by Nikki Lane
“What do you think?”
“This kind of brings back memories of how we first met.”
“You shouldn’t be smiling about that. I hated you when we first met.”
“Hate’s a strong word.”
“Okay, I strongly disliked you.”
“That’s better.”
“I haven’t heard from you all day,” I said.
He finished the beer and threw it into the red recycling bin by the sliding glass door.
“Kieran,” Scott called from inside. “You ready, dude?”
“Yep, be right out. I mean in. Out. Whatever. Just hold on a sec.”
I heard the sound of car doors opening and closing around the front of the house. Kieran’s place went from full to empty in just a few minutes.
“Where are you going?” I asked, trying to wrangle in my frustration.
“There’s something going on at somebody’s house on someone’s campus somewhere.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “That made absolutely no fucking sense.”
He gave me an impish grin. “Go and get ready really quick.”
“No,” I replied. “I’m not going.”
“Why?”
“Because, Kieran, we need to be up early tomorrow. We’ve already canceled on her twice before.”
“It’s just my sister.”
“Exactly. Your sister. So, this should be important to you. She practically did a cartwheel when you accepted her invitation.”
“Come with me,” he said, drawing me close.
Someone honked the horn out front. Kieran ignored it. I wanted to go just for the sake of keeping an eye on him. But I couldn’t summon the energy. I wouldn’t have enough time to get ready, and I didn’t want to spend the night extra miserable because I felt like a dirty dishrag.
“I can’t.”
The car honked again. “Stay here with me,” I said. It sounded like pleading, which wasn’t intentional.
His eyes flickered over my face. “You know I’ll just be up all night anyway, keeping you awake.”
“Yeah, but at least we’ll be together.”
He kissed me. “Just for a little while, and then I’ll come back. You won’t even know I was gone.”
I let out a sigh, knowing I wasn’t going to win this one. “Who’s driving?”
“Scott. And before you even ask, because I know you, Rose Samuels”—he laid his hand on the top of my head to tilt my face up—“he hasn’t had a lick to drink.”
I pulled my face away and looked him straight in the eyes. “Promise me something.” A faint shout of Kieran, move you’re fucking ass dissipated in the backyard. “Please don’t overdo it. Okay? I know that’s asking a lot from you. But you have to promise me.”
“I promise,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world to agree to. “Stop worrying so much.” But it wasn’t an accusation. It was more of a waiver. Like he was freeing me from that burden.
“Not possible,” I replied.
I saw Kieran off as he jumped into the car with Scott. I moved my car into my now empty driveway and headed inside to get some sleep.
* * * *
My eyes popped open. I had a sickening feeling in my stomach. I sat up in the dark and reached for my phone. It was nearly four in the morning, and Kieran wasn’t there. I got up and plodded to the window to see if he was home. The lights weren’t on and the truck was in the driveway. But then I remembered he didn’t drive, so that meant I would have to walk over there. But if he was sleeping—because eventually the man had to sleep—that meant I would wake him. But he did tell me he would be here. That I wouldn’t even know he was gone. So, if I took that right, that meant I would wake up next to him. I checked the bed again just to be sure I didn’t miss him in the disorientation of my abrupt awakening.
Nope, wasn’t there.
I decided to text. Fifteen tortuous minutes later and still no response. I fought sleep another ten minutes and called four times. Straight to voicemail. Fuck.
We were supposed to meet Kelly and John at the diner near their house for breakfast at nine. They lived an hour away. That meant we had to be on the road by eight, which meant I had to be up by at least seven. That left three more hours of sleep. And since it took me a few hours to fall asleep in the first place, that meant I would get a total of five hours. Not terrible. But I would feel it the next morning.
I decided to walk to Kieran’s and use the spare key he gave me to see if he was home. When I got to the empty house, I cursed the ten minutes I wasted, not including the fifteen seconds it took me to slip on my flip-flops. Back home, I plopped back into bed, resolving to get back to sleep. But the more I tried the more awake I felt, until I finally gave up trying and turned on the TV.
* * * *
It was 8:30 a.m. and still not a word from Kieran. I’d managed a few minutes of sleep. I paced up and down the kitchen as the phone rang in my ear. I would have to call Kelly and cancel. Again. I made up some excuse that Kieran wasn’t feeling well. At first, she sounded concerned. But when I started to ramble and fumble my words I could tell she started to catch on. And the words not feeling well, to her, probably translated as too hung over to function. But really, to me, they meant I can’t fucking find your brother.
I ended the call, clenching it in my hand to keep from throwing it across the room. I needed it. I needed Kieran to call. To tell me where the fuck he was. Or at the very least, to tell me that he was still alive. My stomach rumbled for food, but I was too nervous to eat. I nursed a bottle of water and busied myself with cleaning the contents of my fridge, trying not to check my phone a hundred times a minute.
Another hour and still no word. The fridge was clean, which meant it was completely empty, save for a few eggs I spared.
The phone rang somewhere in the corner of the house while I brushed my teeth. I resisted the urge to fling myself at the phone. I rinsed and took a deep breath, trying to level out the anger I knew would flare my tone of voice. The wallpaper image of Kieran and me at his sister’s wedding disappeared with the black screen of an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Rose?”
“Scott?”
“Are you with Kieran?”
My heart started to pump faster. “No, I thought he was with you.”
“Can you go to his house and check on him?” There was a frantic edge to his voice.
I didn’t bother with shoes and sped to the door, Scott still on the phone.
“His truck isn’t here,” I said.
“He left the bar last night with some random people, and he’s not picking up the phone.”
“You let him leave?”
“I couldn’t stop him!”
I made my way to the door. “I’m going inside. I’ll call you back.”
“Ro—”
I ended the call and shoved the phone into my back pocket. The handle to Kieran’s front door turned easily. I took a cautious first step inside. Dark. Normal. A mess. Normal. Power Tools. Normal.
“Kieran!”
The couch was empty. I walked a bit farther to the first bedroom. Vacant.
The silence was adding to my anxiety. If this was some stupid joke, I would kill him.
“Kieran,” I said a little lower.
His bedroom door creaked open. There he was on the bed, asleep. I took a deep breath. He’d been located, and he was alive. Now to rouse him from his sleep to rip him a new one.
I sat on the bed, but he didn’t react to the movement.
“Kieran,” I said again.
I shook him a bit. “Kieran, get up.”
He moaned and turned over. That’s when I saw the blood on the sheets. I followed the trail to his hand.
“Oh my God, Kieran!”
I shook him harder. I could see he was breathing. I counted his breaths. A ten-second gap. Fuck. In college, I’d learn to detect the signs of alcohol poisoning. He couldn’t have been home for long because I’d been watching
his house like the cops. Had he been drinking this whole time? I reached for my phone to dial 911. As I did, Kieran woke and started vomiting.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
I desperately held on to the phone while also trying to prevent Kieran from choking on his own vomit. “I need an ambulance please. Possible alcohol poisoning.” I rattled off the address and ended the call.
“Kieran,” I said, patting his face. I was still supporting his weight to keep him from rolling onto his back. “You have to wake up.”
He mumbled something and reached for my face with a bloodied hand. “Rose?”
I guess that was a good sign.
His eyes closed again, and his body tensed. Holy fuck. Kieran was having a seizure in my arms. My adrenaline was in overdrive, and it wasn’t long before the hiccups arrived.
“Kieran, hiccup, Kieran.” There was nothing more I could do. Hiccup. “The ambulance is on their way.”
I held him like an oversized baby.
“No, no hospital,” he mumbled.
“You’re going to die if you don’t go!”
“Don’t you fucking take me to the hos—” Another seizure stole his words before he lost consciousness again.
His skin was clammy and starting to take on a bluish hue. I closed my eyes and prayed for the ambulance to get there. My prayers were answered when red lights filled the house. A robust knock on the door quickly followed.
“It’s open!” I screamed as loud as I could. Hiccup.
I slid out from under Kieran as the EMTs took over. The intensity of the last ten minutes crashed over me like a tsunami. Tears welled in my eyes. I could do nothing but stand there and witness. Witness and wonder why on earth anyone would do this to themselves. What was so broken inside of this man that nothing short of death could make life tolerable.
They loaded Kieran into the ambulance and sped away. I hopped in my car to follow, praying for the second time that day.
Chapter 23
Kieran lay in the hospital bed, a machine beeping, reassuring me he was still alive. I clutched my phone. I had just made the call to Kelly. There was an eerie calmness in her voice. I was relived when she offered to call her parents and tell them the news. A nurse came in to replace his IV bag. He’d been so dehydrated, his body sucked up the first one in no time.
I slid the chair closer to the bed. A large bandage was wrapped around his hand. He’d needed stitches, but luckily he hadn’t broken any bones. Save for the white noise of medical equipment and activity in the hallway, the room was quiet. Kieran’s breathing finally stabilized. His broad chest rose and fell. I was sure I only had a few more moments alone with him.
His hand twitched, and I stilled, wondering if it was an involuntary movement or a spark of consciousness. The doctor had put him into a medically-induced coma to help his brain heal from the trauma. I held his good hand and laid my head against his arm.
* * * *
It’d been two days since Kieran was admitted to the hospital. The doctor decided it was safe to reverse the coma. I’d been sitting by his bedside for hours, waiting for him to wake. I hadn’t left the room much, either. I’d gone home to shower and change yesterday before stopping at Dad’s to check on him. When I’d looked in the bathroom mirror, I winced. Undereye circles and some stress-induced acne.
“Rose?”
I stood up, clutching Kieran’s hand. “I’m here.”
He licked his dry lips. “What happened?”
I ran my fingers through his hair. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
I’d called Scott back to share the news, but he was no help with filling in the holes of that night.
He lifted his bandaged hand. “Vending machine.”
“What?” I said.
They were sending him for an MRI soon to check for any damage caused by the seizures. He wasn’t making any sense, and I hoped this wasn’t predicative of the results.
“My head hurts.”
“I’m not surprised. I’ll call the nurse.”
Moments later, Kieran was getting his vitals checked. They’d tried to take blood, but Kieran wasn’t having it. I wanted to say something, but he’d only been up a few minutes, and I didn’t want our first conversation to be an argument.
“When can I get out of here?” Kieran asked the nurse.
“As soon as you get the doctor’s okay,” she said without missing a beat.
She left the room to check another patient.
“Have big plans?” I said.
He tried to readjust himself in the bed. “I hate hospitals.”
“No one likes hospitals, Kieran.” I moved his pillow into a more comfortable position. “You almost died.”
“It’ll take more than that to kill me,” he said.
I was startled by how casually he said the words.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
Our eyes met and his face dropped when he saw the tears stinging my eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when his parents came into the room. I’d called them earlier that day to let them know he’d be waking up soon.
“Kieran, thank God.” His mother practically flung herself at him. “You’re going to be okay.”
I stood at the edge of the room. Kieran’s dad wasn’t so emotional. His stern face was menacing.
“I thought they only let two visitors at a time,” Kieran said.
“I’ll just be out in the hall,” I said, grabbing my purse.
I’d hunt down a vending machine. It didn’t feel right hanging around.
“Rose,” Kieran said. “Stay.”
“Kieran, your parents are worried. I’ll be back in a bit.”
The look of despair on his face was painful.
“Thank you, Rose,” his mother said.
“Yes, Rose, thank you. If you hadn’t checked on Kieran like you did, he wouldn’t be here.”
I gave a meek smile and slid from the room. In the hallway, Kelly was coming out of the elevators.
“How is he?” she said.
“He’s awake. Your parents are in there now.”
“Damn, I was hoping to get here before them.” She took a deep breath like she was about to run through a burning building.
“He’s not too happy about it,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “When is he ever?”
“He doesn’t remember much yet.””
She leaned against the wall, a generic art print hanging just above her shoulders. “He didn’t remember much last time, either. It’ll come back to him eventually.”
My stomach dropped. “He’s done this before?”
Kelly looked over my shoulder, maybe waiting for fireworks to shoot out of Kieran’s room. “About three months after Aiden died, he drank himself incoherent. It didn’t land him in the hospital, though. It was this about two years ago when the accident happened.”
It was a little stab in the gut that Kieran never told me it was the anniversary of his brother’s death. “He never said anything.”
Kelly didn’t look surprised. “There are a lot of things he doesn’t say. Even to us.”
We watched as Kieran was wheeled away for his MRI. His parents talked with a doctor in the hallway. Dr. Branson. Kieran’s dad shook his hand before the doctor moved on.
* * * *
Kieran’s body relaxed a bit more when his parents and sister left the hospital. The bag of trail mix I’d eaten had done little to fill my stomach. I lifted the lid to Kieran’s food tray. Steam hovered over a small cup of soup. Broccoli and a piece of chicken sat on a plate.
“You should try eating something,” I said.
“You don’t have to stay.” His face scrunching at the sight of the food. “I know you haven’t left this room in days.”
“You keep saying that. I’m starting to think you don’t want me here.”
He reluctantly took the spoon I held out. “It’s not that at all.”
I was trying my best not to be mad
. Not take the bowl of soup and dump it into his lap. I’d give him a chance to recoup first. The sight of him was sad enough. His cracked lips met the spoon, and he cringed. Purple circles swept under his eyes.
He set the spoon down. “This taste’s like shit.”
“You look like the walking dead. You need something other than alcohol in your stomach.”
“I don’t want to be here.” He laid his head on the pillow.
“It’s just until your MRI comes back.”
“That could take days.”
I sat down on the pleather reclining chair. It had been my bed for the last few nights. “It won’t take days.”
Kieran sat up. “We’re going.”
“Very funny,” I said.
The blanket the nurse had given me covered either my top half or bottom, but not both.
Kieran swung his legs to one side of the bed. He’s been getting up and down to use the bathroom, but he was still connected to an IV.
“Kieran, what the hell are you doing?”
He turned off the machine monitoring his blood pressure and ripped the cuff of his arm. Next, he skillfully pulled the IV out of his arm.
“Kieran!”
“Where are my clothes?” he said, standing up.
“Your sister brought you a bag.”
I watched as he trudged to the bag and started to dress. He discarded the hospital gown and stood stark ass naked, rummaging for his boxers. All we needed now was a nurse to breeze in and witness his display.
“Get your stuff,” he said to me, snapping the band of his boxer briefs around his waist.
“Get back into the bed.” I stood up and let the blanket fall to the floor. Ugh. I’d have to ask for another one. “Stop messing around.
“I’m not kidding, Rose. I’m leaving. Let’s go.” He slipped a shirt over his head.
“You can’t just walk out of here. Look at you.”
“I feel fine.”
“You are not fine!”
Kieran looked over his shoulder, probably checking for a nurse.
“I want to be in my own bed.” He closed the distance between us. “Please, Rose. Don’t make me stay here.”
The look in his eyes tore me apart. I wanted to hate him. But I couldn’t. I could see the pain in his eyes, and I wasn’t sure if it was physical or emotional. Probably both. I’d seen the look on him before. It wasn’t the look of a crazy person; it was the look of heartache.
