Winter Wonderful (Summer Unplugged Book 7)

by Sparling, Amy

  I snort.

  There’s really nothing else to say here.

  I turn my attention back to the television. The couple on the screen are getting divorced on daytime television by some creepy guy who doesn’t really look like he’s a real judge.

  “Honey, I’m serious. Will you just hear me out?”

  I look at her again, this time with my jaw firmly clenched tight. “Why should I go home? My husband is here.”

  “Yes he is, and he’s in excellent hands. But you haven’t showered in over four days. You’ve been wearing the same clothes. You can’t keep using wet napkins to clean up Jett’s burbs. You need to go home, take a hot shower and maybe get a real nap. You can even leave Jett with us if you want.”

  My eyes narrow. “Or of course you can bring him home with you,” she says quickly. “We’re just concerned about you.”

  “I’m fine. Becca has been bringing me diapers and clothes for Jett and Jett is fully taken care of,” I say, feeling the hot annoying pull of tears filling my eyes.

  “Honey it’s not Jett we’re worried about. It’s you.”

  “You don’t need to be worried about me.”

  “It’s not just me,” she says, placing a hand on my arm. “Becca actually had this talk with me. They volunteered me to ask you to go home. Becca and Park are even willing to drive you because you probably shouldn’t be driving right now.”

  What am I, some kind of nut case? I am perfectly capable of driving.

  Even though I know that Becca and Park and Jace’s mom are trying to being helpful and loving, I can’t help but feel epically betrayed. Who does that? Talking about me behind my back and then have some kind of intervention to get me to go home. I can’t go home.

  “I can’t go home,” I say. “Jace might wake up.”

  The look on her face tells me that I’m right and she knows it.

  So why am I then walked down to Park’s truck and driven home by two people who I thought were my best friends?

  Chapter 13

  My hands fold over my chest and I let out an indignant huff of breath for the tenth time in as many minutes. “You two are not my friends,” I say.

  Becca leans against my shoulder from her place in the middle of Park’s truck seat. She grabs my arm and squeezes it. “We are your friends. That’s why we’re taking care of you.”

  “I don’t need to be taken care of. None of my bones are broken, in case you haven’t noticed. I need to be taking care of Jace.”

  “The hospital is taking care of Jace.”

  Park, who is usually the talkative energetic one of the group, has been completely silent since we left. I’m starting to think he might actually be on my side but is being held hostage by his girlfriend and his best friend’s mom. I glance over at him for confirmation, but he’s staring at the road.

  My apartment smells old and stale. Like the life has been all sucked out of it and replaced with the air of fifty years ago. As I had suspected, the Christmas lights inside the living room are still on. I walk to the wall where they are plugged in, bend over and yank out the cord, making the room go dark except for some sunlight streaming in through the closed blinds.

  When I stand back up again, I start to cry.

  “Oh, Bayleigh,” Becca says, rushing to my side. She holds my shoulders in her hands but I ignore her. It’s not intentionally, I just can’t focus on anything right now. My hands cover my face and I drop to my knees on the carpet, tears falling out faster and harder with each second. Becca sits on the floor with me, murmuring nice things that I can’t even understand at the moment.

  My chest heaves with ragged breaths. It’s a struggle to breathe between the crying. Like a tidal wave of grief, my entire broken heart spills out of my eyes and into my hands. Becca holds me close.

  I regret what I said in the car. Becca is definitely my friend.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I say between sobs. I’m not sure where Park went and at this point, I don’t really care.

  “You’re going to pull yourself together and be strong for Jace.” Becca brushes the hair out of my face. “Let’s get you a shower and some new clothes and some real food. We’ll be back to Jace before he knows you’re gone.”

  I nod. Her idea sounds good. I can do this. I can be strong, just like Jace would have been if he were in my position. He’s always strong. Always steady. Always there.

  How would I feel if he woke up to find out that his wife, the woman he married and trusted to raise his son, was nothing more than a weak idiot who crumbled under the first sign of pressure?

  I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and picturing Jace’s smiling face the way it is in my memories before he became scarred from the wreck. And in this very second, I know more than anything else, that I will absolutely not disappoint him.

  I stand up and swallow the lump in my throat. Becca’s eyes are wide with surprise which she tries very unsuccessfully to hide from me. I look her in the eyes. “Let’s do this.”

  She helps me into the shower, getting the water warm for me and setting out a towel for me to grab when I’m done. I hand her my dirty clothes with a grimace on my face, as if seeing them for the first time right here under the bright bathroom lights. God. They’re filthy. I’m filthy.

  I glance at my stomach in the mirror again, marveling at how the big round bulge is totally gone. I’m a little thinner than usual as if these last five days have sucked every bit of glow from my skin. I step into the shower and wash myself on autopilot, with shampoo and everything. Just like a normal person would do.

  The water from the showerhead splashes over my face and I close my eyes and pretend to be smiling again. I imagine a world where Jace and Jett are on the outside of that door, playing in the living room and waiting for Mom to come out of the shower and join them. Then, with every ounce of energy I have left, I force myself to smile for real.

  It almost hurts. But I manage it. I’m smiling. I’m in the shower, all alone, but it’s a real smile. I take the lie even further and tell myself that I will one day smile again, in front of people and with Jace by my side. He will wake up, I tell myself. He’s going to. Then my smile will be completely for him.

  When I’m out of the shower, I dry off and climb into the fresh set of yoga pants and soft black t-shirt that Becca had laid out for me. In times like these I feel that she knows me better than I know myself. I would have picked this exact same outfit. It’s soft, it’s comforting. It reminds me of home.

  Plus I can easily spend another five days wearing it.

  I shuffle into the living room with a towel wrapped around my hair. Now I know why I couldn’t find the hair dryer—Becca holds it in her hand. She’s sitting cross-legged in front of the couch, watching television and holding a hair brush in her other hand. “Sit,” she says, motioning toward the spot in front of her.

  “Where’s Park?” I ask as I do what she said. I take the towel out of my hair and Becca begins brushing it out. I’m thankful I used conditioner as she rakes the brush through my hair with unrelenting speed.

  “He went to get food,” she says. “Real food, not that hospital shit.”

  I wonder how she thinks takeout food could be any more real than hospital food since it’s all the same type of prepared-in-an-industrial-kitchen stuff, but I don’t say anything.

  We watch the History Channel in silence while Becca blow dries my hair. It feels good to have my hair brushed by someone else and I can feel it relaxing me more than the shower did. I find myself thinking about how Becca is possibly the world’s greatest friend and for the thousandth time in my life, I am so grateful for her and I feel like I could never, ever repay her the kind of friendship she’s given to me.

  When my hair is nearly dry, Park gets back. I’m being held in position by the hair dryer so I can’t turn to look at him but the smell of the food he’s carrying nearly knocks me over. My stomach instantly growls and it feels like I haven’t eaten in months. I pull away from Becca as she bru
shes my hair.

  “What is that? I’m starving.”

  Park laughs and sets a tray on the kitchen counter. There are no bags of takeout food with him. Just a glass dish covered in foil and another foil-wrapped object that’s long and thin. It smells absolutely divine.

  “Mrs. Molly’s homemade lasagna,” he says, pulling off the foil from the dish and sweeping his hand through the air as if he’s revealing the prize on a game show. My mouth waters and I rush over to it. Now this is food.

  “She made this for us?” I ask in disbelief. Becca moves into the kitchen and takes out some plates and forks. The other foil package is a loaf of cheesy garlic bread. Suddenly I think I could eat the entire thing.

  We all fix plates of food and sit down to eat at the kitchen table. There’s a different feel in the air as we eat, and I’m guessing it’s because I’ve finally pulled out of my depressed stupor. I credit this solely on the food. Mrs. Fisher, or Molly, as Park calls her, is Jace’s boss’s wife. She’s also my friend Hana’s mom. She takes her title as Motocross Mom very seriously and is always there to lend a helping hand to people who need it.

  “I have to call Mrs. Fisher and let her know how grateful I am,” I say between mouthfuls of my third slice of lasagna. I’m about to gain back all that weight I lost this week and I don’t even care.

  “That woman is amazing,” Becca says. “She’s always organizing charity rides and stuff.” We all nod in agreement and keep eating.

  Soon, I am clean and wearing new clothes and walking around with a full stomach. I feel a lot better. Still broken to the core because Jace isn’t back yet, but better. I’ll be okay as soon as he wakes up. Still, the nervousness that has been plaguing me ever since I stepped out of the hospital is staring to rise to unprecedented levels.

  “We really need to get back to the hospital now,” I say, doing my best to sound like a sane, normal person who they should totally believe. “I bet Jett is missing me and I’m missing him.”

  “He’s sleeping,” Becca says, holding up her phone. “I’ve been getting text updates every thirty minutes on the dot.”

  “Really?” I ask, feeling stupid that I hadn’t thought to think of that.

  “Yep. We’ve got this. Both of your boys are sleeping in the hospital and Jace’s mom is there taking care of them and you’re free to stay here longer if you need.”

  I shake my head. “It was good getting cleaned up but I can’t be home for very long without Jace. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Looks like it’s time to go,” Park says. We grab a few more packages of diapers and switch out Jett’s old clothes with some new ones. As we pack I find myself getting really anxious to hold my baby again. It’s amazing how something so tiny and precious can change your entire being.

  I’m packing a fresh set of baby socks when my phone rings from where I left it in the kitchen. “Bayleigh, hurry!” Becca yells. The socks fall from my hands and I sprint through the hallway and into the kitchen, grabbing the phone as my hip slams into the counter. It’s Jace’s mom.

  “Hello?”

  “You need to get here,” she says breathlessly. “The doctor thinks he’s waking up.”

  Chapter 14

  I’m expecting doctors and nurses and a flurry of excitement crowded around Jace’s hospital bed when I storm out of the elevators in my mad dash to get to him. But the door is wide open and not a single nurse in the hallway seems to care one bit. I find myself thinking something really stupid, something embarrassingly awful and something that makes me a terrible person.

  If he’s already awake I’m going to be mad.

  Of course that isn’t true. If he’s awake, I’ll be happy. I’ll collapse into a pile of happy tears and tell Jace how much I’ve missed him. But if he’s already awake I will be a little upset that I wasn’t the first person he saw when he opened his eyes. I can’t stand the thought of him wanting me and not finding me.

  The steady sounds of Jace’s breathing are the first thing I notice when I make it to his room, Park and Becca trailing behind me because they couldn’t keep up with my pace. His eyes are closed.

  “Well?” I say, turning toward his parents who are playing with Jett instead of watching their son.

  “Nothing yet,” Julie says.

  My purse falls to the floor. All of that rushing for nothing. “Then why did they think he was waking up?”

  “Something with his brain waves on the monitor thing,” she says, pointing to one of the many machines hooked up to him. “They can tell he’s having more brain activity so they don’t think he’s in a coma anymore. At least not a deep one. Now maybe he’s just sleeping.”

  “Well wake him the hell up!” I rush to his side and grab his good hand, squeezing it as I lace my fingers through his. “Hey, Jace. Wake up.”

  I say it in the same voice I use when he’s slept through his alarm clock and is in danger of being late to work. “Wake up, babe. You’re late.”

  He doesn’t do anything. I squeeze his hand a little tighter, hoping the pain will cause him to flinch, if not wake him up completely. Of course that doesn’t work. I look over him at the broken bones and stitches and bruises. I doubt me squeezing on his arm will do any good at all.

  “Stupid doctors,” I mutter under my breath as I carefully climb into bed next to Jace, not caring one bit about hospital safety. This one side of his body is practically unharmed, so I snuggle up against him, resting my head on his chest and arm. The steady rise and fall of his chest feels comforting. I can almost close my eyes and pretend we’re back at home, lying in our bed and nothing bad has happened to us.

  Almost.

  I feed Jett and change his diaper and that’s the only time I leave Jace’s bed. Luckily only one nurse comes in to check on him and she doesn’t say anything. Jett’s still so tiny that he fits perfectly between the crook of me and Jace, all snuggled up in his burrito blanket. I hope he knows he’s with his mom and dad. He’s already spent half of his life without a father.

  That night, Jace’s parents decide to leave the hospital and go back to their hotel to clean up and have dinner out at a restaurant instead of in the café. For the first time in a long time, neither one of our parents are here and Becca and Park are out as well. We’re all alone, just my family and me.

  Once Jett is asleep, I tuck him into the bassinet we’ve brought to the hospital and I go back to sit on Jace’s bed.

  Now that no one’s watching, I can pull out the big guns.

  “Okay, Jace Adams. It’s time to wake up.” My voice is stern and demanding. “Now.” I sound like a drill sergeant. I guess it’s not good enough.

  I lean close to his ear. “Wake up or I’m divorcing you.” Lies. All lies. But it doesn’t matter anyhow because he’s not waking up to question them. I sigh and poke him right in the forehead. “Babe please wake up. This is annoying. This is like seriously the most annoying thing you’ve ever done.”

  I’m a little embarrassed to admit this but I poke him in the face a few more times. I try to be annoying, hoping it’ll get him to wake up. Then, I lean in close and make sure no one is looking, and I lift up his eyelid. Big mistake.

  Seeing his eye roll to the side of his head, completely lifeless and not focused on me brings me to tears again. Every other time I’ve looked at Jace, he’s been looking at me.

  This all feels so hopeless.

  I didn’t want to give up on him, but after feeling like an idiot for talking to someone in a coma for two hours, I ended up turning on the television and looking for something more entertaining than poking my husband’s face.

  My eyes sting like they want to cry. No tears come though because I think I’m all cried out. I lay back down on his good side, snuggling my head against his bicep and wrapping my arm around his elbow. There’s a hitch in his breathing, startling me so hard my body gets cold. Shit. I must have hit something, pulled out an IV or something.

  I glance up from where I’m resting my head and for the smalles
t second, it almost looks like Jace is staring right at me. And then I feel the warm touch of lips pressing to my forehead.

  My heart throws itself into my throat and I look up again, this time meeting Jace’s eyes for real. All I can do is stare. His lips part slightly and I think he’s trying to smile.

  His voice is raspy when he says, “Hey.”

  Chapter 15

  There’s a steady stream of doctors and nurses and friends and family filtering in and out of Jace’s room for the next few hours. His doctor says Jace had the best possible outcome because he woke up remembering exactly who he is and what happened to him. Now all he has to do is let his broken bones heal and he will be nearly as good as new.

  Then of course, I might beat him up just because he made me worry so much.

  My mom ruffles his hair when she stops by in the afternoon. “I’m so glad you’re awake,” she says, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

  “Thanks,” Jace says. “Sorry to scare everyone.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I say. Jett sleeps in my arms while I sit cross-legged at the foot of his hospital bed. “Which is really saying something, because if I had to guess why you’d be all broken up and in a coma I’d bet money it would be from a dirt bike.”

  “Psh,” he says, rolling his eyes. Even with bruises on his face he manages to look so confident it’s cocky. “I’m Jace Adams. I don’t wreck.”

  “So when do you get to go home?” Mom asks. There’s a knock on the door and David and Bentley poke their heads into the room.

  “You can come in,” I tell them.

  Bentley’s eyes are wide. “Are you sure?”

  “Come on, little dude!” Jace calls. Bentley swings open the door, grinning from ear to ear.

  “You look really bad,” he says, squishing up his face.

  Jace laughs. “I don’t feel as bad as I look. Thanks to the morphine.”