Waiting on You

by Kristan Higgins

  "I'm right here," Faith said. "You okay? Want me to come with you?"

  "That'd be great. Thanks, pal."

  "Oh, hang on, I have to puke. Be right back."

  "Next," Colleen said as Faith bolted, Levi on her heels.

  Gerard patted her leg. "Ready to take a ride?"

  "I've been ready for thirty minutes, Gerard."

  "Are you complaining? Because I can tell Ned to hit a lot of potholes on the way to the E.R." He checked something on his iPad. "Hey, Yanks are up by five. So who's going with you?"

  "I am," Mom and Connor said in unison.

  Lucas looked at her. "I am," he said.

  "He is," Colleen agreed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE CHAIRS IN the waiting room were ridiculously uncomfortable. That, and Connor O'Rourke glaring at him made for a long evening.

  When they got to the emergency room, Colleen sent Lucas to wait, and the nurse glared at him until he obeyed. He didn't like being away from her, and he didn't like how quiet she'd gotten in the ambulance. She seemed fine, going through her shtick with Gerard, but there was something else going on, too.

  Things were getting complicated.

  For a long time, he'd very effectively put aside his feelings for Colleen. From that moment when Ellen had told him she was pregnant, he gave up the right to think about Colleen, and certainly to miss her.

  But those feelings ran under his life like a subterranean river, and every once in a while, something would crumble, undermined by the current. He dreamt of her smiling with those clear, dark gray eyes, that wise, knowing smile, and he'd follow her into an empty room, thinking finally, finally they were together again...and then he'd jerk awake, and hear Ellen's soft breathing and remember that he had a wife now. He'd taken vows. He couldn't betray that with memories of someone else.

  But.

  She was always there, that river of dark, fast water.

  "So you're working for my mother, and you're nosing around my sister," Connor said, speaking at last. They'd been waiting for more than an hour now.

  "He does beautiful work, Connor," Mrs. O'Rourke said mildly. She was reading People magazine. "Which you would know, if you ever came over. Oh, dear. Justin Bieber broke up with his girlfriend. Sad. Connor, what did you think of Stan?"

  "He's very hairy." Connor resumed the death stare.

  Lucas didn't care. He was here, and he'd be here until he could see that Colleen was okay.

  He'd seen her watching her father, not paying attention to the game, and a prickle of warning went through him. Almost before Paulie hit the ball, he was on his feet, somehow knowing Colleen was about to be hurt, and Jesus, her head stopped that ball cold, and then she was on her knees, and for the love of God, made the damn play. And then she went down as if she were dead.

  Then he was kneeling at her side, and someone yelled, "Don't move her!" He didn't; he just put his hand on her back to see if she was breathing, and thank the sweet Christ child, she was. "Mia? Sweetheart?" he said, his voice rough.

  "Ow," she groaned. "My head! Why did you hit me, Connor?"

  Jeremy Lyon checked her, and Levi called it in. Her little sister had been crying, and both Gail and Pete O'Rourke hustled her away.

  A concussion was serious business these days. Especially when it happened on town property. When Lucas was a kid, he'd fallen out of the second-story window of Tommy O'Shea's house and was out cold for ten minutes. His biggest concern was the wrath of Mrs. O'Shea, who'd told the boys to be silent during her soap opera. "Got a pretty good lump," his father had said when Lucas had gone to the garage to show him. "Get some ice on it."

  Now, though...9-1-1 and ambulances and doctors. Probably a good thing.

  "Why are you even here?" Connor snapped.

  "Because he cares, Connor. Back off," Mrs. O'Rourke said. "They may be getting back together, right, Lucas?"

  "You're not getting back together with my sister," Connor said.

  "Oh, please," Mrs. O'Rourke said. "He's her first love. And you know how powerful that can be, Connor."

  "Save me," Connor muttered.

  A tiny Asian girl came into the waiting room. She looked to be about thirteen, but she wore a white doctor's coat and had a stethoscope around her neck. "Hi! I'm Dr. Chu! How's everyone tonight?" She waited for an answer. "Is everyone here for Colleen O'Rourke?"

  "Yes," Lucas said.

  "I figured. It's a superslow night. She's the only one here. I was watching Game of Thrones on my phone before she came in, and I was like, yay, finally! A patient!"

  "I'm her brother, and this is our mom," Connor said. He didn't bother to explain Lucas.

  "Excellent! Are you twins? You guys look totally alike."

  "They're twins, all right," Mrs. O'Rourke said. "Connor weighed eight pounds, three ounces, and Colleen was seven-fourteen."

  "You're a champ!" Tiny Asian Girl said. She looked at him. "And you're the husband?"

  "He's not the husband," Connor growled.

  "Her first love," Mrs. O'Rourke said.

  "Aw! Totally romantic!" the doctor said. "Well, she has a closed head injury, which is a cool way of saying, whoopsy, concussion! Right? We just wanted to observe her for a little while, make sure she didn't puke or anything. That can be a bad sign. But she's fine! No emesis--that's medical speak for puking--and no signs of disorientation. She turned down the CAT scan, which is totally what I would do, too. Why expose yourself to radiation for a bump on the noggin, right?"

  She beamed at the three of them, and, getting no response, looked back at her clipboard. "She needs someone to watch her tonight and just do a couple checks, wake her up and see how she feels. If you can't wake her up or if she seems confused, or if she stops breathing, most definitely call 9-1-1, okay? No Motrin or aspirin for forty-eight hours. Just an ice pack. Do you have any questions?"

  "How old are you?" Connor asked.

  "I'm twenty-three. Almost twenty-four. Graduated early, kind of a prodigy, not to brag. Any other questions about Colleen? She's totally pretty, by the way."

  "People say she looks like me," Jeanette said.

  "Really? Okay, yeah! I see it! Great rapport with family, check! Well, I think we're done here, people, so it's, like, back to the beheadings for me!" She practically skipped off.

  A nurse wheeled Colleen into the waiting room. "Someone's ready to go home," the nurse said.

  "And guess who it is? I'll give you a hint. It's me," Colleen said, pulling a face.

  "How do you feel?" Mrs. O'Rourke asked.

  "Fine."

  "I'll stay with you tonight," Mrs. O'Rourke announced. Lucas tried not to smile as Colleen flinched.

  She looked at him. "Um...Lucas can take me home," she said, and something moved in his chest.

  "I'll take you home," Connor said.

  "Lucas will take me home, bossy-pants. Right, Lucas?"

  "Right."

  "The doctor said you need someone to stay with you tonight," Connor stated.

  "Nah."

  "Connor, she wants him to stay with her," Mrs. O'Rourke said. "So they can make amends."

  "I'll stay with you," Connor said.

  "No one's staying with me," Colleen repeated.

  "I'm staying with you," Lucas said.

  "Fine! Lucas is staying with me," she snapped. "For an hour. Now can I please get going? I want to take a shower."

  *

  HE DROVE HER to her house and followed her up the stairs to the second floor. There was a note taped to the door.

  We walked Rufus. Sorry about the puking. Call me when you get home. xoxox Faith

  Added in different handwriting was Next time, use your glove. Levi.

  Colleen smiled as she read it.

  "You have nice friends," he said.

  "I certainly do." She unlocked the door and went in, and he followed. A deer walked into the kitchen. Check that. It was her giant dog, who bayed a few times, then aimed straight for his crotch. Lucas wrestled the beast's head
away, which resulted in the dog collapsing as if shot and rolling over on his back.

  "Impressive," Lucas murmured. "You should probably get him neutered."

  "He is neutered. Okay, I'm gonna take a shower."

  "Call me if you need me."

  She rolled her eyes, winced and left the room.

  Lucas took a look around. The apartment had high ceilings and tall, narrow windows. The kitchen walls were painted warm yellow, the chairs were red and blue, and it was cheerfully cluttered, pictures on the fridge, a bowl of peaches on the counter, a few catalogs, the dog's tartan-plaid leash. The living room had a fireplace filled with white birch logs and a nice view of the street. Her furniture was cheerful: a polka-dotted chair and a soft-looking red couch, a coffee table with a small bookshelf underneath.

  Family photos, mostly of her and Connor and Savannah, were everywhere. Here was one of her and her cousins, a whole bunch of them. Colleen at age twelve or so on a sailboat. One of Rufus and Savannah, lying on the floor, the girl using the dog as a giant pillow, reading a book. A bride--Faith--hugging her, both of them laughing.

  That thing moved again in his chest.

  All these years, Colleen had stayed in this little town. She seemed to be friends with everyone--Bryce and Levi and the British guy Tom and just about everyone he remembered from high school. She worked with her twin. Adored her sister, that was clear.

  Colleen was tied to this community in a way that Lucas couldn't imagine. Sure, he was a Southie, but his time away had made him suspect in the eyes of those who'd stayed. He didn't belong anymore, and that was fine. He'd left when he was fifteen, after all. When he and Ellen divorced, he'd moved from the Gold Coast neighborhood (and where Lucas had always felt like an impostor) to an apartment building near Irving Park.

  But even though he knew Chicago like the back of his hand, sometimes he got lost driving home. Not because he didn't remember how to get where he was going, but because he wasn't sure where he was supposed to be.

  Rufus gave a little moan and stretched out his paws. The dog had to be more than six feet long.

  The water shut off in the bathroom, and he heard the sound of the curtain moving. "You hungry, Colleen?" he asked.

  "No," she said, cracking the door a little. "I ate before the game. But I'll probably lay waste to some Ben & Jerry's, even so."

  She came out a few minutes later, wearing white cotton pajamas and looking like a freakin' supermodel.

  "Feeling okay?" he asked.

  "A lot better." She checked her answering machine. "Ooh! Sixteen messages, and ten more on my cell. I feel like prom queen."

  Except she hadn't gone to her prom.

  The memory flickered across her face, too. Before he could say anything, though, she pressed the button to listen to her fans expressing their concern.

  Her face fell with each message. She checked her phone, too. Then she walked over to her computer, touched a key and scrolled through her emails.

  "Well. I guess I can return those tomorrow," she said. There was a small note of sadness in her voice.

  "Come sit down," he said, taking a seat on her sofa. She did. Didn't look at him, just curled into herself and stared straight forward.

  He put his arm around her--dangerous, that--but he was helpless not to. Pulled her against him, even though she resisted a little.

  She fit the same as she always had, the feeling old and new at the same time.

  "That was quite a play you didn't make today," he said.

  "You mean stopping the ball with my head?"

  "I meant the one before that." He kissed her damp hair. "You're a good sister."

  He heard her swallow thickly. "Did my father check on me?" she asked in a small voice. "While I was out?"

  Lucas hesitated. "He knew you were okay."

  "In other words, no." Her breathing hitched. "Ah, shit," she whispered. "I'm jealous of a nine-year-old. My father's a prick, and I still want him to pat me on the head and tell me I'm a good girl. How stupid is that?"

  "It's not stupid. It's human."

  "What's wrong with me?" she asked. "I have this thing for men who reject me." Her dog came over and put his enormous head in her lap. "Except you, Rufus."

  She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then extricated herself from him and the dog and went over to the phone. Dialed in angry jabs. "Hi. This is the other daughter, the one who went to the hospital. Yeah. Whatever. Put Savannah on." She took a shaky breath, then changed her tone to chipper. "Hey, sweetie! No, don't cry, really. I'm perfectly fine. They don't let you use your phone in the E.R. No, no. I'm home. Yep. Rufus is taking good care of me. I'm gonna eat ice cream and watch movies. Okay, honey. Hey. You did great tonight. I was so proud of you." She smiled. "You bet. Nighty-night."

  She hung up and stood there for a second, looking into space. "Lucas," she said carefully, "I can't fall in love with you again."

  The words hit him hard. As if sensing that, the dog shifted his giant head to Lucas's leg and licked his chops.

  "And yet, I can't stay away from you. You're horribly irresistible. It's very embarrassing." She gave a half smile, but her eyes were serious.

  He lifted Rufus's head from his lap and went to her. "Colleen," he began, and he didn't know what would've come out of his mouth then, but his phone rang.

  Damn it.

  It rang again, and he pulled it out to silence it.

  "Answer it," she said.

  "No."

  "It might be Joe." She took a step back and picked up her own phone and started texting.

  He sighed, took his phone out of his pocket and looked. Ellen. He glanced at Colleen, who was still tapping away at her phone. "Hey," he said.

  "Hi, Lucas. How are you? How's Uncle Joe?"

  "Holding his own, more or less."

  "Good." She paused. "So I'm coming to town next week. I think I might have a lead on something for you, divorcewise."

  "Great."

  "Got any idea on where I might stay?"

  He looked at Colleen. "I'll email you some places." He paused. "You okay to fly?"

  "Sure, sure. So okay, I'll let you know when I'm coming in. It'll be good to see you."

  "You, too. Thanks for calling."

  He hung up. Looked at Colleen. Her face was neutral.

  "The wife?" she asked, though it was obvious she knew who it was.

  "The ex-wife."

  She nodded. "So. Back to what I was saying. Thank you for driving me home. But we shouldn't...get involved. Even if you're very gorgeous and so am I and all that."

  "I think we should talk, Colleen," he said.

  "Faith will be here any minute. Pajama party. Girls only, I'm afraid."

  "Colleen--"

  "Lucas, you have a life back in Chicago. I have one here. It's just stupid to get all tangled up. I...I can't do that. I only have flings. Since you, I haven't had a real boyfriend. Just flings. And that's fine. I like it that way. I'm kind of a slut, in fact."

  He remembered her kissing that other guy, and the long-ago memory still ached, like a bruise that had faded but not quite healed. "I doubt that," he said.

  "Well, read the bathroom walls, then." She swallowed, and shifted her gaze to outside the window. "But I don't think I could have a fling with you."

  "Mia, don't--"

  "No, please. I mean, as irresistible as you are, I'd get hurt, you'd leave, I'd hate you again, and I don't hate you now, and I'd rather not hate you ever again. Okay?"

  The door to the apartment opened, and in bounded a golden retriever. "Did someone call a landscape architect and her faithful puppy?" Faith said. She came into the living room, cradling four pints of Ben & Jerry's in her arms. "Oh. Hey, Lucas."

  "Faith."

  She looked back and forth between them. "Um...want me to go?"

  "No," Colleen answered. "He was just leaving." She turned to Lucas. "Thank you very much for staying with me. See you around."

  She was right. He'd be leaving again. Soon. Whatever
he found himself thinking whenever he was around her was just that. Thought. She was being the smart one here, and he should be grateful.

  "I'm glad you're okay," he said, and with that, he extricated himself from the golden retriever, who was attempting to mount his leg, and left.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "THIS FOOD ISN'T worth eating," Joe said, pushing back his plate.

  "Give it a try, unc. It's not that bad." He pushed the Cream of Wheat back, and Joe took a spoonful and grimaced.

  "I'd kill for a Big Mac," he said.

  "And the Big Mac would kill you," Lucas answered.

  "But what a way to go," Joe said. "All that gorgeous sodium." He grinned, a shadow of the old Joe.

  He was at Lucas's rented apartment in the old opera house--a nice change of scenery, he'd said. But the climb to the second floor seemed to take the last of his energy. Dialysis was supposed to make him feel better, but better was a relative term when you had cancer on top of kidney failure.

  Joe pulled out his pocket watch. Lucas used to love seeing it when Joe came to Chicago to visit, hearing the story of their ancestor and how he'd fought so bravely at Antietam, how the watch was given to him by the major whose life he'd saved. Being the older son, Joe had inherited it from his father. Too soon, Bryce would have the watch, who hopefully would have a son or daughter to give it to someday, as well.

  "I need you to handle some things," Joe said now. He frowned. "I called Ellen. Hope that was okay. I couldn't remember if I talked to you about it."

  "She called me."

  "Good. Well. Didi's idiot brother is our lawyer, and obviously I can't trust him." Joe idly stroked the pocket watch. "I sold an app a couple months ago, and I want Bryce to get it for a nest egg."

  "Good for you, Joe." Lucas smiled.

  "Yeah, it was fun. Remember 'Rat-Whacker'?"

  "How could I forget?"

  "Well, this is slightly more sophisticated." His smile faded. "Ellen said she'll check on that for me. But about the funeral...Bryce won't be up for it, and Didi will do whatever she thinks will win her the most social points."

  "What would you like done?"

  "I love that old stone church. Trinity Lutheran. And for the eulogy, I thought it would be nice if...well. I want Bryce to do it."

  For a second, Lucas had thought Joe had been about to ask him. But obviously, his son would make more sense. "Of course."

  "And here are some songs I want played at my wake. None of those drippy hymns, okay?" He handed Lucas a list. U2, the Stones, Pearl Jam, and Lucas had to smile. Unc had great taste in music.