If There's No Tomorrow

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Autopsies and blood samples.

  Was that all they were now?

  “The school is letting students attend the funerals if they want. The absence won’t be held against them.”

  That was...nice of the school. I imagined there would be a lot of people at the funerals. The guys were super popular. So was Megan. A stupid thought flickered through my head: How would they play football Friday night? It was their opening game. They would be missing three...three starting players.

  I bet they had a team of grief counselors at the school. A sophomore had died last year from cancer and there’d been extra counselors brought in.

  “Mom is going to Megan’s funeral tomorrow,” Lori said, and I stiffened. “I don’t know if she’s going to tell you ahead of time. She didn’t want me telling you about the funerals, but I thought you should know.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  Several minutes passed. An eternity it seemed, but not long enough.

  “You don’t have to talk about it now. You don’t even have to think about it,” my sister said quietly. “But you’re going to have to, Lena. At some point, you’re going to have to face what happened. You just don’t have to right now.”

  * * *

  Thursday morning they moved me into general recovery. There was less serious-looking equipment in this room and more chairs. In my new room, they had the top of my bed inclined to help with breathing, and after I went through several rounds of breathing treatments, they had me up, walking back and forth in the hallway outside. The nurse walked alongside me, holding the back of my gown closed.

  Walking was exhausting.

  According to the doctor, I wouldn’t be fully healed for about two weeks, and during this time I would tire out easily, but I had to keep moving to make sure I didn’t end up with fluid in my lungs or a blood clot.

  Before the accident, I would’ve been scared witless of fluid in my lungs or a blood clot. I’d think every pain in my leg or half breath was a harbinger of death. I’d be Googling the symptoms nonstop.

  Now?

  I...I just didn’t care.

  As I shuffled down the hall, I thought about how a blood clot would be quick. Wouldn’t it? Like the very second it broke loose, it would be over.

  Just like the moment the car hit the tree. It was over for Megan and Chris and Phillip. There one second, and gone in the next heartbeat.

  Lori would be heading back to Radford that weekend, since Dr. Arnold was pretty positive I’d be released on Sunday, Monday by the latest.

  Life would go back to normal for the most part.

  But it wouldn’t.

  Life would never be normal.

  Mom told me she’d gone to Megan’s funeral.

  “It was lovely, the way they handled it with her and Chris.” She’d paused. “When you’re ready, we can visit their resting place.”

  That was all she’d said about it.

  Now she was sitting in the chair by the window. The glass was spotted, like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while, and for some reason I was fascinated by that. It was a hospital. How could there be dead flies on the windowsills?

  Mom hadn’t asked me what I was thinking when I got into the car. After the outburst in the ICU, she was a pillar of strength. Blond hair smoothed into a coiffed ponytail. Black yoga pants defuzzed. The swelling in her eyes hadn’t gone down, though, and I had this sinking suspicion when she drove home or when I slept, she let the control crack.

  She was crying a lot.

  Like she had in the months after Dad had left us.

  “I checked in with the school on the way here,” she told me, closing the magazine she’d been skimming. “They’re aware that you won’t be starting until the third week.” She shoved the magazine into her tote. “I’m sure you’re ready to get back to it.”

  I didn’t care about going to school. How was I supposed to care about that when Megan wasn’t going back? When Cody and Phillip and Chris were also gone? Nothing about that seemed fair.

  Nothing about the accident was.

  Like how...how did I survive? Because out of everyone, it shouldn’t have been me.

  “The teachers have been amazing,” she continued. “They’ve been collecting work. I believe Sebastian will be bringing it over to the house tomorrow.”

  Sebastian.

  How could I see him again?

  How could I see Abbi or Dary again, because I knew... I remembered enough to know that I...I shouldn’t have gotten in the car. I shouldn’t have let Megan. I should’ve—

  Shifting in my bed, I looked up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly. Wetness gathered in my eyes. How was I supposed to walk into that school when everyone else was dead? When Megan wouldn’t be waiting at my locker for me to head to volleyball practice? When she wouldn’t be giving me my weekly Friday lecture in the most obnoxious way possible?

  When I didn’t answer, Mom looked over at the books Lori had brought for me. They sat on the little stand. “Have you already read them?” she asked. “If you give me a list, I can grab the ones you haven’t read.”

  I hadn’t touched the pile of books. I wasn’t sure if I’d read them or not. Drawing in a shallow breath, I focused on the TV. Mom had turned it on a national news channel. “The books are fine.”

  Mom didn’t respond for a long minute. “You’re able to have visitors now. I know—”

  “I don’t want visitors.”

  Mom frowned. “Lena.”

  “I don’t want...anyone here,” I repeated.

  “Lena, I know Abbi and Dary are planning to come see you. So is Sebastian.” She scooted forward, keeping her voice low. “They’ve been waiting until—”

  “I don’t want to...see them.” I turned my head toward her. “I just don’t.”

  Her eyes widened. “I think it would be very good for you to see them, especially after—”

  “After Megan died? After Cody and the guys died?” I snapped as my pulse picked up. The stupid heart monitor matched its tempo. “You think it would be good for me to see my friends, knowing...that I let everyone get in the car and they died?”

  “Lena.” Mom rose, coming closer to the bed. She put her hand on the headboard and leaned over me. “You weren’t the sole person responsible that night. Yes, you made a severely bad choice, but you are not the sole—”

  “I wasn’t drinking,” I said, and watched the blood drain from my mom’s face. “I remember that. I had...a few sips earlier in the night. If they tested me...when I came in, they would’ve seen I...I wasn’t drunk. So I...I was sober. I could’ve driven.” My voice cracked. “I should’ve driven.”

  Mom slowly pushed away from the bed and sat down heavily in the chair. “Then why didn’t you?” Her voice was thick.

  “I don’t know.” I clutched the edge of the blanket, causing my left arm to ache. “I guess I...I didn’t want to...”

  “Want to what, Lena?”

  The next breath I took hurt. “I didn’t want to...to be the person who makes a big deal out of things.”

  “Oh. Oh, baby.” Mom placed her hand over her mouth and then closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Probably because there was nothing to say.

  I remembered standing outside the car now. I remembered watching Cody reach for the door handle and miss. And I remembered asking if he was okay and then caving to the pressure around me.

  I remembered.

  A knock interrupted us. Mom tensed, dropping her hand. I looked over, and I...I felt nothing and everything in one instance.

  Dad stood in the doorway.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I hadn’t seen Dad in four years.

  The last time had been in the kitchen, sitting at the table. He and Mom had been waiting for me and Lori to get home from school, and I think I’d known what was happening the moment I’d walked into the kitchen. Mom had been red eyed.

  Lori hadn’t seen it coming.

  Dad now looked... He looked o
lder, but good. There were more lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, and his hair was more salt-and-pepper than brown, but he looked like life was going smoothly for him in Seattle.

  Dad used to be a developer. His company—Wise Home Industries—was responsible for more than half of the homes built in the last two decades. Then the housing market slammed face-first into rock bottom and Dad had to make cuts and the jobs slowed before stopping, and then he had to close the business. Money stopped flowing in. Things got tight.

  And he couldn’t handle it.

  He’d bailed on Mom and us, moved to Seattle of all places, to find himself or some crap. The last I heard, he’d started working for some advertising firm.

  I thought I’d feel something stronger than mild annoyance or surprise. I’d spent years ignoring his phone calls. Years being ticked off at him. And now I was just empty. Probably had something to do with the painkillers pumping through my system.

  His hazel eyes shifted to Mom before settling on me. A lopsided smile formed as he shuffled over to the bed. He cleared his throat as he stared down at me. “You look... You look...”

  Like I’d been in a car accident? Like I’d had two collapsed lungs, a swollen jaw and face, and a fractured arm? Like I went to a party and made a series of really bad decisions I couldn’t even begin to unravel in my head? Like I’d basically let my friends die?

  Exactly how did I look?

  He stopped beside my bed, his posture stiff and unnatural. “I’m glad to see you.”

  What was I supposed to say to that?

  Rising from her seat, Mom leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I’m going to grab something to eat.” She straightened, sending a pointed look in my father’s direction. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Part of me wanted to demand that she stay because she wanted Dad here, not me, but I let her go. Dealing with my dad was nowhere near punishment enough for everything that had happened.

  Dad nodded at her and then walked around the bed to sit in her chair. If Lori was here, she would be coming out of her skin with excitement to see him. They still talked. Not often, but they did.

  He lowered his clasped hands to his knees as his gaze traveled over me. Several moments passed. “How are you feeling?”

  I started to shrug, but my ribs protested. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Kind of hard to imagine that you feel okay after everything,” he said, stating the obvious. “Your mother said you should be going home this weekend and that the doctor expects you to heal up without any complications.”

  “That’s...what he’s been saying.” I slipped a finger under the cast, trying to get at an itch.

  Dad was quiet for several moments. “I don’t know where to start, Lena. Getting that phone call from your mother was one...was one of the worst things to happen. I know you’ve been through a lot and I don’t want to add to it.”

  “Then don’t,” I said, voice low and hoarse.

  “But what happened could’ve been avoided,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken, and he was right, so right, but I didn’t want to hear him saying it. “This wasn’t just an accident. You kids made some—”

  “Are you...seriously going to lecture me?” I coughed out a hard laugh and then winced. “For real?”

  Shoulders tensing, he took a visible deep breath. “I understand. I get it, Lena. I haven’t been around, but I’ve been calling you. I’ve been trying to—”

  “You left and we didn’t hear from you for two years.” How could he ignore that tiny little fact? And waltz back into my life with a phone call?

  “I’m sorry,” he was quick to say, and maybe he even meant it, but right then and right now, that apology was as empty as our house. “But I am still your father, Lena.”

  “Yeah, you’re my father, but I stopped thinking of you that way the...moment you walked out that front door and disappeared for two years.” My ribs ached with each word. “How...can you say anything to me?”

  The centers of his cheeks flushed. “Lena—”

  “I don’t want to...do this right now,” I told him, clamping my eyes shut and wishing, no, praying, that he’d disappear. That all of this would just disappear. That I could walk out of this room and disappear. “I don’t want to talk. I’m...tired and I...I just want to be left alone.”

  Dad didn’t respond, and I turned my cheek to the other side, keeping my eyes closed until I heard his footsteps, until I was sure he’d left the room like I knew he would.

  And I knew I wouldn’t see him again.

  * * *

  I’d dozed off after Dad had left and timed meds had been shot into my IV. I had no idea if Mom or Lori had come back in the room after that or if they’d spent time with him. I’d almost guarantee that Lori had, and despite my own personal issues with him, I didn’t hold that against her. Just because our relationship had shattered, didn’t mean their relationship had to end.

  I had no idea how long I slept. I knew it wasn’t long. Sleeping in a hospital was nearly impossible. There were so many noises. Machines kicking on and off. Footsteps out in the hall. Distant conversation. Codes being called out. I only ever slept a few hours, and when I woke this time, I came to thinking about the time Megan had attempted to reenact a routine she’d seen performed on Dance Moms in my living room.

  She’d sprained her ankle.

  And broken the vase on the coffee table.

  Coach had been so ticked off. She was out of several games, and I could barely keep a straight face while he yelled at her.

  Megan was such a dork.

  Heaviness settled in the center of my chest and it had nothing to do with my screwed-up lungs or aching ribs. Seconds ticked by as I lay there and slowly I realized I wasn’t alone.

  Over the scent of cleaning supplies and that weird antiseptic hospital scent, I smelled something fresher. Not my mother’s vanilla perfume or the raspberry lotion Lori wore. This smelled like the outdoors, like pine and cedarwood.

  Air lodged in my throat, and my eyes flew open. I turned my head just the slightest, and there he was, sitting in the chair by the spotted window.

  Sebastian’s face was turned to the side. He was looking out the window, and all I could see was his profile, but it was enough to tell me everything. Faint stubble covered the hard line of his jaw. His elbow was on the arm of the chair, his chin in his palm. He was paler than I was used to seeing him. His hair was a mess, falling onto his forehead.

  What was he doing here?

  I’d told Mom I didn’t want visitors. I wasn’t ready to see him or Abbi or Dary or anyone, really.

  I didn’t make a sound, but he turned his head in my direction. Deep shadows were carved into the skin under those beautiful eyes the color of a sky at night, and those eyes were full to the brim. They looked haunted.

  Our gazes met and held. For a second, he didn’t move. I wasn’t even sure he breathed. He just stared at me like he never expected to do so again...and I guessed he hadn’t, for a period of time.

  Sebastian’s gaze moved, searching my face, lingering on the swollen and bruised side. He opened his mouth, but there were no words. He didn’t speak for a long moment, and I almost wished he wouldn’t. That he’d stay quiet, because hearing his voice would remind me of before, of every stupid thing I’d worried about right up to Saturday night. Of every dumb moment I’d wasted. Remind me of why I’d left that party.

  “What are...you doing here?” I whispered.

  His eyes drifted shut and his features tightened as if he were in pain. A moment passed before his eyes opened, and there was a rawness to them I’d never seen before. “God,” he rasped out. “Part of me wants to ask you what in the hell kind of question that is, but all I can think about is that you’re actually talking. That you’re still here.”