Just Look Up

by Courtney Walsh

She was winded from the uphill ride, and she was still wearing her Hazel’s uniform. “Walker Jones just came to see me at work.”

  Ryan’s gut twisted. “Why?”

  “Ryan, he thinks you know something about Nate’s accident that you’re not telling. He’s even wondering if you made up the whole story about the truck because you don’t have any details about it.” Hailey’s brow knit into a tight line.

  “Well, that’s just stupid,” Ryan said.

  “What if he starts thinking you actually caused it?” Her face fell. “Ryan, what if Nate doesn’t survive and they try to blame you for his death?”

  Ryan rubbed his hand over his stubbled chin. There was obviously no evidence Ryan was responsible for the accident—so why did he suddenly feel nauseous?

  “Ryan?” Hailey’s voice kicked up a notch, the way it sometimes did when she was scared. “It wasn’t your fault, was it?”

  “How can you even ask me that?” He shook his head.

  “I don’t know—you’re acting weird. Walker said if Nate wakes up and tells a different story than you’re telling, then they’re going to charge you with reckless driving or something.”

  Why couldn’t Walker just leave it alone?

  “Noah is the one pushing for answers,” Hailey said.

  “Did Walker tell Noah his theory?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hailey, I didn’t cause the accident.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “Dad did.”

  Her face went blank, the color rushing from her cheeks. “What did you say?”

  He explained what he remembered—how he wasn’t sure at first, but that he’d gone to confront Martin and now he was certain. It was their father who had put Nate Kelley in the hospital. Their father was the reason their friend was fighting for his life.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “He begged me not to turn him in, and I told him he had one week to do it himself. Then Lane collapsed and we started working and everything went sideways. It just kept getting pushed to the back burner, and I know that’s no excuse, but I was planning to tell Walker everything. I gave Dad plenty of time to step up and confess. If I turn him in, he’ll go to jail, Hailey.”

  “Where he belongs.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

  “I know, but it’s not that simple. He’s still our dad.”

  “He ruined our lives, Ryan. How many times did he come home drunk and use you for a punching bag? He’s the reason Mom left. He’s the reason I’ve never had a normal relationship in my life.”

  All true. All horribly, unspeakably true.

  “And what do you mean ‘Lane collapsed’? Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. It was a stress thing, and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, so keep it to yourself.”

  “What do you think she’s going to say when she finds out you’ve been hiding this from her?”

  Ryan looked away. He didn’t want to think about that—not when their relationship was so new, so fragile. He should’ve told her right away. Why hadn’t he just told her?

  Before he could formulate a response, the front door opened and Lane—beautiful Lane—walked onto the porch, pulling their attention from the tense conversation.

  “Ryan,” Lane said, eyes full of tears.

  “What is it?”

  Her face lit with a bright smile. “Nate just woke up.”

  Word must’ve spread quickly through town because the waiting room on the third floor of Harbor Pointe Hospital was packed. Friends, family, familiar and unfamiliar faces—the whole place was buzzing with activity and everyone wanted to know if Nate was going to be okay.

  Lane had shot off the elevator as soon as the doors opened, with Ryan and Hailey close behind.

  “I’ll go to the waiting room,” Hailey said, turning left toward the noisy crowd, which no doubt included half the high school faculty and the entire basketball team. Ryan followed Lane toward Nate’s room.

  Fortunately the two-visitors-only rule hadn’t been enforced for a while.

  They rounded the corner and turned in to the room where Nate had lain unresponsive for more than two weeks. Lane’s parents flanked the bed, both looking flushed and grateful, tears of relief in their eyes. Noah and Jeremy stood at the foot of the bed, with Lindsay off to the side, and Nate sat propped at an angle.

  Lane’s eyes welled with fresh tears and she covered her face. Her brother gave a tired smile but didn’t speak.

  “His throat is very sore.” Dottie’s voice wobbled. “From the tube.”

  Lane rushed to his bedside and hugged him. “Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

  “He’s not brain-damaged if that’s what you’re thinking,” Jeremy said.

  “That’s not funny, Jer,” Dottie scolded.

  “Thank God,” Lane said. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  Nate attempted to clear his throat. “You’re here.” His voice was hoarse and the words came out as a whisper.

  “I couldn’t leave you—not till I knew you were okay. Pretty hard to see Superman lying in a hospital bed.” She wiped her cheeks dry.

  Nate’s gaze made its way over to Ryan, and he softly shook his head. “You okay?”

  All eyes turned to Ryan. “Don’t worry about me, man. I’ve recovered. We’re just glad you’re back.”

  Lane looked at her mom. “When did he wake up?”

  “I tried calling you earlier,” Dottie said. “It might’ve been the first time I actually wanted you on your phone. It all happened so fast.” She squeezed Nate’s hand. “He’s going to be all right.”

  Ryan let out a heavy sigh. “I’m so relieved.”

  “Look, Brooks, maybe you should go.” Noah took a threatening step toward Ryan.

  “Noah!” Dottie put a hand on her oldest son’s bulky arm. “Ryan is a part of this family. He is more than welcome to stay.”

  “Is he, Ma? Part of the family?”

  Ryan swallowed, his throat dry.

  “What is wrong with you, Noah?” Lane straightened. “You’re being really rude.”

  “Do you have something you want to tell your family, Brooks?” Noah crossed his arms and glared at Ryan. They were all watching him, waiting for an explanation they didn’t even know they needed.

  “What are you getting at, Noah?” Jeremy asked.

  “Walker thinks our friend here is hiding something. Thinks maybe Ryan is responsible for the accident. Nate can’t remember, so we’ve got nothing but Ryan’s word.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Lane said.

  Noah’s glare was still locked on Ryan like a sniper who had him in his sights. “You got anything to say for yourself, Brooks?”

  Ryan looked around the circle, all eyes on him. Everyone waiting for an answer to a question he didn’t remember. While he hadn’t caused the accident, was he responsible somehow? Was the distraction of Newman, with all its ghosts, enough to have made Ryan a poor driver? He’d given his dad money over the years—what if that money had gone to buy the liquor that night?

  He couldn’t say for sure that he wasn’t responsible. At the very least, he’d known more than he let on, and he could see now that his silence had caused the Kelleys pain. He’d almost told them several times, but something had always gotten in his way.

  Noah crossed the hospital room and got right in Ryan’s face. “You better go.”

  Lane tried to pull her brother away, but he didn’t move.

  He glanced at Nate. “I’m sorry, man.”

  Lane’s mouth opened and Dottie let out a slight gasp. Before he had to see any more of the disappointment on their faces, he turned and walked out into the hallway, every ounce of oxygen rushing from his body. He forced himself to breathe—a deep, controlling breath—but it did nothing to calm his nerves or chase the nausea away.

  His father’s actions had stolen everything away from him. Again.

  Somehow he’d figured out how to manage that when he was younger, but the stakes were so much higher
this time.

  And as he walked down the hallway, the weight of what he stood to lose followed him like a heavy burden he wasn’t able to carry.

  CHAPTER

  35

  LANE STAYED AT THE HOSPITAL long enough to hear Noah’s case against Ryan—a case it sounded like he’d been building for several days now, no doubt with Walker’s help.

  She didn’t want to believe any of it, but what if it was true? What if Ryan had caused the accident?

  “You don’t remember anything, Nate?” Lane asked. “I can’t imagine that Ryan would keep this a secret. He’s not the type not to own up to his mistakes.”

  “If his mistakes landed him in jail, he might be,” Noah said.

  “Why are you being like this, No?” Lane asked. “This is Brooks. We’ve known him since we were kids.”

  “All the more reason he should’ve come clean.”

  “All right, enough,” Dottie said. “We aren’t in the habit of pointing fingers.”

  “He practically admitted it, Ma,” Noah said, hands on his hips like he had something to prove.

  “You didn’t give him much of a chance to defend himself,” Dottie said. “If he was responsible, I’m sure there’s an explanation. It’s not like he set out to run Nate into a telephone pole.”

  A nurse entered the room, a scowl on her face. “I’m sorry. He really needs to get some rest.”

  “Are you kidding?” Noah huffed. “He’s been asleep for almost three weeks straight.”

  “Dude.” Jeremy shot Noah an irritated look intended to shut him up, but when Noah was angry, he was immune to that sort of thing.

  “You can come back in the morning,” the nurse said and strode back down the hall.

  They all said good-bye to Nate, leaving Lane at the end of the line. She walked over to his bed, sat down, and hugged him again, his arm limp on her back, no strength to speak of.

  “Try to get some rest,” she said. “And if you can remember what happened, I think that would be really good right about now.”

  He nodded, then squeezed her hand. “Glad you’re here.”

  She smiled. “Me too.” So glad. It shamed her to think that she’d almost missed this because of work. She stayed still for a long moment.

  “What is it?”

  “I was just thinking about the night you and Brooks dragged me out back to tip cows with you.”

  Nate’s laugh quickly turned into a cough.

  “And the weekend we were camping at the lake and you put a frog in Mom’s sleeping bag.”

  “You’ve had a while to walk down memory lane.” He strained when he spoke as if it really hurt his throat.

  She nodded. “All the times you invited me places with your popular friends or came home early because you knew I’d spent another Friday night by myself. You always watched out for me. You were one of the only people who didn’t seem to care that I was a social outcast.”

  It was good to watch him inhale and exhale without the help of a machine.

  “I’m sorry I threw that all away.”

  “You didn’t,” he whispered. “You just took a break.”

  She smiled, her eyes cloudy. “Well, I’m back now, okay?”

  He nodded.

  Commotion in the hallway drew their attention, and Lane turned to find Betsy standing in the doorway. Her face was as white as the whipped cream on the tops of her famous pies.

  “Someone said you were awake.” Betsy stood unmoving as if her feet were frozen in place.

  “Bets.” He said her name so quietly Lane wondered if Betsy heard him.

  “You’re awake.” Betsy clapped a hand over her mouth and burst into tears. “Oh, thank God.”

  “Betsy?” Lane walked toward her and took her by the arm, and as she led her into the room, Betsy’s knees buckled and she almost collapsed.

  Had Betsy and Nate become close since Lane left?

  “I’ve been praying every day that you would wake up, that you would be okay. I’ve been so worried.” Her voice was shaky, bordering on hysterical, as she released emotions that seemed to have been locked up for days. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

  Nate lifted his hand slightly, and she stared at it as if she didn’t dare touch him.

  “It’s okay, Betsy,” Lane said. “He can’t really talk because he was intubated for so long. His throat is really sore.”

  Nate gave her a tired smile and Betsy took his hand in both of hers and pressed it to her mouth. Lane felt her eyebrows shoot up.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been over to visit at all,” Betsy said, still worked up. “I was afraid to come. I was afraid seeing you like this would be too much to handle, but I realize now I should’ve been here. I should’ve been here the whole time. I’ve been such an idiot, Nate—a really stupid idiot—but . . .” She seemed to be working up her courage for something important. Lane had never seen Betsy like this. “The truth is, Nate Kelley . . .” She swallowed. “Well, the truth is, I love you.”

  Lane’s eyes widened. What? Betsy loved Nate?

  “I’ve always loved you. Sorry, Lane.” Betsy tossed her a look, then refocused on Nate, this newfound boldness clearly something she wanted to hold on to. “And I don’t even care if you don’t feel the same way about me. I’m just glad you’re okay. I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

  When Nate swallowed, it looked like it hurt, and it took several long seconds that must’ve been painstaking for Betsy. Finally he looked up at her, the trace of a smile on his lips. “I do,” he whispered.

  Betsy stilled, eyes on their hands but slowly moving toward Nate’s. “You do what?”

  “Feel the same.”

  She gasped. “You do?”

  He squeezed Betsy’s hand, and though his eyes looked heavy and tired, he appeared genuinely happy. He nodded. “For a long time.”

  Betsy shook her head. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me?” She leaned toward him.

  He only shrugged. “I guess I was scared.”

  Lane squeezed Betsy’s arm. “I’m going to leave you two.” She smiled. “But you should know that this—” she waved her hand between the two of them—“makes me very happy.”

  Lane’s happiness for Betsy and Nate almost made her forget her confusion and sadness over what had happened only moments before with Brooks.

  Almost.

  She couldn’t make sense of Noah’s accusations, and she needed to believe they weren’t true. But Ryan hadn’t denied it—even she had to admit he’d looked guilty. She hadn’t wanted to believe Brooks would hide something—not from her—but she might have been blinded once again.

  She knew the familiar sting of betrayal all too well. Had she been a fool to believe Ryan was different?

  Her head was spinning, and though she half expected him to be waiting at the cottage when she got there, she was a bit relieved to find it empty. She needed time to think, to process.

  They’d gotten so close so quickly, spending this past week together, working on the cottages, eating meals together. They’d gone to Jack’s birthday party together, run on the trail, shopped for the cottages. And he’d never mentioned anything about his role in Nate’s accident.

  Had Noah’s near-obsessive need to find whoever was responsible scared him silent? Was he the reason her brother had nearly died?

  Her heart lurched at the thought. She’d trusted him cautiously, believing that he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Had she made a terrible mistake?

  Lane went inside and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. It was past dinnertime, and she wondered where Brooks was. Perhaps his absence was the only answer she needed.

  The knock on the door startled her. She drew in a deep breath.

  Brooks.

  She pulled the door open, expecting to see him standing there with explanation in hand, but instead she saw an older man wearing baggy jeans and a dusty tan-colored coat, toothpick dangling from the side of his mouth.

&nbs
p; “Can I help you?” Lane kept the door in front of her as if that were any protection. Why hadn’t she checked to see who was there before opening it?

  The man eyed her. “Where’s Ryan?” he growled, the stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke accosting her nostrils.

  “He’s not here,” Lane said. “Can I give him a message? I’ll see him tomor—”

  “Ryan!” he yelled into the house. “I know you’re in there!”

  “Sir, I’m sorry; he’s not here.” Lane’s pulse quickened.

  “Let me see my son!” He pushed on the door, and though his speech was slurred, he was still stronger than Lane, who stumbled back and fell into the stairs.

  This was Ryan’s father?

  Lane could picture Ryan as a young boy, cowering as she was now, struggling to get away from this man’s angry clutches, and her heart filled with sadness and fear. She’d been teased, sure, but this was something else entirely.

  She’d never let herself imagine his life, always assumed it was bad and left it at that. But this? How was it possible this hadn’t ruined him?

  Lane scrambled to her feet as the man stormed through the cottage. He stumbled into a vase on a table and knocked it to the floor, where it shattered.

  “Ryan! Get out here, Son!”

  Lane raced after him, heart pounding, pulse like a metronome in her ears. “Mr. Brooks, he’s not here.”

  Ryan’s dad was standing in the kitchen, growing more and more agitated, his balance questionable. “Where is he?” He turned to Lane, his eyes dark.

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him for an hour or so.”

  He sized her up as he took a few steps toward her. “You his girlfriend?”

  “I’m his friend.”

  “Yeah, right,” he snarled. “Take a good look, sweetheart. See what you’re in for if you stay with my son.”

  Lane steeled her jaw, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “Your son is nothing like you.”

  He squinted at her, then let out a loud, drunken laugh, stumbling forward, knocking into her. She caught the weight of him and tried to push him back to a standing position, but his body had gone limp and he slipped farther forward as if he’d fallen asleep.