I shook my head defiantly. “We should just end it now. All the mystery is gone.”
Braden was laughing hard again as he reached down to pull me up by the waist. I was in the middle of letting him help me when the crash and thud sounded from the kitchen. Our eyes flew to each other, our laughter dying.
“Ellie?” Braden shouted out in question.
Silence.
“Ellie!”
When she didn’t call back, my eyes widened on his and I jumped to my feet because Braden had already let me go to run through the apartment.
“Ellie!” I heard him cry out, and the fear in his voice had me picking up speed.
The sight that greeted me in the kitchen floored me. I stood frozen, watching as Braden kneeled on the floor, his hands hovering over Ellie whose body twitched in convulsions, her eyes fluttering rapidly, her mouth slack. “Ellie?” Braden’s pale face snapped up to me. “Call 999. I think she’s having some kind of seizure.”
I rushed out of the room, adrenaline making my hands shake and my coordination clumsy as I grabbed for the phone on my bedside table and dropped it. Fumbling, I cursed, utter fear choking me as I hurried back into the hall as the operator picked up. “Emergency, what service do you require? Fire, police or ambulance?”
“She just passed out.” Braden sat next to her helpless as her body went limp. “I don’t know what do? Fuck, I don’t know what to do.”
“Ambulance.” I heard the line go on hold and then two seconds later the ambulance control room picked up. “My roommate,” I spoke breathlessly into the phone, panicking because Braden of all people was panicking. “We heard a crash and we rushed into the kitchen and she was convulsing and now she’s unconscious.”
“What telephone number are you calling from?”
I rhymed it off impatiently.
“What is your exact location?”
Trying not to get angry at the robo-speak of the woman on the end of the line, I rhymed the address off too.
“Is this your roommate’s first seizure?”
“Yes!” I snapped.
“What age is your roommate?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Is she breathing?”
“She’s breathing, Braden, right?”
He nodded, his jaw clenched as he watched me.
“Okay, can you move your roommate into the recovery position as a precaution?”
“Recovery position,” I repeated to Braden and watched as he immediately re-arranged her gently.
“The ambulance is on its way. Please keep any pets out of the way of the ambulance crew when they arrive.”
“We don’t have pets.”
“Okay. Please stay on the line until the ambulance arrives.”
“Braden,” I whispered, still shaking. “What’s going on?”
He shook his head as he brushed Ellie’s hair off her face. “I don’t know.”
A noise drew us up tense.
A noise from Ellie.
I rushed over to them, falling to my knees to bend over her. Another groan escaped Ellie’s mouth as her head turned slowly. “Wha . . .” her eyes flickered open, dazed. And then they widened as she saw us hovering over her. “What happened?”
* * *
Despite regaining consciousness, the paramedics took Ellie away in the ambulance and Braden and I jumped into a cab to follow them to the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh. Braden called Elodie and Clark, and he called Adam. When we arrived there was a lot of waiting around and no one really telling us anything, and when Elodie, Clark and Adam arrived there was still no word.
“We left the kids with our neighbor,” Elodie whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “What happened?”
Braden explained as I stood silently by, my mind racing over all the worst outcomes. Being in the hospital was freaking me out, and I just wanted Ellie to come out and tell us everything was okay. I didn’t think I could handle anything else.
“Ellie Carmichael’s family?” a nurse called and we all stampeded her. She stared at us wide-eyed. “Are you all immediate family?”
“Yes,” Braden answered before Adam or I could respond.
“Come with me.”
Ellie was waiting for us, sitting up with her legs dangling off the side of a bed in the ER. She gave us a typical little girl Ellie wave and my heart lurched in my chest.
“What’s going on?” Elodie rushed to her side and Ellie grabbed at her mother’s hand reassuringly.
“Ellie’s family?”
We turned to find a forty-something bookish-looking doctor hovering over us. “Yes,” we all said in unison and Ellie cracked an exhausted smile.
“I’m Dr. Ferguson. We’re sending Ellie up for an MRI as soon as it becomes available.”
“An MRI?” Braden’s features grew taut as he glanced back at his sister. “What’s going on, Els?”
Her eyes were wide as she took us all in, our worry blasting out at her. “I haven’t felt right for a while.”
“What do you mean felt right?” Adam asked impatiently, crowding her, his bristling, angry intimidation making Ellie flinch.
“Adam.” I pulled on his shoulder to get him to ease up but he just shrugged me off.
“I think the doctor was wrong about me needing glasses,” Ellie admitted quietly.
Dr. Ferguson cleared his throat, obviously feeling he should come to his patient’s rescue. “Ellie has told us she’s been dealing with headaches, numbness and tingling in her right arm, a lack of energy, some lack of coordination, and today she had her first seizure. We’re just sending her up for an MRI to check everything’s okay.”
“Numbness?” I muttered, glancing at her arm, images of her squeezing it, shaking it, flooding over me. The amount of times she’d told me she had a headache. Fuck.
“I’m sorry, Joss. I just didn’t want to admit I was feeling so rubbish.”
“I can’t believe this,” Elodie sagged against Clark. “You should have told us.”
Ellie’s lip trembled. “I know.”
“When will the MRI be ready?” Braden asked, his voice low and demanding.
Dr. Ferguson didn’t seem to be intimidated. “I’ll take Ellie up as soon as it’s free, but there are a few patients booked in before her.”
And so the waiting began.
Chapter 21
After hours and hours of waiting, Ellie was sent home after the MRI. We were told because of the screw up her doctor had made not sending her for an MRI earlier that they’d request that the results be given as soon as possible. This still meant up to a two week wait. In the end we waited ten days, and those ten days were awful. A kind of blank numbness fell over us all as all the worst outcomes raced through our heads. I went to see Dr. Pritchard but I couldn’t even bring myself to talk about what was going on with me. It was a quiet session.
The whole ten days were a quiet session—the three of us sitting in the apartment, taking calls from Adam and Elodie, but not really saying anything. There was lots of tea and coffee-making, takeout, and television. But no discussion. It was like the fear had put a lock down on any meaningful conversations. And for the first time since we’d started seeing each other, Braden and I shared a bed without having sex. I didn’t know what to do for him, so I let him take the lead—when we did have sex it was slow and gentle. When we didn’t, Braden would roll me onto my side and wrap an arm around me, pulling me back into him, his head resting next to mine. I wrapped my own arm over his, hooked my foot around his leg and let him fall asleep against me like this.
Dr. Ferguson called and asked Ellie to come in to speak with him.
That was bad. That sounded bad. I stared at Ellie after she got off the phone and everything I’d been holding under, controlling, just burst apart at the seams. I saw the f
ear in Ellie’s eyes and I was so consumed by my own I couldn’t say anything to her that would help, so I didn’t say anything at all. Braden accompanied her to her appointment and I waited in the apartment—the big, cold, silent apartment—staring at the Christmas tree, disbelieving that Christmas was only ten days away.
The two hours they were gone I had to sit my ass on that steel trap door of mine to keep it closed. Or I wouldn’t be able to breathe.
When I heard the apartment door open everything felt lethargic, like we were moving underwater, struggling slowly against the weight. The sitting room door opened and Braden walked in, his face so pale and eyes so glazed, that I knew before I even looked at a tear-streaked Ellie. I knew what fear felt like when it was pulsing from a person, I knew how grief could thicken the air, how it could slam into your chest and cause pain through your whole body. Your eyes, your head, your arms, your legs, even your gums.
“They found something. A tumor. “
My eyes flew to Ellie and she shrugged at me, her mouth trembling. “They’ve referred me to a neurologist, Dr. Dunham at The Western General. I’ve to go in and speak with him tomorrow about everything. About the next step. Whether it’s surgery. Whether it’s malignant or not,” Ellie finished.
This was not happening.
How had I let this happen?
I took a step back, confused, angry, disbelieving that this was happening again.
It was all my fault.
I’d let them in, I’d broken my rules, and I was back at square fucking one!
Shit.
Shit!
SHIT!
But the terrified screams only echoed in my head. To Ellie I gave her a stoic nod. “You’ll be fine. We don’t know anything yet.”
But I knew. I knew. I was a curse. I knew I couldn’t be this happy. I knew that something bad would happen. What had I done to Ellie?
Ellie? I hurt for her. I wanted to take away her fear. I wanted her to be okay.
But I didn’t do any of that.
Instead I shoved her under my steel trap door. “I’ve got my shift at the bar tonight. I’m going to get in some gym time before then.” I nodded at them robotically and made to move past them.
“Jocelyn?” Braden grabbed my arm, his eyes full of apprehension and fear. And disbelief at my attitude. He needed me.
I didn’t want to need him.
I tugged my arm back gently and gave him a brittle smile. “I’ll see you both later.”
And then I walked out, leaving them alone with their fears.
* * *
I didn’t go to the gym. I went to Edinburgh Castle before it closed. The walk up the Royal Mile to Castlehill was brisk and frosty, the cold biting into my cheeks, my lungs seeming to work extra hard against the winter air. Once I crossed the drawbridge, I paid for my ticket, and then strolled under the stone arch and took the pebbled walkway that swept upwards on the right. I headed on up the main thoroughfare, and sketched right to the castle walls. There I stopped, standing by Mons Meg, one of the world’s oldest cannons, and together we stared out over the city. Even in the slightly misty frost, the city was breathtaking from here. I paid the not so inexpensive entry fee to the castle just for this view. And I guess for the majesty of it all. It was where I believed I could find a little peace, and I did this whenever I panicked about never, ever finding the long-lasting peace I sought. Today I needed this.
Blazing through the last few months, burying my head in the sand, pretending there weren’t consequences to loving people, had gotten me where I was. Only six months of making the change into the ‘new me’ and the floor had been ripped out from underneath me again.
That was selfish.
I knew that.
Ellie was the one suffering here, not me.
But that wasn’t true either.
Ellie Carmichael was one of a kind. She was sweet, kind, sort of goofy, funny, big-hearted . . . and my family. The first family I’d had since losing my own. I felt protective of her, I hurt when she hurt, I thought about her happiness, and what I could to do to help her get whatever would make her happy. Not even my relationship with Rhian had been as close.
I was almost as close with Ellie as I had been with Dru.
And now I was going to lose Ellie as well.
I sunk down to the ice-cold stone ground beside the cannon and wrapped my arms around my body in an effort to choke out the pain. It occurred to me that if I rewrote it all in my head, then maybe I wouldn’t feel this way. Maybe, Ellie and I weren’t that close. Maybe we never had been. If that were true, then losing her would be okay.
I jumped suddenly at the sound of my cell ringing. Stomach leaden with dread, I pulled it out and exhaled in relief when I saw it was Rhian calling.
“Hey,” I answered hoarsely.
“Yo, bitch,” Rhian called down the line, sounding surprisingly chipper. “How’s it hanging? I’m just calling to let you know that James and I are flying into Edinburgh in three days and then heading through to Falkirk to stay with his mum over Christmas. We’re going to nip into see you before we get the train, so I need your address, hon.”
Awful timing. “Things are kind of weird at the apartment at the moment. Can I meet you for coffee instead?”
“Jesus, Joss, you sound like hell. Is everything okay?”
I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. “I’ll explain when I see you. Coffee?”
“Yeah, okay,” she still sounded worried, “The coffee shop in the bookstore on Princes Street. Three o’ Clock, Monday.”
“See you then.” I hung up, my eyes scanning the view and then travelling upwards into the white clouds with their pale bellies and grumpy faces. It was just a vast array of weightless, floating fluff. Their bellies weren’t dark or heavy.
Without the weight, there was no rain.
* * *
Jo grabbed me before I could take my next customer’s order and she tugged me all the way back into the staff room. Her hands flew to her hips, her eyebrows drawn together. “You’re acting really weird.”
I shrugged, enjoying the blanket of numbness I’d found and promptly wrapped around myself. “I’m just tired.”
“No.” Jo took a step forward, her face etched with concern. “There’s something going on here with you, Joss. Look, I know we’re not really close, but you’ve always been there for me when I go on and on about my problems, so if you need to talk to me, I’m here.”
I don’t want you to be there for me. “I’m fine.”
She shook her head. “You’ve got this, like, dead look in your eyes, Joss. You’re scaring the crap out of me and Craig. Has something happened? Did something happen with Braden?”
No. And it’s not going to. “No.”
“Joss?”
“Jo, it’s really busy out there, can we not do this?”
She flinched and then bit her lip uneasily. “Okay.”
I nodded and spun on my heel, heading back into the bar to get on with it. I saw Jo sidle up to Craig and whisper something to him. His head whipped around to stare at me.
“Joss, what the fuck is going on with you, sweetheart?”
I flipped him off as an answer.
Craig shot Jo a look. “I don’t think she wants to talk about it.”
* * *
To my utter shock, Braden was waiting outside of Club 39 for me. My shift had whipped by in a blur. I couldn’t even remember doing anything, so it took me a moment to come out of the fog and recognize him. He stood leaning against the wrought-iron railing, unshaved, staring down at the ground in grim contemplation, his hands shoved into the pockets of his smart, double-breasted wool coat. He turned as I stepped up onto the sidewalk and I almost flinched at the sight of him. His hair was more unkempt than usual, his eyes dark and blo
odshot.
For a moment, I almost forgot that everything we’d had these last few months no longer existed. It was buried under the steel trap door. I crossed my arms over my chest, frowning up at him. “Shouldn’t you be with Ellie?”
Braden’s gaze was probing as he looked down at me. My heart hurt. He looked so young and vulnerable. I didn’t like seeing him like that. “I gave her a little whiskey. She cried herself to sleep. I thought I’d come get you.”
“You should have stayed with her.” I made to walk past him and he grabbed my arm tight, almost painfully, hauling me to a stop.
When I looked up at him, he looked less vulnerable and more pissed off. This was a Braden I recognized, and strangely, felt easier dealing with. “Like you should have stayed this afternoon?”
“I had stuff to do,” I replied blankly.
His eyes narrowed as he pulled my body into his. Like always I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “You had stuff to do?” he asked in furious disbelief. “You had a fucking friend who needed you. What the hell was that, Jocelyn?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He shook his head slowly. “Don’t,” he whispered hoarsely, dipping his head so our noses were almost touching. “Don’t do this. Not now. Whatever shit your spinning in that head of yours, stop. She needs you, babe.” He swallowed hard, his eyes glimmering in the streetlights. “I need you.”
I felt that familiar choking in the bottom of my throat. “I didn’t ask you to need me,” I whispered back.
I saw it. The hurt flickered across his face before he quickly banked it. Abruptly, he let go of me. “Fine. I don’t have time for your multitude of emotional issues. I have a wee sister who may or may not have brain cancer, and she needs me, even if you don’t. But I’ll tell you something, Jocelyn,” he stepped forward, pointing a finger in my face, his own hardened with anger, “If you don’t see her through this, you’ll hate yourself for the rest of your life. You can pretend that you don’t give a shit about me, but you can’t pretend Ellie means fuck all to you. I’ve seen you. Do you hear me?” He hissed, his hot breath blowing across my face, his words cutting through my soul. “You love her. You can’t sweep that under the rug because it’s easier to pretend she means nothing to you than it is to bear the thought of losing her. She deserves better than that.”
On Dublin Street (9781101623497) Page 25
