Unbearable (the TORQUED trilogy Book 2)

by Shey Stahl

  I know there’s more. There always is with him. “And what about Sophie? That performance at the bar on New Year’s.” I whistle in a slow breath. “That was something else.”

  He rolls his eyes, showing his annoyance. “I know I’m fucking up. I don’t need a reminder.” He’s not making any excuses for his behavior; he usually doesn’t if you ask him, but then he sighs, his shoulders sagging. Knocking his hat off his head, he brings it down to his lap and groans. “I fucking love her so much but I can’t make myself take her back. Out of every girl I’m with, none compare to her. But I can’t. Every time I look at her, I think of her deliberately making that choice to break my heart.”

  “So why keep putting her through it, Rawley. Just end it completely and walk away. Don’t keep playing this game of push and pull. It makes you look like an asshole who’s purposely trying to hurt her now. Your point was made a long time ago.”

  “I know…. I don’t understand it myself.” His forehead creases in deep concentration. “I can’t end it with her. I would if I could but I can’t do it. I can’t get her out of my head. When I take a girl home, I only think about Sophie. It’s like every other girl is just trying to fill the aching void in my chest she created and it never works.” He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair and settling his hand on the back of his neck again. It’s a motion he does often, but it seems to ease his frustration. “Why’d she have to do it? Why?”

  He wants an answer and I can’t give it to him, just like I can’t give myself one as to why Tyler and I can’t work.

  “Rawley,” I begin, but then think about what I’m saying. “She made a mistake. Put yourself in her position if the tables were turned. You can’t constantly make her feel like you’re holding it over her head. People make mistakes and sometimes you have to forgive them. Holding a grudge over her makes you the weak one, which you’re finding out. It’s made you bitter and someone I barely recognize anymore. Forgive her or let her go.”

  Well fuck, maybe I should be taking my own advice here.

  He’s quiet, his gaze on the window and the smoke curling around the frame and then out the window with a breeze of crisp winter air. “Dad told me once that you can’t love someone until you’ve had to forgive them. Maybe he’s right.”

  I think he says that to me because we both needed to hear it. My mom always told us the best relationships are the ones that made it through darkness. The ones where people look at one another and see hurt and say, you’re worth it.

  Tyler’s face as he was leaving haunts me. Will we ever be at that point or did I ruin what we could have had?

  The thought that I ruined it with him is the worst feeling, one that gnaws at me all morning. He tried and I turned him away. For what?

  Well I know why but it still hurts to know he wants more and he can’t tell me why.

  A cool breeze blows through my room, chilling me as I curl into my pillow. When I open my eyes, I realize I left my window cracked this morning but the haze remains in my room.

  Rawley left at some point and I’m left staring at the window, wondering what to make of earlier this morning.

  I think of Tyler immediately and everything he said to me last night. I go over it all, every word and analyze it for its meaning. I’m also reminded, a stirring deep in my chest that I shouldn’t have let him leave last night. There was something off. He wasn’t drunk but the look in his eyes and the way he was shaking, it just wasn’t right. My concern though had been overridden by my need to protect myself and I ignored it. I’d selfishly wanted him gone so I’d pushed aside my own concern and let him go.

  I startle when my phone rings. As sad as it sounds, no one calls me anymore. Most communication with my family and friends is through text. Maybe it’s Tyler. He said not to answer his texts, but what if he calls?

  Sliding one arm out from under my blanket, I stretch across the bed for the phone. Peeking at the screen, I see it’s Red.

  Groaning dramatically into the receiver, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. “Why are you calling me this early?”

  “It’s ten in the morning, Raven.” He snorts. “Have you talked to Tyler lately?”

  My stomach jumps at his name, an indication that his effect on me will never go away. “Why?”

  “He didn’t show up for work.” The sounds of air tools and a lift being raised drown him out and it’s everything I can do to hear him. “Have you talked to him or not? I don’t have time. We’re fuckin’ swamped.”

  My heart pounds erratically, pressing the phone to my ear, struggling to hear him. “Well yeah, I saw him last night. He left about three.”

  Red’s quiet for a second and I hear him drop something. “Fuck. Did he say where he was going when he left? I went upstairs and the place is empty aside from an empty fifth of whiskey. He’s never not come to work. Do you have any idea where he may have gone?”

  Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of my bed. “Well, no, he left pissed off. We were arguing most of the night and when he left I just assumed he was headed home.”

  “Okay, I gotta go and call around. See if I can track his ass down.”

  “Wait, let me know when you find him.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Scrambling around my room, I throw on a pair of jeans and my Ducks hoodie and head for the door. I don’t know where I’m going but I can’t just sit in Eugene not knowing where he is or if he’s okay.

  That feeling I couldn’t shake when I woke takes over and roots itself deep in my chest. It hurts, a painful twist thinking he’s out there, possibly hurt because I didn’t take the time to make sure he was okay before he left.

  I know he’s an adult and is perfectly capable of taking care of himself but still, this is Tyler we’re talking about and I’m always going to care. Always. Regardless of anything that’s said or done between us. It’s different with him.

  I’m ten minutes outside of Eugene on the I-5 heading toward Lebanon when I hear my ringtone. Reaching inside my purse, I dig around for my cell phone, desperate to answer it before it stops ringing.

  When I glance at the screen, I see it’s Lenny calling and my hands shake as I bring the phone to my ear. “Lenny, tell me he’s okay.” There’s silence on the other end. I think I hear her sniffle but I’m too wound up to really notice.

  “I don’t know, Raven. His mom literally just called the shop and told Red that Tyler was in an accident. They wouldn’t give her much information over the phone other than he was airlifted to Portland.”

  Airlifted? Oh God. It must be serious. Red was airlifted after he was shot and he nearly died.

  “Did they say how badly he’s hurt? Is he okay?”

  She’s hesitant to answer. I know she’s struggling with the same fears I am because of what happened with Red. “Didn’t say. Red’s on his way to the hospital. I’m just waiting for Jude and Eldon to come down and help with the shop so I can leave.”

  “Lenny—” My voice breaks. “Please, if you know something, anything, I need you to tell me. How badly was he hurt? Is he gonna be okay?”

  She pauses again and it’s excruciating. “I’m telling you the truth, I don’t know. She didn’t say. Just that he was airlifted.”

  “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” I tell her.

  “No, pick me up. I’m gonna have Mia pick Nova up from school.”

  “Yeah, sure. Be there in like forty-five minutes.”

  I’m doing eighty on the freeway and I know I shouldn’t be, but I can just tell the cop it’s an emergency, right?

  When I arrive at the shop, skidding to a stop in the back parking lot, Lenny’s waiting outside for me, leaning against an old Mercury.

  Her eyes soften when she eases into the passenger seat. “I know it’s easier said than done, but let’s try and relax until we know what’s happening.”

  I don’t look at her as we’re pulling out of the parking lot. I can’t because I’ll cry. The tears are already there and I d
on’t want to break down. Crying right now would only lead me to thinking the worst and I won’t allow myself to go there, not yet.

  “This is all my fault,” I tell Lenny when we’re on the freeway again. “I shouldn’t have let him leave when he was so angry. I could tell something was off but I didn’t do anything about it.”

  Lenny reaches over, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Hey, stop thinking like that. There’s no way you could’ve predicted this would happen. Besides we all know how Tyler gets when he’s mad. It would have been nearly impossible for you to stop him from leaving if that’s what he wanted. He’s more stubborn than Red.”

  A painful lump fills my throat. Did he wreck because of me? Did he forget to take his medication again because of me? I remember seeing him after he had the seizure in the shop. There was blood soaking his face from a cut on his forehead. It was awful and when I asked him what happened he admitted he was so tired from us not getting any sleep the night before he forgot to take it in the morning.

  Annoyance claws at my skin, a sick lurch traveling through my stomach.

  As much as I feel responsible for this, a realization hits me. With him my life makes sense. The thought of my life without him, it’s unbearable.

  LENNY AND I RUSH inside the hospital two hours later after hitting traffic. It takes us another ten minutes to find Red upstairs in the waiting room for the ICU.

  “They haven’t said anything but he’s in surgery,” Red says, embracing Lenny when she wraps her arms around his waist. “Apparently he drove off the freeway somewhere near Brownsville and took out a barn and some fencing. Rolled the truck. A farmer found him unconscious but at least breathing on his own.” He gives a nod to two police officers sitting in the corner.

  I process what he’s saying for a moment. “He was drinking.” My voice trembles over the words.

  “Yeah, I gathered that much.” Red’s face flashes with anger. “Stupid son of a bitch. Why would he be driving after he was drinking?”

  Nervously, I chew on my thumb. “Because he was trying to work up the courage to come see me. He wanted to tell me he loved me. He didn’t seem drunk when he was there. Maybe a little buzzed and truthfully, something definitely seemed off, but I’ve been around Tyler enough to know he wasn’t drunk. Do you think it’s possible he had a seizure? I mean, maybe that’s why he wrecked?”

  We move to sit down in the waiting area where Red brings his hand up to run over the back of his neck. “As long as he’s taking his meds, he shouldn’t have, but he hasn’t been acting like himself lately so who knows.”

  He’s right. He hasn’t been.

  For the next four hours, we wait as time passes agonizingly slow with his parents by our side. I wanted to talk to his mom but I had no idea what to say to her, so I remained quiet.

  They wouldn’t offer any updates other than he was in surgery. Every time we asked, we got the same answer.

  I can’t think or feel. My mind is numbly unaware of everything going on. Voices seem distant and muddled. Motions seem uncontrolled, my thoughts on Tyler and why I let him leave. I shouldn’t have. I just shouldn’t have.

  Sitting there staring at the nurses’ station in the corner, suddenly, I’m worn out. Mostly from being up most of the night, but I hate this feeling rushing through me. The one of being in a hospital, waiting and helpless.

  When my dad passed away, they say he died right there on the floor of the shop from a massive heart attack. Red performed CPR on him until the paramedics got there and then they took over, continuing for nearly a half an hour. It was an hour before they finally pronounced him dead, and I was there, waiting with my mom and brothers. Worst night of my life.

  When Red was shot, we waited for days for him to come around. I couldn’t help but relate all of those instances together into one.

  Waiting on the unknown.

  IT’S LATE, THE sky dark outside and every time the door opens to the waiting room, I’m chilled to the bone. It’s hours after we arrived, but it seems like days. In fact, it’s been six hours and thirty-seven minutes since I stepped foot inside this room. On minute thirty-eight, a doctor in navy-colored scrubs and black hair comes around the corner holding his scrub cap in his hands.

  He scans the crowd. “Who’s the family of Tyler Hemming?”

  Red clears his throat, sitting up straighter in the chair giving the doctor a nod and then to Tyler’s parents. “We’re it.”

  The doctor looks at the five of us and then sits down in an empty chair across from his mother. Leaning forward his voice is low, maintaining privacy. “Mrs. Hemming, does Tyler have epilepsy or some other condition that would cause him to have seizures?”

  His mom has tears in her eyes and nods. “He has epilepsy.”

  “It explains a lot. As you know, Tyler was in a car accident this morning and brought in unconscious. He had some lacerations to his face, neck and ear. He came out of it for a moment but then went straight into another seizure. A CT scan confirmed he had a brain hemorrhage so we went in and opened a small section of his skull to release the pressure and control the bleeding. We did run into a few complications with his blood pressure and bleeding, but he’s stable now. Amazingly enough he didn’t break any bones, just the head injury.”

  His father speaks up right away. “I don’t understand. He takes medication to control his epilepsy. What do you think could’ve caused him to have one?”

  That’s why he seemed so off. I should have known.

  “First of all, it’s not completely unheard of for an individual to have a seizure even when on their medication. It’s rare but unfortunately, it does happen. Second, we had a toxicology report run and it will be in later because when Tyler was brought in the officers noticed the smell of alcohol on him. It’s absolutely possible that a seizure caused him to lose consciousness and run off the road though. It’s going to take some time for his head injury to heal, but he should be just fine.” He nods to the police officers still sitting in the waiting room. “When his toxicology comes back, we have to report it.” Before he leaves, the doctor looks at Nora, Tyler’s mom. “He’s going to be out of it for a day or two but in the morning, you should be able to see him.”

  Shaking his head when the doctor leaves, Red stares at the ground, his hands clasped together as he leans forward. “I can’t believe he was that stupid.”

  I don’t have the strength to tell Red it’s me who was stupid. I let Tyler leave for my own selfish reasons, because I didn’t want him to stay, and I should have made him stay. I just hope he wakes up and I can fix this and tell him how much I need him.

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep but it feels like days. It’s the best sleep I’ve had in my entire life too. The kind where you dream of nothing. It’s just sleep. Which tells me it was probably aided by drugs and not just me being tired.

  When I do finally open my eyes, the reality of everything takes a while. It’s obvious that I’m in a hospital yet I don’t know how I got here. I do have an idea that I had a seizure. The few times I’ve landed myself in the hospital have been from seizures.

  Every inch of me hurts, the dull kind of pain like you’re slowly being torn apart from the inside out.

  I lie here for a while before a nurse comes in. She smiles at me, tapping her finger to the board. “Nice to see you’re awake, Mr. Hemming. I’m Cindy, your nurse. I’m just going to check your vitals and then I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”

  I don’t say anything to her as she goes about her job. I just keep staring out the window and the snow falling wondering how badly I’ve gotten myself into trouble. I was drinking. But I wasn’t drunk. I remember that much. Like a film reel, bits and pieces of the night come back to me and the last thing I remember distinctively is Raven and our argument in her dorm room. The look on her face haunts me.

  The door opens again. A tall man in a white coat approaches the chair next to my bed and sits down. “Mr. Hemming, glad to see you’re awake. How are you fe
eling?”

  Like shit.

  I nod, but it hurts. My body is sore, like I’ve been hit by a ton of bricks, each one thrown separately. “Sore.”

  “Any headaches or blurred vision?”

  I blink several times. My head’s buzzing, a lingering headache around my ears. “A little bit.”

  “That’s expected. You were in a car accident and we had to go in and control a bleed in your brain. A blood test confirmed your blood alcohol content was not above the legal limit.”

  Oh, thank God.

  “Taking that into consideration and factoring in your epilepsy, we are going with the assumption the accident was caused by a seizure. Do you have any memory of the accident or the moments leading up to it?”

  I had plenty of memories but I’m not about to share them with this guy I’ve never met until now. “I didn’t take my meds,” I admit, remembering my decision to say screw it for just one day. A pang of guilt hits my chest making it hard to swallow. I knew better. I knew better yet I still fucking did it.

  The doctor’s eyes narrow. “I guess I don’t need to tell you how irresponsible that was. You got behind the wheel of a vehicle knowing you were at a higher risk for a seizure. You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself or someone else.”

  Clearing my throat, I ask, “What happened?”

  Please tell me I didn’t hit anyone.

  “You crashed near Brownsville from what the police tell me. Hit a barn and took out some fencing. Didn’t do much damage but you rolled the truck. The owner found you and called it in.”