don’t know what’s going on behind closed doors or whatever, but you seemed good together. Really good. And now you’re back to living at your clinic and being goddamn pissy all the time. It seems like you were better off with her.” He takes a drink of his beer. “But what do I know?”

  I stare at the bottle in front of me. “It doesn’t matter at this point, because she’s gone. She left town. And honestly, that’s part of the problem. She’s never stayed anywhere in her life. She doesn’t stick things out. She sees some fucking sign in the clouds and she takes off. That’s not me. I don’t want to pack up my shit and move to a new place every time I get bored. I need someone who’s dependable.”

  “She didn’t leave town,” Ryan says.

  “Yes, she did.”

  “No, she didn’t,” Ryan insists. “I saw her at the café. She was working.”

  I sit up in my seat. “When?”

  “Yesterday,” he says. “She asked if you were doing okay, but she looked pretty upset when she said it.”

  “That’s so weird,” I say. “I went to her place to talk to her, and she was gone.”

  Ryan shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe she just wasn’t home when you stopped by. But I definitely saw her.”

  She’s still here. That means she didn’t bail. She didn’t move on.

  Hunter looks out the window and his eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

  Tires screech and there’s a loud crash, the sickening crunch of metal on metal.

  Before I process what’s happening, I’m out the door, Hunter and Ryan on my heels. Two cars are in the middle of the intersection—one silver, the other red. The front of the silver car is smashed into the driver’s side of the red one. Behind me, I hear Hunter say something about the silver car coming out of nowhere and running the stop sign.

  Clover drives a red car.

  I run, sprinting toward the scene. There’s no way it’s her. She left. I don’t give a shit what Ryan said, she left town. She’s long gone, so she can’t be in that car. It can’t be her.

  I get closer. Smoke or steam rises from the silver car and a guy stumbles out. He has blood on his face. I hear Ryan talking to a 911 operator. The guy needs help, but he’s on his feet, and I have to get to the other car. The silver car is in the way. I can’t see who’s driving the red one.

  The driver’s side is smashed in and blocked. I can’t get to it. I run around to the passenger side and rip open the door.

  No. No, no, no, no.

  Curly blond hair. A long-sleeved yellow shirt. Her eyes are closed.

  The side of her car is smashed in, pushing her across the center console, despite her seat belt. Her head lolls to the side, her chin against her shoulder. I smell the tang of blood, and I crawl inside, desperate.

  Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.

  “Clover.” I feel her neck. There’s a pulse, but it’s weak. I almost cry with relief. “Clover, stay with me. Stay with me, baby.”

  Then I see the blood. It’s blooming across her yellow shirt and down her pants, darkening her clothes with alarming speed. My chest tightens with panic.

  I have to get her out of here.

  Time seems to slow, all the details of the car sharpening. My heart is pounding, but I force myself into calmness, pushing away my fear. In my mind, I can already see each action I need to take. Moving her is a risk because of the possibility of a spinal injury, but she’ll bleed out if I don’t stop it. I have to trust my gut.

  My hands are steady as I unfasten her seatbelt and wedge my arms beneath her. I pull her to the passenger’s side, holding her body next to mine. Blood seeps onto my sleeves, hot and sticky.

  I get her out and lay her down on the road next to the car. Her left arm bends the wrong way; it’s broken, but a broken arm won’t kill her. I carefully move it out of the way and lift up her shirt to see where the blood is coming from.

  There’s a ragged gash in her side, just above her hip. Dark blood seeps out. I quickly pull off my shirt and fold it. It’s not sterile, but I don’t have anything else. I have a first aid kit in my car, but there’s no time. I apply it to the wound, careful not to press too hard. I don’t want to do more damage and she’s probably bleeding internally. There’s nothing I can do to stop that, except keep her alive until the paramedics get here.

  I hold my shirt against her, firm but gentle. I look up at Hunter. “Push her legs up so her knees are bent, her feet flat on the ground.”

  He nods and kneels next to her. His face is stoic as he moves her legs up, bending her knees. It puts her in a better position, and she’s unconscious so we don’t have to worry about the pain.

  Blood soaks through the shirt onto my hands. I can still hear Ryan talking to someone, but his voice seems far away. I hold onto her, watching the color drain from her face. I’m a fucking doctor, but I’m sitting in the road and there’s nothing else I can do.

  The whine of an ambulance siren cuts across the air. In seconds, the paramedics are here, asking me questions. I tell them I’m a doctor, give them my evaluation. My voice is calm and devoid of emotion, but inside I’m holding on by nothing but the thinnest of threads. They ease her onto the gurney, moving as fast as they can. I stand there, covered in her blood, while they load her into the back of the ambulance.

  A second ambulance is nearby, helping the other driver. Police cars block the intersection. Lights flash all around me and a smattering of onlookers peer at the scene of the accident from the fringes.

  “She’s lucky you were nearby,” someone says.

  I turn to look at the paramedic. The ambulance siren turns on and it starts to drive away.

  “She’s my girlfriend,” I say. It doesn’t sound like my voice.

  “Cody!” Someone’s calling my name. Ryan.

  I blink hard, the world around me going blurry. I look down at my bloody hands.

  “Cody, let’s go.”

  A cop yells for us to stay. He wants to take a statement. But the paramedic stops him, telling him we’re going to the hospital with the victim.

  Hunter and I get in Ryan’s car. I don’t remember how I got here, but I’m sitting in the passenger seat and we’re halfway to the hospital before my brain starts to catch up with me. All I can see is Clover’s face, going pale, her blood all over my hands. Ryan grips the steering wheel, driving fast, the lines around his jaw tense.

  We park
outside the entrance to the emergency room. Hunter hands me a t-shirt and I realize I’m not wearing one. It was on Clover. Soaking up her blood. I put it on and get out. I’m in a daze.

  Reality hits me upside the head when we walk into the ER, and suddenly I’m coherent again.

  “I’m Dr. Jacobsen,” I say to the attendant. “I was just at the scene of an accident at the intersection of Main and First in Jetty Beach. Victim was a woman in her late twenties. Severe abdominal laceration, possible internal bleeding, further injuries undetermined. She should have arrived via ambulance in the last five minutes.”

  The woman nods. “I’ll check the status for you.” She leaves for a moment, and my heart beats so hard I can barely breathe. She returns. “They already took her to the OR. She’s being prepped for emergency surgery right now.”

  That means she’s still alive.

  “Would you like to go back and clean up, Dr. Jacobsen?” the woman asks.

  I look down at my hands, covered in rust-colored streaks. There’s nothing I can do for Clover except wait. I’m not a surgeon. I can’t scrub in and assist. Even if I was, I’m in no state for it. It’s all I can do to keep from shaking.

  “Yeah, sure. Thank you.”

  A nurse in blue scrubs comes out and leads us back. I hear Ryan tell the nurse the victim is my girlfriend.

  Except she isn’t. Because I fucking left her.

  I clean up in a bathroom, and someone leads us to another waiting room. She says the surgeon will come out when he’s finished. She asks us if we want coffee.

  I sit down in a chair and lean forward, putting my face in my hands. I smell like the harsh chemical emergency room soap. I still have blood on my pants. My gut churns with fear, and worry, and impotence. There’s nothing I can do and I can’t get over the feeling that this is my fault. If I hadn’t left her, she wouldn’t have been in her car today. We would have been at my place. This shouldn’t have happened.

  Please, Clover. Please don’t die.

  The wait feels like hours. Ryan and Hunter stay, and it isn’t long before my mom and dad are there. Nicole shows up soon after.

  I pace around the surgical waiting room. Mom tries to get me to eat something. Everyone else keeps their distance, giving me space. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.

  Why didn’t I call her? Or send her a text? I should have, even just to see how she was doing.

  I never should have left her in the first place.

  I know, with every piece of my soul, that she and I were meant to be together. I knew it this morning, before I was pacing in a fucking hospital, waiting to see if she’s going to live or die. I knew it when I went to her empty house. I knew it when I dropped her off and let her get away.

  The surgeon comes out and looks around at us, as if he isn’t certain who he’s supposed to talk to.

  “I’m Dr. Foster. Are you all here for Clover Fields?” he asks.

  We all step forward, converging on him. I try to read his face, my gut twisting in a knot.

  “Yes,” my mom says behind me. “We’re her family.”

  My chest clenches. Her family.

  “Surgery went well,” the surgeon says. “She has bruised ribs, but she’s fortunate that none of them cracked. Her left arm is broken in two places, but we were able to set and splint it. That should take four to six weeks to heal. The real problem was the abdominal laceration. Something pierced her abdomen on the left side. I’m confident I stopped all the bleeding, but we’ll need to keep her here for a few days at least. She lost a lot of blood, but a transfusion took care of that. All in all, she was very lucky.”

  I close my eyes. She’s okay. I put a hand to my chest. My lungs feel heavy, like I can’t get enough air.

  “Thank you,” I manage to croak out.

  “Whoever was first on the scene probably saved her life,” he says. “She was bleeding heavily, but whoever got to her first did everything right. She’s still asleep now, but a nurse will bring you back to see her soon. Although … maybe not all of you at once.”

  My legs feel like they might buckle. I shake hands with Dr. Foster and thank him again. I think my family can tell I’m about to collapse, because I feel a strong arm around my shoulders. Hunter. I breathe out a long, slow breath. She’s okay. She’s going to be fine. I’ll be with her soon.

  And I’m never letting go of her again.

  28

  Clover

  I’m floating, like my head isn’t attached to my body. The lights are dim, but still too bright. Everything looks stark. Cold. Sterile. Tubes cross my face, hanging near my eyes. I’m lying on my back, my head slightly lifted. I have no idea where I am.

  I suck in a breath, fear gripping me. My eyes won’t focus.

  “Clover.”

  Someone says my name. The voice is so familiar, but it feels like a dream. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. My head is so fuzzy.

  “Clover,” someone says again. A hand over mine, squeezing gently. “Baby, can you hear me?”

  “Cody?” My voice doesn’t sound like mine.

  “Yeah, baby, it’s me.”

  It can’t be Cody.

  “Shh,” he says. “Don’t talk. You’re okay. I’m here. I won’t leave.”

  I close my eyes. I can’t stay awake. I don’t know where I am, but Cody’s hand is on mine and I relax, drifting back into blackness.

  When I open my eyes again, I’m still fuzzy, but at least I can think.

  There’s an IV in my arm and tubes beneath my nose. I try to move but my breath catches. I feel like I got hit by a truck. Everything hurts. It’s a dull pain, the sort that should be sharp and intense, but it’s being suppressed by pain killers. That must be why my brain is so cloudy.

  The room is dim, but slivers of light shine through the blinds. Machines beep and I can see the drip of the IV fluids next to me. Drip. Drip. It trails down the tube into my arm.

  I blink again and realize I’m not alone. Cody’s sitting in a chair next to me. He’s slumped down, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder, his eyes closed.

  I try to talk, but my mouth and throat are so dry, it’s hard to make a sound.

  “Cody.” My voice comes out as nothing but a croak.

  His eyes open and he sits up, grabbing my hand. “Clover,” he breathes.

  Images flash through my mind. Memories I can’t quite make out. Driving through an intersection. A moment of panic. A flash of silver. Then nothing. Nothing but blackness until I see Cody’s face. Every time I open my eyes, I see his face, feel his hand on mine. Through the panic and the fear and the pain, he is there.

  “Do you know where you are?” he asks.

  “Hospital?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Do you remember what happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “You were in an accident. A guy t-boned you when you went through an intersection.”

  “When?”

  His brow furrows and he pulls out his phone. “I guess that was two days ago.”

  “Two days?” I say. It’s coming together, but my mind is struggling to catch up. “Am I hurt?”

  He squeezes my hand again. “Your arm is broken, and you have a lot of bruises. Something cut you open on your left side. You were in surgery for a couple hours, but they got you all put back together.”

  Oh my god. Surgery? “Did I hit my head again?”

  He smiles. “No, baby, you didn’t hit your head. You actually got lucky there. That could have killed you.”

  “Am I allowed to have water?”

  “Yeah, of course. Hang on.” He’s gone for a moment and returns with a little cup and straw. “Here. Just a sip until we’re sure you can handle it.”

  I take a drink and the cool water feels like heaven in my mouth. It soothes my scratchy throat. I shift my legs and wince as a sharp jolt of pain shoots through me.

  “Don’t move too much,” he says, putting a gentle ha
nd on my shoulder.

  I stare at him. How is it possible that he’s here? I just woke up. I couldn’t have told someone to call him. “How did you know?”

  A shadow of pain crosses Cody’s face. “I was first on the scene.”

  “What? What does that mean? How?”

  “I was a block away, having a beer with my brothers,” he says. “Hunter saw it happen out the window. I heard the crash, and I saw the car was red. I ran to the scene. I had to make sure it wasn’t you. But it was.” He stops and looks away. “I pulled you out of your car and tried to stop the bleeding until the paramedics arrived.”

  Tears flood my eyes. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “Have you been here this whole time?” I ask.

  “Yeah, they tried to make me leave overnight, but I pulled rank. One of the good things about being a doctor, I guess.”

  “Cody, I don’t know what to say. I thought…”

  He leans forward and touches my arm. “What?”

  “I thought you got back together with Jennifer.”

  His eyebrows draw down and he sits back. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

  “I saw you having dinner with her. I saw the way she was looking at you.”

  “Wait, the other night at the Porthole Inn?” he asks. “You were there?”

  “I saw your car, so I went in. But you were with her.” My voice breaks on the last word.

  He moves close and puts a hand on my face. “Baby, no. She asked me to meet her and I shouldn’t have. I left. I didn’t even finish my drink.”

  “But—”

  “Wait,” he says, putting a finger to my lips. “You’re hurt, sunshine. We don’t have to do this now.”

  Sobs bubble up, and my throat feels like it’s closing. I can’t stop. “You left me.”

  “Oh fuck, I know,” he says. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, it was me,” I say through sobs. “I made you do it.”

  “You didn’t make me do it,” he says, caressing my cheek.