Shattered Love (Blinded Love Series Book 1)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Agony wailed throughout my body as I dropped into my wheelchair. It was like seeing a ghost. But I knew it wasn’t.

  Hunter.

  Shelly turned the chair around, pointed me back toward my room, and pushed me forward. Hunter’s gaze stayed on me, and he bolted up, his hand clutching the bedrail. He looked skinnier than I remembered—pale, sickly, and frail. Those words were not something you ever thought when you said the name Hunter Harris.

  His tall, burly male nurse leaped for him. “What are you doing? You can’t walk yet, man. Baby steps.”

  Shelly rolled the wheelchair past the doorway, out of view. My attention stayed on the doorway until his piercing eyes disappeared. Seeing him was like someone took a pair of pliers and ripped out my lungs. Colton’s dead. I would never see the man I loved again, but I would see Hunter’s face every day, an excruciating reminder.

  Why couldn’t it have been Hunter? A voice in my heart screamed. The truth in the twisted thought chilled me. But anger at him and myself for thinking it won out.

  During the next several days, Shelly and I made the same journey often. Hunter’s door was always shut after the first time, as if he knew I would be coming down and didn’t want to see me. But today it was open, the lights off. I tried to ignore the shot of terror. “Where is he?”

  “Who, baby girl?” Shelly asked and followed my gaze to his empty room. “Oh, he’s having another operation today. He was in a lot worse shape than you.”

  I gulped. Terror halted my steps, the sudden sensation of being abandoned. I was startled by a flash of fear that Hunter would leave me all alone. Whether or not we liked it, we were linked.

  “Will he be all right?”

  “I hope so. You guys are young and have already gone through so much.” Shelly sighed. “He’s a fighter, just like you. I believe he will come out of this.”

  She patted the wheelchair, telling me she would wheel me back. “Take a seat, baby girl.”

  “No.” I wagged my head back and forth at her gesture. “I want to walk back.” A handful of steps down the hall and I fell back into the wheelchair defeated and huffing.

  Shelly pushed me forward. “You don’t see the incredible strength you have inside. I hope one day you will.”

  I rolled my lips together, pushing back the bile rising in my throat. It was the second time today I walked down the corridor, and my body told me in the language of aches it had enough. I could swear the passage had been extended since earlier in the day, the distance to the water fountain growing farther away.

  This time I was on my own without Shelly or my wheelchair. Mom had finally left for the night, or rather, the nurses had kicked her out. The quiet hospital wing was in “night” mode. Only a few nurses were on duty who attended emergencies or persistent button-pushers. I would be unchallenged on my quest if they didn’t walk by and catch me. At my speed, the journey didn’t look promising.

  My determination pushed me through the pain, and finally, with glacial steps, I reached my destination. The door was open, and a dim glow of a nightlight outlined a figure lying in the bed. A ragged sound—the air filtered through a tube in his throat—filled the room.

  I wasn’t sure why the need to see him overpowered my aching and lack of energy. I was curious, but I hadn’t thought to ask anyone if his operation went well or if he were all right. I needed to see for myself.

  My legs wobbled, and I planted myself on the edge of his bed. Arrows of grief drove into my heart. All I saw was a scruffy Colton, sleeping. I felt at any moment his eyes were going to pop open, then I’d be on the receiving end of the familiar smile when he saw me, charmed by the sparkle in his blue eyes. He would bounce up and tackle-hug me.

  A sob spurted from me, and I slammed my hand over my mouth. My shoulders started to shake, and I covered my face. Tears battered at the wall but they stayed back, but a howl of pain broke free instead. I curled over my lap, trying to hold back the onslaught of anguish.

  A hand touched my back. I sat up with a jolt, looking over my shoulder. Hunter’s blue eyes watched me, his hand slipping off me, dropping like a stone to his side.

  “You’re awake.” It came out accusatory. I didn’t like him seeing me a mess like this.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but it closed along with his eyes. Pain carved a grimace into his features.

  I knew that look. I leaned over and clicked his morphine button and waited.

  His face relaxed, and he exhaled. “Thank you.” His lids flickered open.

  “Don’t thank me yet. They took mine away. I might be stealing yours on the way out.”

  He blinked. A barely-there grin hinted at the side of his mouth. It reminded me of Colton, provoking an inferno of animosity inside me, and I glanced away

  “I heard you had another operation today,” I said coolly.

  “Yeah,” he croaked, pushing himself higher on the pillow. “Wasn’t like the brochure. I don’t recommend it.”

  I snorted. “So far nothing about this vacation has been like the pamphlet.”

  The crushing, shattering reality of what happened to us, who we lost, hurtled down on me, like I was actually being crushed underneath Colton’s car this time. It took hold of the air, consuming the space between us. I felt like I might buckle underneath it.

  “I’ve got to go.” My words strangled in my throat, keeping the tears at bay. “I only wanted to see if you were all right.”

  “Jaymerson.” He grabbed my arm.

  “What?”

  His lids drooped, and he wiggled his head back and forth. “Nothing,” he whispered, but his hand didn’t leave mine. Hunter mumbled something I couldn’t understand then sleep consumed him.

  I started to unwrap his fingers, but a need for comfort danced around my broken heart. It was sick and twisted I knew. But for a moment I needed relief from the guilt, anger, and agony. I wanted Colton back. Shocked at my own audacity, I crept in beside Hunter, and curled next to his warm body. I reached out and touched his face, letting myself believe it was Colton.

  “I love you too,” I whispered, saying the words I’d never told him the day of the crash. And now I never would. My hand brushed over his face. The boy next to me let out a sigh, his body relaxing into me.

  In some way it was the goodbye I’d been denied.

  Chapter Seven

  A couple days later, Shelly and I made the long loop. Every day she added on a few more rooms to pass before heading back. It was painful and slow, but I pushed myself to keep going. Usually I only encountered Mr. Goldstein, with his hip replacement, on my expedition.

  Today it was not Mr. Goldstein when I turned the corner. I stopped, oxygen locking in my lungs.

  Hunter and his male nurse were heading directly for us. Using the wheelchair as his walker, Hunter’s face was beet red, perspiration dripping down his forehead.

  “Keep going, baby girl.” Shelly encouraged me to continue walking. My slippers slid across the floor, nearing me to Hunter.

  After the night I said goodbye to Colton, I avoided going near his room, asking Shelly to take me around the other way. The farewell closed one door and opened a dam. The thought of Hunter, even hearing his name, sent venom into my blood. Resentment coiled in my gut. He lived, but Colton was dead. Anger at his survival over Colton’s drove resentment through my thoughts. These emotions stirred through me now, watching him.

  “Come on, man.” The nurse motioned him forward. “A couple more steps.”

  I scoffed at that phrase, having heard the lie so much myself.

  Hunter lifted his head to look at me, his expression held zero sentiment. But his eyes flashed and a nerve in his jaw twitched.

  “Keep going. You’re doing great.” The male nurse motioned for Hunter to keep moving forward. “You’re almost there. See, only a few more steps to the nurses’ station.” Hunter had more than four more rooms to pass before he made it to the destination. Way more than a few painful steps.

  “Screw you, Carl,” Hunter
growled and shuffled his feet over the smooth surface. “I have trouble walking, not seeing.”

  “Wow, someone’s grumpy.” Carl shifted backward, a smirk on his face.

  “Maybe if you didn’t cut off the painkillers,” Hunter grumbled.

  “Need to wean you off of them now before you become an addict.” All of this felt like déjà vu.

  “Too late,” I snorted. The stories of Hunter being heavily into marijuana and harder drugs was frequent chatter around school. Colton never confirmed it, but he didn’t deny it either.

  The muscles along Hunter’s neck strained, his lips pressed against each other, turning white. He rolled the wheelchair forward and blocked my path.

  “Get your chair out of my way,” I snarled as I stared at him.

  “No.” A drop of sweat tracked down the side of his face.

  “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” The words broke over my tongue with incense.

  “Get out of mine,” he snarled back.

  “Hey, hey, hey, let’s not have any of that.” Shelly grabbed my elbow, steering me around him. I pinned my feet to the surface, hunching forward.

  “No! For once you are not going to get your way.” I pushed at his wheelchair, making him wobble.

  “For once? My way? What are you talking about?”

  “You snapped your fingers and Colton ran, no matter what. You’d get yourself in a mess, but your brother always got you out.” My mouth wouldn’t stop; my wrath boiled and popped. “You’re a selfish bastard! All you ever thought of was yourself.” The words kept coming. “This is all your fault,” I seethed. “He wouldn’t have gotten in the car drunk. If it wasn’t for you, he’d still be alive.” Hunter jerked back as if I slapped him. “If he weren’t jumping to your aid again, running when you beckoned, none of this would have happened.” It might not have been true, but it didn’t seem to matter. My arms and legs shook with emotion. “He was always getting you out of trouble. And you continued to use him.”

  “Hey, baby girl. Let’s calm down.” Shelly tried to pull me away, but I yanked out of her grasp.

  “He loved you so much and now he’s dead,” I sobbed.

  “You don’t think I loved him? I wouldn’t have done anything for him?” Hunter’s face flushed, and his cheeks dotted with red specks. “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know enough.”

  Hunter’s face twisted into a fevered sneer.

  “You’re a selfish asshole. A loser.” Rage spat from me.

  Both Carl and Shelly tried to step in, but we didn’t budge, staring each other down.

  “You’re shallow and blind.” He leaned into my face.

  “I. Hate. You.” In a tightly controlled, cold tone, nothing like my own voice, I heard myself say, “I wish it had been you.”

  “So. Do. I.” He met my intensity.

  “Okay, that’s enou—” Shelly stopped mid-sentence as Hunter clasped his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, leaning over the wheelchair.

  “Hey, what’s wrong? You okay?” Carl stepped up to him.

  Hunter nodded, coughing into his hand. Blood sprayed out of his mouth, coating the floor in a foamy pink liquid.

  “Oh no.” Shelly let go of me and ran for Hunter, but she was too late. Hunter’s body dropped, and he fell face-first into the wheelchair, sending it flying against the wall.

  I jumped with a cry.

  He started convulsing violently as more foam pooled around his mouth.

  “Help!” Shelly squatted next to him, yelling down the hall toward the nurses’ station. “Code blue! We have a code blue!”

  “What’s happening?” Both she and Carl ignored me, their attention on Hunter. Three more nurses ran to us, pushing me out of the way. Panic and fear strangled my vocals, making it hard to catch my breath. His body continued to jerk on the tile, blood leaking out the side of his mouth.

  A flash of the night of the accident came back. A brief memory of red and blue lights and people calling out around me. Me, hanging upside down from my seatbelt, turning my head, and seeing Colton. His body bloody and broken, twisted in an unnatural position against the roof of the car.

  Now people shouted medical jargon around me, like a foreign language, their voices intense and constant.

  “Tell me what’s happening to him!” Again, no one acknowledged me.

  Carl and two other nurses got him on a gurney. The entire team sprinted down the hall, driving air into his lungs with a handheld pump. They curved around the corner out of sight. I stood there in the vacated hallway, staring at empty space. It all happened so fast my brain was trying to catch up.

  Dampness nudged my toes and drew my gaze down. Blood stained the front of my cream slippers, dying the tips of them like an Easter egg. Guilt saturated me like the blood on my feet. I just told him I wished he was dead instead of Colton and now he might be.

  What kind of person was I?

  The anger pouring from me was like nothing I had experienced. I was a stranger to myself. It forced an unsettled, unsure emotion inside me, but it also made me feel alive.

  Chapter Eight

  “You ready to head home?” Dad clapped his hands, stepping into the room.

  I nodded, not sure if it was true. The hospital felt safe, and I feared the moment I walked through the doors where reality waited for me.

  “Come on, JayJay.” Dad picked up my bag of personal items they had brought over the weeks. “Your mom is talking to the doctor about your medications and physical therapy.”

  I stood the same moment Shelly rolled in the wheelchair. “Your last ride.”

  My lashes fluttered, and I walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled. “I will miss you.”

  “I will miss you too, baby girl.” She squeezed me back. “But I am happy you are leaving here.” I knew what she meant: I had survived.

  Shelly told me Hunter had suffered a pulmonary embolism, a sudden blockage in a lung artery. The cause is usually a blood clot in the leg. It was nothing I did or the doctors could have foreseen. It didn’t make me feel better, especially learning that during the three days since the event, he had been heavily monitored to make sure he didn’t fall into another coma. They had moved him back to intensive care, so I didn’t see him. Not that I wanted to.

  “Let’s get you home.” Shelly pulled back, nodding toward the wheelchair. I climbed in, and she pushed me forward, my dad following behind.

  “Hey, sweetie.” Mom came trotting up, a huge smile on her face. “How are you? Are you ready to go home?”

  Of course they would ask me this, but I already cringed against the onslaught of dealing with the same questions over and over once I left these walls.

  I smiled, and she clutched my hand, walking next to the chair. Dad ran forward, wanting to have the car ready for me at the curb. We made our way downstairs and out the doors. Our family Subaru idled in front.

  “Keep me updated.” Shelly turned to my mom but patted my arm. “I’ve gotten attached to this one.”

  “We will, Shelly.” Mom engulfed her in a hug, her voice wobbling. “Thank you. For everything. We couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

  During the weeks of my coma, they had gotten to know her well. Shelly had helped them through all the hours of not knowing if I would wake up.

  Shelly came around and assisted me from the chair as Mom dashed forward and opened the back door. Once I was in and belted, Mom gave Shelly another hug and climbed into the passenger seat. Dad pulled the car away, and I waved at Shelly. My gaze never left her till we rounded the corner.

  I faced front, taking a deep breath. Fear of what was ahead of me shredded my intestines. I had always known what was ahead of me, my life and future planned out. Now nothing felt sure. I floated like a balloon, with no clue where I was going or how I felt about anything.

  Mom rattled on, trying to keep the energy up in the car, but I mostly tuned her out, watching the houses rush by. Deep reds an
d oranges colored the leaves, falling from the trees like raindrops. The warm summer weather had changed into crisp autumn as I slept.

  As we turned down our street, Mom interrupted my thoughts. “Everyone is here waiting for you. They’re excited to see you. To have you home again.”

  My back went straight. “Everyone? What are you talking about?”

  Dad glanced in the rearview mirror. “Just a few people to welcome you home.”

  “What?” Seeing people was the last thing I wanted.

  Dad pulled into our driveway. A huge Welcome Home, Jaymerson poster hung across the garage. Cars lined the curb all around our house.

  “We thought you’d love to see everyone. Your grandparents are dying to visit with you. So are your sister and your friends.”

  Dad set the car in park, ran around to my side, and helped me out of the back, handing me a pair of crutches. The doctor wanted to limit the amount of time I was on my legs. I swung them forward, my stomach coiling as we moved up the path.

  No. No. No. My mind rang. I did not want to see anyone, but how could I tell them? It would hurt their feelings.

  The front door swung open, and Grandma Penny, my mom’s mother, came running out, her arms spread open. My grandpa died in the war before I was born. He was who I was named after. She lived in Connecticut but came down when she could. Dad’s parents were right behind her. Grandma Nessa and Grandpa T lived in the college town where my father worked, only forty minutes away, to my mother’s dismay.

  “Jaymerson!” Grandma Penny’s arms encircled me, pulling me into her. My other grandparents surrounded me and embraced me the moment she loosened her grip.

  “JayJay!” My little sister, Reece, came sprinting from the house. Mom grabbed her arm before she barreled into me. Normally I would lean over and pick up her tiny five-year-old body. She was the smallest in her kindergarten class. Reece was a duplicate of our mother. With her round face, light milk-chocolate eyes and dark brown hair, she was adorable and could get away with manslaughter if she tilted her head and smiled big enough. Or pouted.