by Marta Brown
It takes all my will power to keep my jaw closed tight, even though it feels like I have a weight in my mouth trying to force it open. Did Mr. Whitmore just apologize to me?
I’m not sure where to look or what to do with my hands, so I shove them in my pockets then look him directly in the eyes. “Uh…thank you, sir,” I stammer. “Ashley and Andrew mean a lot to me, I’d do anything for them.”
“That is quite apparent,” he says, clasping me on the shoulder in a fatherly way.
The door to my right creaks open and Sam emerges looking startled at the scene in front of him. “Is everything alright out here?” he says, placing his hands on his belt and squaring his shoulders. Total cop stance.
Mr. Whitmore drops his hand from my shoulder. “Yes, everything is fine, thank you, Officer,” Mr. Whitmore replies before reaching out to shake my hand. “Take all the time you want.” He nods towards Andrew’s door. “Andrew will be happy to see you.”
With my mind still reeling from my encounter with Mr. Whitmore I step into Andrew’s darkened room then shut the door behind me. The click it makes echoes loudly, causing Andrew’s eyes to fly open.
“Dude, you just scared the crap out of me,” he says with a grin on his face. “I totally thought that cop changed his mind and was coming back to arrest me for something.” He chuckles but I can’t move.
I stare wide eyed at the cuts and bruises on Andrew’s face in varying shades of blue, green and purple. But that’s nothing compared to the large surgical staples I see in his hairline. He has several bandages covering his arms, like mine, and one leg is in a cast from his ankle to his hip. He looks bad.
“Don’t worry, man, it looks way worse than it is,” he says, clearly trying to put me at ease. “And the pain meds are awesome.”
That’s exactly what I needed, Andrew being Andrew. I smile. He’s going to be okay.
“How ya doin’?” I ask, sitting in the chair next to his bed. The faint smell of Ashley, like warm sugar, assaults my senses. My mind and heart battle each other over taking long deep pulls of her scent or holding my breath to avoid the pain of missing her so badly. My heart wins as I take in a breath through my nose greedily.
He looks me right in the eyes. “I’m doing good, man, thanks to you.” The words are casual, but the way he says them is serious and grateful.
I look down at my feet, uncomfortable with his gratitude. “It’s no big deal. You’d done the same thing for me.”
“Yeah, I would’ve,” Andrew says. And there’s nothing else that needs to be said. I know he would have too.
I give Andrew a quick fist bump and smile, though what he returns is more of a half wince- half smile and his eyes are droopy, I assume from the medication.
“Hey, why don’t I let you get some rest, and I’ll come hang out later?” I offer since I don’t think Mr. Whitmore will have an issue with it.
“That’s cool. Like I said… the meds are pretty good.” Andrew smiles before closing his eyes and relaxing into his pillow.
I stand to leave when the door opens, and for a split second the swirl of Ashley’s perfume kicks up all around me. I hold my breath hoping when I turn around she’ll be standing in the doorway, but instead when I look over my shoulder it’s Gregory Chase who’s standing there, glaring at me.
Luckily, Andrew doesn’t seem to have been awoken by the noise of the door this time.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Greg growls at me with narrowed eyes.
“Quiet. He’s sleeping,” I say in an angry whisper. “And I was just leaving.” I walk to the door, but Gregory doesn’t move when I try to reach past him for the door handle; instead he checks me hard with his shoulder.
“What is your problem?” I ask loudly, before glancing at Andrew, worried I might wake him. Andrew’s eyes flutter open and then close again. I lower my voice, “Seriously, dude?”
“My problem is you,” he says seething. “You’re like a cat with nine lives—I just can’t seem to get rid of you.”
“I’m trying to leave, you’re the one not letting me go.”
“If only it was that easy,” he says, taking a step toward me. He gives a quick glance at Andrew then levels his eyes back on me. “You know, at first you were just a nuisance, like a gnat I had to constantly swat away. You thought you could embarrass me in front of Ashley, look like the man. I figured getting you fired was the least I’d need to do to make her see how ridiculous it was she was even looking at you. Eliminate the distraction.”
“Not my fault she has good taste,” I say smugly as I think back to the flirty smile she’d given me right before Gregory dropped that fork on the ground. “Jealous,” I taunt.
I watch Gregory’s jaw tighten at my dig. “Jealous of you? Hardly,” he sneers. “More like sick of you. You think you can come in here and steal Ashley and Andrew from me, and there won’t be any consequences?”
I take another step backwards. “First off, Ashley wasn’t yours for me to steal and secondly, Andrew can make friends with whoever he likes,” I say cautiously because he’s sending off some serious creepy vibes.
Gregory reaches up and pulls at his hair, taking another step forward like I’m prey he’s stalking. “Andrew made a fool out of me at the bluffs betting on you and not me, and even after calling the cops and getting you arrested, it did nothing. Nothing.” His eyes are wide and darting as he takes another step forward while I take another one back.
“You called the cops?” I ask in disbelief, although the crazier he keeps acting the less surprised I am.
“Then after your big stunt at the bonfire, playing Ashley’s hero, I made sure my father let the scholarship board know all about your little arrest. I wish you could have seen your face when you were begging my father to help you get the scholarship back that we made sure you lost in the first place. We had a good laugh about it.”
“You…you got my scholarship pulled?” I say in shock. I stumble backwards until my back hits the cold grey wall, snapping me out of my disbelief and sending the small nagging thought I didn’t even realize I had in the back of my mind, slamming forward against my skull.
“You did something to my car.” It’s not a question but a statement. “You caused the accident.”
“I just couldn’t seem to get rid of you, no matter how hard I tried,” he says, taking one last step forward, boxing me into the corner. “But those spike strips were meant for you, not Andrew.”
Chapter 30
Ashley
As I meander down the hall with a single serve chocolate pudding cup for Andrew, I hear a steady murmur of voices around the corner, which is unusual for this floor. It’s far quieter up here, compared to the ICU where Andrew had been before coming out of his coma. There was always a constant stream of machine alarms going off, followed by panicked nurses and doctors attempting to resuscitate fragile patients.
I take a deep breath, relieved my big brother is awake now and healing fast. As I round the corner of the hallway leading to Andrew’s room I’m surprised to see a number of cops still there. I glance at the large clock hanging on the wall above me. The interview was supposed to take an hour, it’s been nearly two. Why are they still here?
I pick up my pace, suddenly anxious as I brush past the cops standing just outside Andrew’s room. I’m comforted to see Andrew lying in his bed, awake, just as I had left him, except now the tiny room is filled with another cop, my mother, father, a nurse, a doctor and Lane.
Lane.
He’s standing at the edge of Andrew’s bed speaking with the police officer, and I don’t even bother wondering why he’s here. It’s been more than two weeks since I’ve seen him last and I have to stop myself from running to him, throwing my arms around his neck and begging him to forgive me for everything I did and said the night of the accident.
I try to tear my eyes away from him, to ask my father what’s happened, but I can’t. My heart won’t even let me blink. I stand frozen in a room whirling with activity j
ust watching him. Missing him.
“Ashley, dear,” my mother calls from somewhere behind me, causing Lane to lift his head and lock eyes with mine. My heart thuds so hard in my chest I can feel my pulse in my fingertips, and I’m suddenly lightheaded. I know I should sit before I faint, but my feet won’t move, and I don’t want them to. I don’t want to risk the chance Lane will look away and never look back again. I hold his gaze, giving him a sad smile, a silent apology I hope he can hear. He smiles back.
“Ashley?” my mother says again, stepping directly in front of me, cutting off our contact. I try to move around her and toward him, but she puts her cool hands on the side of my face. “Dear, are you feeling alright? You’re as pale as a ghost. Come sit with your father and I for a little bit, and we can explain what’s happened.”
Reluctantly, I let her guide me out of the room with one last glance over my shoulder at Lane, who’s still looking at me, making my heart skip a beat.
“What’s going on?” I ask, looking at my parents concerned faces.
“Sit, sit.” My mother pats the seat of the waiting room chair next to them, her voice unusually high.
My parents share a look that I can’t quite decipher before my dad takes my hands in his, like he’s about to deliver bad news. I shift in my chair, glancing between the two of them, my palms beginning to sweat.
“Well, sweetie, the officers are here to speak with your brother and Lane about the accident again as some new information has been brought to light.”
I feel my brows furrow. “What do you mean… new information?” It was an accident. What kind of new information could they have?
My father clears his throat. “It seems Gregory Chase may have had something to do with the accident, so the cops are here to get the details.”
“I’m sorry?” I shake my head, unsure I’ve heard him correctly. Did he say Gregory had something to do with Andrew’s accident? “What do you mean?” My jaw tightens and my pulse begins to race again, although I’m not completely shocked at the idea he could be involved somehow.
“Lane came to visit your brother earlier this afternoon and ran into Gregory as he was leaving. They had a verbal altercation that Andrew was awoken to, and he overheard Gregory admit to laying down spike strips to cause the accident. Although, they were apparently intended for Lane.” My father pauses, allowing my mind time to catch up. Which it does. Fast. Spike strips? Meant for Lane? My hand covers my mouth involuntarily. “Luckily, your brother signaled the nurse with his call button and interrupted their confrontation before it escalated any further. The cops are here to take the boy’s statements before they can issue an arrest warrant for Gregory.”
Hot tears fill my eyes and it’s hard to speak, but I push the words out anyway. “Gregory tried to cause Lane to get into an accident?”
“There’s more, I’m afraid,” my mother says, patting my knee.
“More?” I croak. “How?”
“Gregory not only confessed to the accident, but he admitted to calling the authorities and having Lane arrested for their race and then having Richard use his connections to revoke Lane’s scholarship.”
Silent tears stream down my face as I feel the crushing guilt for blaming Lane for Andrew’s accident.
My mother moves to sit next to me and wraps her arms around my shaking body. “And to think that amazing boy could have been killed out of spite and jealousy.”
“Andrew?” I say, crying into her shoulder.
She presses her lips to my temple and rubs small soothing circles on my back like she did when I was a child. “Lane, dear.”
I pull away, my eyes wide with disbelief. Am I hearing things? “Did you just say…Lane?”
“Oh, Ashley, we were so wrong.” My mother brushes one of my wayward curls from my face and tucks it behind my ear, her tone pleading. “We are so very sorry for the way we treated Lane. We should have trusted you, honey. I hope you can forgive us.”
I feel my jaw drop open, but I’m too shocked to pick it up and graciously accept her apology. My father gives my hand a gentle squeeze causing me to finally close my mouth, but I can feel my eyes are still opened wide.
“Officer Evans informed us Lane pulled Andrew from the wreckage, incurring several wounds himself, and tended to him until the paramedics arrived,” my father explains softly, regret lacing his tone. “If it weren’t for Lane, Andrew would not have survived.”
I watch a single tear run down my mother’s apologetic face before the entire room begins to spin wildly out of control.
Lane saved Andrew’s life.
I jump to my feet, swaying slightly, and have to close my eyes to right myself, although I still feel dizzy. I need to talk to Lane.
“Darling, where are you going?” My mother stands and puts her hands on my shoulders to help steady me.
“I have to go. I have to talk to him. Tell him how wrong I was and beg him to take me back. I have to fix this,” I say like any wasted second it takes to get to him will be the end of us, forever.
“Of course, my dear.” She gives me a quick hug and then releases me to go make things right.
As I reach the doorway, I’m pulled up short when Lane walks out with the officer at his side.
“Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore?” the officer says, addressing my parents as Lane and I stare at one another, standing so close the smell of soap and sunshine washes over me. His face is pink with sunburn and I want to reach out and touch his cheek, to soothe him if I can.
“Yes, Officer?” my father answers. “What can we do for you?”
“Nothing right now, sir. I’m going to finish interviewing Mr. McCarthy down at the station so your son can get some rest.” I peer into Andrew’s room as his nurse punches the red button, administering his pain meds and sending him off to a restful nap. “I also wanted to let you know I’ll be picking up the arrest warrant for Mr. Chase. We have more than enough to press charges.”
“Thank you, Officer Evans, for all your hard work,” my father says, shaking the cop’s hand, then turning to Lane and shaking his as well. “And thank you, Lane. We will never be able to thank you enough for what you did for Andrew.”
Lane nods. I’m surprised he doesn’t seem more shocked by my father’s sudden change of attitude. I still am.
The officer places his hand on Lane’s shoulder, pride written all over his face.
“Good day,” Officer Evans says with a tip of his hat then begins to lead Lane past us. I struggle for something to say before he leaves, but before I can speak, I feel Lane’s hand reach out and brush against mine as soft and gentle as a kiss.
His touch renders me completely speechless even though my heart is shouting a million ‘I’m sorry’s’, a thousand ‘thank you’s’, a hundred ‘don’t go’s’, and one all-encompassing ‘I love you.’
Chapter 31
Lane
“Surprise!” Mom, Grandpa, and Irene shout as Sam and I walk in the front door, startling me from replaying the way it felt when I reached out and brushed Ashley’s fingertips with mine.
I couldn’t stop myself. No matter the torture it would cost me later, I had to feel the touch of her skin, to feel our connection, one last time.
My heart pounds, as I look around at their happy faces. I haven’t had a chance to tell them what transpired at the hospital today because it all happened so fast, but I think it’s safe to say I’ve had enough surprises for one day.
“Surprise?” I ask, rubbing my forehead before I notice that our tiny living room has been decorated for a party. Blue and white streamers hang in loops across the back wall and are also draped over each blade of the ceiling fan hanging above the coffee table. A half dozen blue colored balloons are bunched together and tied to one of the legs of the coffee table, and shiny white confetti in the shapes of graduation caps and tiny diplomas are strewn across the table’s surface. Yale colors.
“You do all know I’m not going to Yale, right?” I say half joking-half irritated. Like I need t
o be reminded of what I’ve lost at the hands of Gregory Chase. Again.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Mom says with a gleam in her eye.
Grandpa Frank shuffles toward me with an envelope gripped tight in his hand and a grin on his face. “Your mother’s right, my boy.”
I take the envelope, worried my entire family has lost it. “What’s this?” I question, flipping over the envelope and seeing it’s addressed to me from our insurance company.
Insurance money? I shake my head. Of course. I’d been so worried about Andrew, and upset over losing Ashley, I hadn’t even considered I’d receive insurance money for my car, which was completely totaled.
I’m not sure what this has to do with Yale, but I’m thankful I won’t have to bum rides from Mom until I leave for Boston.
Everyone is staring at me as I rip open the envelope and pull out the light green check. The shock must be apparent on my face by the laughter I hear around the room. Although it’s hard to hear anything besides myself repeating the amount of money I’m holding in my hand, over and over in my head. Ninety. Eight. Thousand. Dollars.
“But…but how?” I stammer wide eyed at Grandpa.
“That car was a fully restored 1967 AC Shelby Cobra. I might be losing my mind, but I’m not crazy.” Grandpa chuckles. “You don’t really believe I’d give a race car to a teenager and not insure him and the car to the fullest?”
I’m not sure what to believe right now.
I shake my head, staring at the check in my hand. I knew the car was valuable in its original condition, but we found it at the junk yard and restored it ourselves. I never considered it was anywhere near this much. I’m not sure I would have driven it if I did.
“Well, come on now, let’s celebrate already,” Irene says, causing me to finally tear my eyes away from the check.
“Celebrate?” I say, looking up at her standing in the entryway to the kitchen holding a bottle of sparkling apple cider in one hand and a cake knife in the other, a huge grin on her face.
