As a patient, you either came to live or you came to die.
I stumbled through the doors of the emergency room wing, drunk off my despair. The girl at the desk—with the pretty red hair—looked up and smiled. How could anyone smile right now?
“Katarina Werner,” I said. “Where is she?”
The girl tapped at her keyboard, frowned at the screen, and took too long to tell me where my best friend was. “She’s in surgery right now. The waiting room is right through those doors.” She nodded. “It might be a few hours, though.”
I’d never been the one in the waiting room before.
Kat’s parents were there, and after an hour, her brother was, too. So it was the four of us sitting, then standing, pacing, and sitting again. The three of them had matching faces. Wide eyes that weren’t actually looking at anything. Tight lips and even tighter jaws. I wondered if mine matched theirs, too.
Fiddling with my phone, I considered calling my parents, but I could barely speak without my voice breaking, so I decided to wait until Kat was out of surgery and I had good news to tell them.
“They were T-boned,” Kat’s dad said at one point. “Out of nowhere.”
But can anything actually come out of nowhere? A giant, hulking car doesn’t simply appear out of thin air. Matt was driving, so he wasn’t looking. Or he didn’t look properly. Or maybe it was the other driver’s fault—maybe he was speeding or ran a red light. Or maybe Matt was drunk.
It didn’t matter.
Matt’s small four-door car was smashed by a massive truck, and that was the only fact that did matter. Kat’s side took most of the damage, but they were both in critical condition, so who cared whose fault it was.
I only wanted Kat to be okay, to be alive.
The TV in the corner played a cartoon I didn’t recognize. I watched the screen but didn’t pay any real attention. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Probably another text from Jake, but since I didn’t have a response for him, I ignored it.
Mrs. Werner sat next to me, put her hand on mine, and squeezed. She left her fingers on top of mine, and we waited.
I tapped my foot against the tile. Was this how my parents felt when I was in surgery getting a new heart? I’d always known it was hard for them—thought I knew—but I hadn’t given them nearly enough credit.
Waiting to hear if someone you love is still alive was an excruciating task.
Midnight came and passed.
So did 1:00 a.m.
I was about to pull out my phone when a doctor with salt-and-pepper hair stepped through a set of double doors. Mrs. Werner stood, but I couldn’t get my feet to move. I couldn’t even keep my eyes on the doctor’s face. This was it—what we’d been waiting for.
The moment violent sobs filled the mostly empty waiting room, I knew.
My chest collapsed in on itself, crumbling, breaking apart. Hearing the words out loud would destroy me—it would make it real. It couldn’t be real.
But it was.
Kat was dead.
Chapter Fourteen
They say the first stage of grief is denial.
They were so fucking wrong.
The moment I found out Kat was dead, the foundation of my life crumbled, and my heart might as well have been failing. She’d never breathe again, never smile again. I’d never see her again. That wasn’t denial.
It was complete truth. Complete understanding. But humans, well, I don’t think we were built to handle that. So denial took over, covered the wound, and masked the pain. But there was that moment in the beginning—a lightning strike of feeling, mercifully quick, when I heard the news and stared into the blackness, and horrible as it was, understood everything.
It was three fifteen in the morning, and I’d stumbled my way back to Jake’s apartment. My parents were out of state for the weekend, and I had no other friends, so where else could I go? There was no way I was going back to the dorm room Kat and I shared. No way I’d spend the night staring at her things, thinking of how only a few hours ago, she was alive, and now she wasn’t.
Down the hall from Jake’s, I leaned against the wall and called my mom. She didn’t answer, as expected, but I left a short message so she wouldn’t see a late-night missed phone call and worry something happened to me. “I’m okay” were the first words out of my mouth, but it was a complete lie. I wasn’t okay, and something did happen to me.
I’d lost my best friend.
Ambling slowly down the hall, I wiped under my eyes and tried to breathe. Through Jake’s door, I listened to his clock tick, tick, ticking as I stood, numb, on his doorstep. Finally I knocked.
He opened his door like he’d been expecting me. “Are you okay?”
I stared, and the words I couldn’t say formed a lump in my throat. I shook my head, tears darting down my cheeks.
When Jake wrapped his arms around me, ran his hand over my hair, and whispered something meant to be soothing, I only cried harder.
I wiped my eyes and blinked at the walls around me—the ones covered in black-and-white photographs. I’d been preoccupied enough to not realize Jake had maneuvered me inside his apartment.
A crying girl in the middle of the night was likely not something he wanted to deal with.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, wiping at my eyes again.
“Sorry for what?” He sat on the couch, guiding me down next to him.
“For being here. I’m sorry. I was leaving—dammit, I was leaving.” I said it more to myself, pressing the heels of my palms against my swollen eyes.
The world wasn’t right. Not right. Not right.
It would never be right again.
“Audra.” His soft and gentle voice started a fresh batch of tears. “Tell me what happened.”
Remembering to breathe, I nodded and tried to put the details together in my brain. “I should’ve gone with her. Maybe then—” My eyes burned, and my throat felt like someone had raked down all the walls. “Oh my God, it’s my fault, isn’t it?”
Jake placed his warm hands on my shoulders, gripping tightly enough to grab my attention. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I know it’s not your fault. It’s not, okay?”
“Kat is dead.” The words came out like a plea.
I’d had other things I planned to say—details about the wreck and the hospital—but the strangled sobs took over. Jake’s hands moved from my shoulders, pulling me against him. His embrace was warm, solid, and strong. Once I’d gained control of my crying, I managed to explain what happened—at least enough for him to understand.
I shook my head, his features blurred by my tears. “What if…what if—I should’ve gone with her. I should’ve—” Blinking, I tried to find his eyes, tried to focus on them. “Maybe I could’ve saved her.”
His forehead pinched together, and his gaze dipped down. “Yeah. Or maybe you’d both be dead.” Jake’s voice wasn’t so soft anymore. “But you’re not dead. And it’s not your fault.”
I heard his voice, but his words didn’t register. All I could think was this can’t be real. Over and over. This can’t be real! Everything hurt—my heart especially. The last time it had hurt this way was when Scott Lancaster broke up with me in the middle of senior year.
But this was worse.
Kat was like my girl boyfriend. My forever friend. Whatever. I loved her. We might as well have been sisters.
And now she was dead.
“It’ll be okay.” Jake’s soft voice was back.
“No. No, I don’t think so.”
He ran his hands down my arms—I’d forgotten he was still touching me. “You’re right.”
“What?” I croaked, watching him as his fingers moved along my skin.
“It’s all bullshit. People tell you how pain fades. Hurt and regret disappear. Missing someone ends. Everything will be okay. Things will get better.” He drew his hands back, shoving them into the pockets of his lounge pants. “But it’s not always true. People say those things because
we all want to believe those lies. It makes us feel better…you don’t deserve the lies.”
I wiped my cheeks and something like a laugh escaped my throat. “I did it. I played the song. I finally played that damn song all by myself, and you know who was there to hear it? No one. Not even Kat. Especially not you.” My heart pumped harder, angrier, but on the plus side, the tears stopped. “You didn’t show up for our lessons. You bailed on me after that line about not being one to break your word. You cut me out. Just like that. And now—”
Worried I might detonate at any moment, I snapped my mouth shut, scanning his pinched face, the sadness in his steely eyes.
“Audra,” he said slowly, cautiously. “Do you want to talk about your friend or do you want to talk about…us?”
Us? Ha! “Does it matter? My best friend is dead, and whatever we talk about isn’t going to change that.”
Don’t fall in love with maybe and supposed to.
“And I shouldn’t be here,” I said. “I shouldn’t have come back.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t go.”
“Why not?” I shoved off the couch, moving away from him and toward the door. “You left me.”
He didn’t move, didn’t try to stop me, but he said, “I know I’m an asshole. I’m sorry for that. I also know sorry is useless. And yeah, you can leave if you want. I deserve that. But I want you to stay.”
It was a miracle I hadn’t exploded and blown this building to smithereens.
I whirled around. “Why weren’t you there? Why weren’t you in the piano room?” It didn’t make sense to shoot my anger at Jake, but dammit, I wanted to blame someone for something. And if he hadn’t left me, maybe I would’ve felt like going to that stupid party, and maybe Kat would still be alive.
My chin quivered, and I sniffled. Jake’s mouth fell open, but then he pressed his lips together and bowed his head.
“You were right when you said it wasn’t fair. For it to only be on my terms, what I wanted. You…you don’t deserve that. I meant it when I said I’m no good for anything else. I want to be good enough to be your friend.” He swallowed, looking away, pulling his hands free from his pockets. “I want to be good enough to be more than your friend, but I can’t. I thought it would be easier this way—to give you an out.”
The breath I took in tore at my lungs, ripped at my sore throat. “I didn’t want an out, Jake.”
It took him a full minute to respond. “Maybe not then. Maybe not now. But one day, you’ll be glad to have taken it.”
“What, you can see the future now?” I eyed the door again. “You’re not a fucking Magic 8 Ball. You can’t assume things like that.”
“I kind of can.”
Fine. “I’m leaving.”
I stood, spun for the door, and marched three steps, reached for the handle, and tripped over a shoe lying haphazardly on the floor. I stumbled forward, my hands outstretched to brace my fall.
Holding back a scream, I twisted onto my butt and leaned against the wall. I hugged my elbows, feeling like a giant popped balloon. My grand exit had been destroyed—completely and utterly. How unfair.
As if that mattered.
As if any of this mattered. Kat went somewhere without me and was never coming back.
If I’d convinced her to stay in, watch a few movies, and eat too much popcorn and ice cream… Maybe I could’ve done something different.
I should’ve.
The ache crept back into my chest, seeping heartache and sorrow through my pores. God, would this awful feeling ever go away?
My cheeks were wet again. They hadn’t been a second ago, when I’d been heading for the door. Fuck, I was so done with the crying.
“Audra?”
And Jake was there, and I still hadn’t left. Everything was wrong.
“I can’t believe she’s—” The word lodged in my throat, choking me like a violent, angry hand.
He slid down the wall beside me and spread out his arms, inviting me in, and my first thought was how I didn’t want that.
But I did.
So I collided into his chest, let him rub his hand up and down my back, and I cried, convinced it would never stop.
“I know it hurts,” he whispered into my ear. “I’m sorry for that. But I’m here and—and I’m sorry I wasn’t before.”
I meant to move my head, or say something, but I couldn’t without restarting the waterworks. Any other night, I would’ve tried to decipher exactly what he meant. I could’ve and would’ve spent hours on it. But this wasn’t any other night.
It was the night the world broke my heart.
Chapter Fifteen
For ten glorious seconds, I was unaware of anything but the feel of a down pillow and cool air. But then my eyes fluttered open and I remembered. The pain returned slowly, aching through every part of my body and soul until everything went numb.
I rolled over, focused on the walls that were white like mine, but not mine. Jake’s room. Jake’s bed. Alone.
Guess I thought I’d only dreamed he carried me. I wanted to smile, but my numbness prevented the action.
I found my phone on the pillow next to me. Picking it up, I scrolled through my missed calls and missed texts. I also noted the time. Two thirty? In the afternoon?
With the curtains drawn, the room remained mostly dark. The bed cradled me, tempting me to stay cloaked in its warm embrace. But as much as I wanted to hide, I didn’t, and instead found my way to the living room, wishing I could teleport out of the apartment and not face Jake. Not after all the crying.
He sat on the couch, staring at his laptop, but when I walked in, he shoved it aside.
“Don’t ask me if I’m all right,” I whispered.
He averted his gaze. “Are you hungry?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You should probably eat something.”
I stared, but he still wasn’t looking. “Thank you.”
That got him to look. “For what?”
For listening to me cry for hours on end. For holding me when I really needed it. For carrying me to bed. “For being here.”
With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, Jake looked like I’d insulted him, rather than thanked him. “Is it really enough?”
I took in a breath and was properly reminded of the beating my lungs took last night. “I don’t know…I should probably go. My mom’s been calling…and Kat’s mom—”
Jake moved off the couch, and I noticed the T-shirt he wore—the same one he had on the day we met.
Feeling the pressure start between my ribs, I darted for my purse, shoved my phone inside, and slipped on my shoes. My head couldn’t handle any more. Neither could my heart.
He rubbed the side of his jaw, nodding. “All right.”
I hesitated on my way to the door as I tried to keep my shit together. I could break down later.
Jake pushed aside the hair falling onto his forehead and looked up, met my gaze—that was all it took. Tears pricked at my eyes, and a slow burning began at the back of my throat.
“Bye,” I said, trying not to choke.
I headed for the door and didn’t look back, didn’t pause to see what his face looked like, see if the space between his eyes crinkled with sadness or regret.
My confusion and feelings for Jake would have to wait for another day—a less shit-filled one.
…
Almost twenty-four hours passed, and the crying became tiring and annoying, making my eyes puffy and red. I sat on my bed, leaning against the wall, Mister Yellow Blanket wrapped over my legs. The phone went off a few times, but I ignored it, choosing instead to sit like a statue and stare at nothing.
Her name would never show up on my caller ID.
I’d never get to talk to her again. Never get to see her again—not alive, anyway.
She’d never laugh, or roll her eyes, or get to do any of the things she might have put on a done-it list.
I shut my eyes, wishing I could sleep, just to
get a break.
Someone knocked on my door, and I almost threw a pillow at it. When whoever it was knocked again, I crawled off the bed and padded toward the door.
I honestly hadn’t expected to see Jake on the other side, standing a foot away from the door, hands in his pockets.
“Are you busy?” he asked.
“Depends on your definition, I guess.”
“You’re not busy. Come on.”
I raised a brow, watching his hand as he motioned with it. “Come on, what?”
He stepped closer, licking his lips and tilting his head. “Come with me. Please?”
“Where are we going?”
He almost smiled, doing that tiny quirk thing of his. And damn, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.
“All right,” I said. “It’s not like I’m sleeping anyway.”
Thirty minutes later, we were at an isolated spot in the middle of nowhere that resembled where he’d taken pictures before. This place had an equally awesome view but required less of a hike—and fewer hills—to reach it.
“If you take pictures of me like this, I’ll hurt you,” I said, staring up into the dark.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t bring my camera. Tonight, I have a different idea.” He stepped in front of me and reached into his bag, producing a bottle of liquor and a two-liter of Coke. “I think I know a thing or two. And one of those things is the appropriate time to get shit-faced.”
I choked out a laugh. “You brought me out here to get shit-faced?”
“And to talk.”
It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was good enough for me. “Is this another one of your beautiful places?”
“Sort of. It’s peaceful out here. Don’t you think?”
I nodded—not that there was an inkling of peace within me.
When he offered the bottle, I took it and slammed back a small shot. It burned my throat, traveled down to the pit of my empty stomach, instantly warming me from the inside. Good thing Kat had taught me how to take a shot—even if my glass was usually filled with OJ instead of alcohol. Like a guy, she’d said. Which I altered to be like a queen. Whenever we were doing shots, that was our toast.
The Heartbeat Hypothesis Page 12
