by Clara Stone
The moment we arrive at the ER, Blake and Hope are taken into the hospital and separate rooms. One of the doctors grabs me, forcing me to sit so they can examine me. I tell them that I’m fine. I just need to see them. Hope and Blake.
“You need to calm down.” The doctor works without missing a beat. “They’ll be fine. Just let me make sure you’re okay first, okay?”
It must be exhaustion or defeat, but whatever it is, I’m rooted to the gurney they leave me on. Everything aches, inside and out. Hell, even breathing hurts; I feel painful jabs with every inhale and exhale.
The reality of possibly losing them both . . . I shake my head. I think. I can’t think straight. Doubt and sadness fill every pore of my being, and all I can do is try to think through what I could have done differently. Maybe I should have driven Jags right into him, or maybe, if I didn’t stop at that last yellow light, I could have saved them. There are so many things I could’ve avoided. God, what I’d do for another chance. I roar as a wave of indescribable emotion rolls through me. I curl into a ball and cry. I don’t register time, or even where I’m at.
Then a familiar voice reaches my ears. I slowly sit up and pull the curtains apart. Ms. Voss barrels into the ER, yelling for Blake. When she sees me, she runs over, fear in her eyes.
“Where is she? Where’s Blake . . .?”
I look down, unable to meet her gaze. Emotions wrap around my throat in a vice grip, making it impossible to swallow.
“Damn it, Hudson. Just tell me—”
“Ms. Voss?” a nurse asks.
“Yes! Yes!” Ms. Voss turns, tears rolling down her face.
“Please come with me,” I hear her say, and they walk away. As soon as she’s out of my hearing, I realize I haven’t called Hope’s parents.
Fuck.
That should have been my first priority—calling Blake and Hope’s parents. I’m a fucking failure. I can’t do even one thing right. But before I can make the call to Hope’s parents, they walk through the ER doors, similar to Ms. Voss, only they’re holding each other’s hand, like they might fall if they don’t.
I slide down off the gurney and walk slowly over to them.
“Hudson,” Hope’s dad says. “Is Hope . . . ?”
Just then, another doctor stops behind us, and I turn around. “I was told you came in with Hope? From the scene of the incident?”
I nod.
“What happened? Is our baby okay?” Hope’s mom asks.
“Hope’s parents,” I say, when the doctor looks at me for confirmation.
“Mr. and Mrs. Dyer,” the doctor says. “Please have a seat.” She points to the chair behind her.
And suddenly, I know. I know what she’s about to say with a certainty that falls into my chest like an anvil, tearing a hole so big, all emotion vanishes. I’m empty. And I don’t want to hear the doctor say it. Slowly, I walk toward the room they took Hope to. I see her body lying there, tubes and needles sticking out of her; the people around her are moving away, shaking their heads like they’ve given up. And I’m numb. I feel nothing. No pain. No despair. Just nothing. She’s gone. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
I can’t be here. I need air. I need out. I turn around and run away from my best friend.
I run so fast, I don’t realize I’m halfway down the street and about to run right into traffic until it’s nearly too late. I stop, a breath short from getting hit by a bus, wheezing as I try to catch air I don’t think I’ll ever have again.
Then I fall to the ground and cry, the pain of my heart rippling in the echoes of the evening sky.
IT DOESN’T MATTER how long you’ve known someone. If it’s meant to be, you’ll be drawn to them in ways no religion can explain, no laws of science can dissect.
Thirty-six hours have never seemed longer. I’m exhausted and empty of tears. I take Blake’s hand in mine, my fingers slowly caressing her knuckles. I bring them to my mouth and kiss them gently. A small, groggy sound escapes her lips. I look up as her eyes flutter, and she starts to wake.
“Hi,” I say, as she slowly opens her eyes.
A small smile appears. “Hi,” she croaks.
“Hi,” I say again, and then laugh. A thin, hollow sound, but it’s all I can muster. I get up and lean toward her. I trace my hand down her cheek, and then cup it. “How are you feeling?”
She groans when she shifts her weight.
“Easy there.” I tighten my grip on her hand, torn between wanting to help her sit up and restraining her to the bed.
“I want to sit up.” She winces, trying to reach for the handles on her hospital bed. Before she can hurt herself, I grab the remote and adjust it so that she’s lying on an incline.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
When I know she’s comfortable and isn’t going to move, I reach for the jug with water, pour a glass, and offer it to her. She takes it and sips slowly. “Thanks. Again.”
I give her a tight-lipped smile and nod. I’m itching to find out what happened. Why, when I’d rounded the corner onto Blake’s street, that psychopath Trey had a gun pointing at the only two girls I loved more than anything else.
“How’s Hope?” Blake’s question takes me off guard.
The back of my throat tightens, and the tears I thought I exorcised start to make an appearance once again. “Hope . . .” I choke on her name as pain seers through me.
“Hudson. What happened?” Blake’s voice slices through me.
I shrug. “Both of you got shot. And . . . Hope . . .” My voice catches on a sob, and I look away from her, trying to keep the floodgates from opening. I can’t say it.
Tears roll down her cheeks, and her hand covers her mouth. Her head is shaking. “No. NO.” She extends her good arm and says, “Come here.”
I go willingly, climbing in next to her. This probably isn’t the best thing to do, but . . .
“I’m so sorry, Hudson.”
My shoulders shake as I tighten my grip around her. I know I need to be careful with Blake, but I need this. I bury my face in her neck and let the tears consume me again. Hope has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. And now . . . now . . . she’s gone. She left me here to fend for myself. I know I look weak and vulnerable, when I should be strong and more put together for Blake. But I can’t help it. Not when Blake strokes my hair, kissing my forehead, her own tears spilling freely. I’ll probably get kicked out soon for making the patient cry, but I need this.
Surprisingly, no one comes. An hour later, Ms. Voss finally appears, back from the break I asked her to take earlier.
“Blake,” she says, her voice a hoarse whisper. “You’re awake.” She rushes to her daughter’s side. I slowly pull myself away from Blake’s embrace, but before I’m completely free, Blake grips my fingers. “Stay.”
I look to her mom, then back at her. “I’m not going anywhere. Promise. I just need a bathroom break.”
She nods.
I quickly step out of the room and take a walk around the hospital, making sure to give Blake and her mom some time to talk. I still have so many questions. What happened? How did Trey get so close to her? Did he—I can’t even finish that thought. Because in truth, I don’t know what I’d do to him. No prison would be safe. I’d make sure he paid. Not just for what’s he done to Vicki. But to Blake. To Hope.
I take a moment to call Hope’s parents. I spent the better half of my last twenty-four hours bouncing between Hope’s family and Blake’s. I’m exhausted, but I have responsibilities, things I need to prep for Hope’s memorial. I let Hope’s parents know how sorry I am that I couldn’t save her, for the millionth time, and that if there’s anything I can do for them, I’m here.
Once I end the call, I head back toward Blake’s room and see Vicki standing outside her door. She lifts her hand, ready to knock, but then lets it fall back down.
“Hey,” I say, coming to stand before her.
She looks up with her red, puffy eyes. She widens them, like she’s just
realized she’s been caught. Her gaze falls downward, shame written in the lines of her face.
“What are you doing here?” I snarl, lashing out at her. She cost me so much with her weakness. I know I shouldn’t feel this pain, let this anger build inside me. But I can’t help it. I’ll feel like shit for this in a day or two, but right now, she’s here, and I can’t fathom what she could possibly say to bring back my best friend.
I swallow, feeling the agony drip down my throat like acid. My best friend is gone. Dead.
“I’m sorry,” Vicki says. “After what happened, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, or Blake’s, or Ms. Voss’s, but I truly am sorry.”
I press my lips together, because right now, she’s the last person I want to talk to. I bite down on my tongue to stop myself from telling her how I really feel. Instead, I push past her. When she calls after me, I pause, my hand on the door handle.
“Hudson.” Her voice is small, quivering. “I know I don’t deserve your time, but . . .” She pauses, giving me a chance to look at her. I mean, really look at her, past the cloud of anger and pain distorting my vision.
“I’m sorry, Hudson.” She wipes the tears that are rolling down her cheeks with the back of her hand and then wipes it off on her pants.
Some of my anger dissolves. “Listen—”
“I should have gotten out when I had the chance. I just thought . . .” She finally looks up at me, sincerity pouring off her in buckets. It’s almost like her tears are washing away the words she needs to say. “I thought, since I stayed quiet about him and went back home, that he’d leave her alone. You know that’s the reason I went back to him, right? ”
This, I didn’t expect. Blake truly believed that Vicki had a strong reason to go back to that asshole. Turns out, she did. She tried to do the same thing I did. She went back to that masochistic bastard to protect Blake. How in the world am I supposed to be pissed at her now?
“And . . .” She sniffles, throwing her arms out, as if to say, “look at the mess I made.”
“Listen, Vicki,” I start. “I understand that you thought you had no choice, that you had to go back to him, and truthfully, I’m glad that you were protecting Blake. But it was still a stupid move. If you had only listened to her and let her help you, we could have avoided all of this.” And Hope would be alive. But I don’t say that. “I know, the moment you walk in that door, Blake will forgive you. She has a big heart. But . . .” I can’t believe I’m toying with what I’m about to say next. But I promised Blake, and I can’t let what happened to Vicki or Hope happen again.
“I know I’m late, and I can’t undo the past, but I finally listened, Hudson. I finally did what Blake’s been trying to get me to do for years now. I’m just sorry that it cost a life, and Blake getting shot, for me to get the courage. I’ve given a statement against Trey, and my stepfather.”
This is good. This makes my request that much less cruel. “I need something from you.”
Her eyes widen, and she replies without missing a beat: “Anything.”
Here goes. “I need you to give another statement, to help me make sure Trey doesn’t get out in this lifetime.”
She nods, and I tell her my plan, about the detective I hired, and the lawyers who will make sure he never leaves. Even if my dad doesn’t support me in this, I have a trust fund full of money that I came into when I turned eighteen. So money isn’t a problem, and neither is hiring the best damn criminal lawyer in the entire US. Trey’s as good as dead.
“Do you think Blake will see me?” Vicki asks.
“Only one way to find out.” I push open the door to see Ms. Voss and Blake talking. Both of them turn toward us. Blake’s face brightens, and tears brim her eyes. The moment Vicki steps inside, I know all is forgiven. It’s not as easy for me, but I’ll get there.
Maybe.
Someday.
Thirty minutes later, I return to Blake’s room. As soon as I step inside, I can see that the tension and sadness in Vicki’s earlier appearance is gone. In just those few minutes, she’s somehow transformed into a girl set on putting things right. I’m sure Blake has something to do with that.
“I can come back . . .” I start to close the door.
Ms. Voss quickly gets up. “No, no. Please stay. I need to go talk to the nurse anyway.”
“I should go too,” Vicki says, hopping to her feet. “I need to go back to the police station and give another statement.” She hugs Blake and walks out of the room.
Ms. Voss kisses Blake and whispers something to her. But before she exits the room, she stops before me and taps my cheek. “Thank you for protecting my daughter.”
I don’t know what to say, because I didn’t. I didn’t protect Blake. I didn’t protect Hope. If I had . . . this wouldn’t have happened. Blake wouldn’t be in the hospital, and Hope would still be alive.
“Don’t do that,” Blake says, watching me. “Don’t blame yourself for this. For what that coward did.”
I want to deny her claim. But I can’t. Because I am. I’m blaming myself for it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.
She sighs. “If anything, it’s my—”
I go to her so fast, she jerks back a little in surprise. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Blake.”
She smiles weakly. “I won’t, if you won’t. Because we’re both just as responsible for what happened.”
I nod, hesitant. I know she’s right. But it’s not easy. Just like I know it won’t be for her.
“How did you get to be so wise, firecracker?” I lean down and kiss her forehead, then pull back and look at her, taking in the bruise on her cheek, the white gauze around her head, and the scratches. “If you need to talk about . . .”
“Not right now.” She looks down nervously at her hands.
I nod. “Just tell me when you’re ready, and I’m here. I don’t know what the hell happened, but I swear to you, Blake, he’ll never see daylight ever again. I swear to you.”
She shakes her head, and her cheeks burn fiery red. “Let’s not talk about him, okay?”
I nod and slide onto the small sliver of bed beside her, cupping her face. “Just one last thing.”
She waits for me to continue, her eyes expectant.
“I know you’re a fighter, Blake. But don’t ever think you can’t talk to me. Whatever you went through, I want to be part of it. I know I can’t take away the pain. But if I could, I would.”
She swallows hard, her eyes studying me.
“Promise me, Blake.” I lean closer. “Promise me that you’ll talk to me when you’re ready.”
She nods, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Why do you care?” she asks.
“Because I do.”
“But I’m just a girl that came into your life, who you’ll soon leave behind when you’re off to college.”
I straighten my back. My heart constricts at her harsh words. Is that all she thinks of us?
“You know that isn’t true.” The words are laced with frustration and the fear of losing her again. I’m not ready to take that chance. I’d rather throw myself on the line and know that I laid my heart out to bleed, than hold it inside, hoping to protect it. Because if I don’t do anything, if I don’t say anything, there’s no value to my feelings. They might as well be discarded. If I’m not brave enough to say what I feel, then I don’t have the right to feel it.
“You aren’t just some girl that happened to come into my life, Blake. You’re the girl. You came blazing into my life and demanded that I fall fiercely in love with you. Not just kinda, not sorta. I’ve fallen so deep in love with you, that I know it’s more than love. It’s LOVE. It’s fierce. It’s more than anything I imagined my life would be filled with. I love you, Blake Voss.”
The beeping noises in the room start going insane. I glance at the monitors, the lines spiking like crazy. I look back at Blake, then to the monitors again. She looks calm as a potato, but the EKG . . .
I tilt my head to the side, confused. I barely register the two nurses that have come into the room.
“Tell me,” she demands.
“Tell you . . .”
“The last thing you said.”
The last thing I said? I think back to before the heart monitor took off. And it hits me.
“Everything okay in here?” the nurse asks. “Blake—”
“I love you, firecracker.” I know I’ve said the right thing when the monitors spike once more. I grab her hand. “I love you so much, that I can’t imagine what life was like before you, or what it’ll be after you.”
“I love you, Hudson,” Blake says. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
I’VE BEEN TAKEN to the recovery room, while Sparkler was taken to the NICU to help her breathe. It’s been hours, or so it feels. Hudson isn’t here either, and I’m starting to get really nervous. Just as I reach over to press the “Call Nurse” button, the door swings open, followed by a baby cart, a nurse, and finally, a grinning Hudson.
The nurse picks up Sparkler and hands her to him. “Congratulations, Mom,” she says to me. “You have a beautiful baby girl.”
Hudson’s cooing and looking at our princess the same way he looked at me the first day we met—like he’s been struck by lightning. “She’s got your eyes, firecracker.”
I pout.
“And your nose, and cheeks.”
“Let me have my daughter,” I say, pushing my lip out further.
He slowly leans toward me, bringing her over, his eyes never wavering from her cherub face. Then, just as he places her into my waiting, impatient arms, he looks at me. “But she’s not even close to how beautiful you look.” He kisses my mouth in a heady, smoldering way. I fight back a moan, entirely too grateful when he pulls back.
“I love you, Blake. Thank you for making me a father to our beautiful little Sparkler.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks, and I look away. A truckload of emotion floods into me and tears start to roll down my cheeks.
