Page 41 of Until Waverly

To be expected. What I was saying is that nightmares are normal. Anxiety attacks, panic, anger—those are all to be expected as you recover. This card is from a friend of mine who is a great therapist, who deals specifically with PTSD patients. Give her a call if all of this gets to be too much. You don’t have to worry about being judged.

Dr. Jay’s words rolled through my mind. Was all this some kind of illusion? Was I freaking out because of my injury? I closed my eyes and took a steadying inhale, then exhaled. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I believe this has been a very trying time for me and Alandria. I think you should go.”

He stood there, at the foot of my hospital bed, watching me. He shook his head. “She’s here, you know. Alandria. So is your mom. I thought today would be a good day for you to be with her, and I hoped seeing her would help with the healing. Now, I’m not sure.”

No. My daughter. I wanted to be with her. He could use her as a pawn against me. What was wrong with him? Why would he even think that was appropriate? Still, I could also understand where he was coming from. I was acting erratic. I had been in a serious incident with a traumatic injury. I couldn’t stand this. I felt like I was being ripped in two.

“You’re right,” I said. “I owe you an apology, Jackson. You deserve time with your daughter. You should have a better explanation as well. But I’m exhausted and in pain. I want to be in my space, not in this hospital. Not hooked up to these machines. I need to sleep and heal.”

He stepped to me, coming to the side of the bed where he sat beside me, careful of jostling my leg. “I know you do, sunshine. This conversation isn’t going the way I thought it would. I’m sick to death with worry and fear. I hate myself right now. What happened to us?” He pushed a lock of my hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. The tenderness of his act belied the anger bubbling under the surface. I’d made him that way.

“I don’t have the energy, Jackson.” Nor did I have the time. Had he really not seen me that night? Or understood the ramifications of what he’d done? I felt like I was in one of those anxiety-ridden dreams where everywhere I turned, another wall appeared, and I couldn’t get out of the box. “This isn’t the conversation I wanted either. I don’t know how I envisioned it or what we’d say or how we’d act.” I sighed, holding back the tears I told myself I’d never waste on him again.

“Then talk to me, Waverly. Make me understand all of this because I am so lost. I just set eyes on my baby girl, and I don’t... I’m amazed and afraid. I’m in love. Why wasn’t I good enough to be with you this whole time? You could have told me. I wouldn’t have been mad. You didn’t have to be by yourself. You never have to be alone.”

But I did. He’d seen to that. As much as my heart ached for him and what we once had, he’d made his choice the night I came to Flame. I dropped my gaze to my hands, unable to look at him for fear I would blubber out everything, when I didn’t need to say a word. “Just take care of her for me, okay? I am sorry. You deserved more. I hope you find someone better than me.”

He scoffed, though offended by my words. “All I ever wanted was you, Waverly. I told you that. From the moment I met you, it was like kismet or whatever. Boom—still don’t understand the term. I comprehend the feeling though. I don’t know what you’ve got going on in your beautiful head, but I hope it unscrambles soon so we can be a family.”

I said nothing. There was nothing left to say. He might have sweet platitudes for me now, but maybe it had more to do with his daughter than it did me. Perhaps he was so worried I’d never allow him to be her dad. He’d do just about anything to get into my good graces. “I’m hurting, Jackson. I think it’s time for you to leave so I can rest.” I didn’t know if he saw the morphine button or not, but I pushed it, taking the chickenshit way out of our situation.

“I understand,” he replied, standing. “This isn’t over, sunshine. I’ll be back.”

That was what I’d worried about. I should have never called my mom when I went into labor. All of this could have been avoided if I just left well enough alone and used one of my friends from the university as my point of contact. As the snowy blanket of relaxation and relief floated over me, pulling me under into a dreamless sleep, I wondered what would happen next, and if I’d ever survive the next eighteen years of being just some dumb girl who’d spread her legs for a hot guy with a cool car.

The answer was staring me right in the face.

No. I wouldn’t.

The next time I woke, I felt better. My head didn’t hurt as much. My leg didn’t feel like the muscle and bone were trying to separate from each, either. I should have pushed the button when Dr. Jay said to. Another difference was the fact I didn’t have any IVs or machines in my room. I was just there.

Sleeping away my life.

I glanced over at the couch and spotted my mom reading one of her romance books. I mentally snorted. She loved those things as much as she loved my father. “Hi.” My voice still croaked from disuse, and I hated the fragile quality of it.

“Hey, yourself.” She turned the page in her book, then placed the bookmark where she’d been. “You awake now?”

Well, obviously. “How long did I sleep for this time?”

My mom glanced at her watch. “It’s seven at night.”

I ran my hand over my face, grateful I didn’t have wires and tubes everywhere, and grumbled. “I didn’t think I’d sleep that long.” My stomach growled in neglect, and I groaned. “What I wouldn’t give for some food.”

“You’re in luck.” My mom picked up a hot/cold bag I hadn’t seen beside her and brought it over to the bed. “Jackson made this at Flame when we had lunch together, said it was full of protein and vegetables. He said Dr. Jay gave him a list of food you’d need to help your leg heal and fuel your brain.”

My stomach soured. “Why is he doing all this?”

“The better question is,” my mother said, “why wouldn’t he? Waverly, you and I need to have a long overdue conversation. You gave me bits and pieces of what you think happened to you, but the Jackson I’ve been talking to isn’t the Jackson you remember from that night.”

She pulled out the to-go box and opened it. The smell of salmon, steamed vegetables, and rice permeated the small area, and my stomach gave another rumble of hunger. My mouth watered as I stared at the food. “He’s doing it for Alandria.” I grabbed the fork beside the box and dug in, not caring for a moment who made the food other than I was famished. “That’s all.”

“I’d be more inclined to believe you if I hadn’t seen his reaction whenwehad to tell him he had a daughter, and she was stuck in the hospital’s daycare because of the lockdown.” She pulled up a chair beside me as I ate, slow, little bites so not to overwhelm my stomach. “He was positively green, Waverly. Sicker than a dog. The poor boy even passed out on your father.”

Her words tugged at me. But I stayed firm in my assessment of the situation. “He was caught off guard. He’s in a relationship with someone else, Ma.”

“You sure about that?” She arched a brow, giving me one of her stern mom looks. “Waverly, that boy hasn’t gone home since the minute he was handed Alandria. He’s been at your place.”

Well, our—or well, his—conversation with me made sense now. He’d seen the tiny apartment I’d been able to afford on my own. “Doesn’t mean anything. How do you tell your girlfriend you knocked up some random girl and didn’t know?”

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