Page 3 of Back to You
“Just let me die,” I sobbed. “I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t do this, don’t you get it? Why can’t you just leave me alone? I don’t want to be here anymore! I can’t…” I hiccuped, feeling sick to my stomach and woozy. “Please.”
Dane’s throat worked. He shook his head, his blond hair snapping back and forth. “No. I can’t. I refuse to lose you. I love you too damn much. You need stitches. I’m calling for an ambulance.”
“No!” Panic seared through me like a fiery brand. I grabbed his hand before he could pull his phone from his pocket. “Please, no, don’t! I’ll be locked away. I’m notcrazy.Don’t call them, Dane. Please… Just— Just let me end the pain. Don’t call them. They’ll put me in a padded cell and watch my every move. I’m notcrazy, I’m tired and I want to die.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t want that,” he whispered, putting pressure on the wound. “You can’t leave me. You’re my best friend, Hols, my partner-in-crime. The peanut butter to my jelly. Don’t do this. Let me help you. I’ll help you, just tell me how.”
“I don’tknowhow,” I shouted, but instead of the anger I expected, Dane turned gentle. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. It was so tender that it might as well have been a bullet hole, it hurt so badly. I began to cry harder, clinging to his shirt. He crushed me to his chest.
“Let me in,” he uttered. “Please don’t push me away, Hollister. Let me help you. I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? Please don’t go away. I can’t bear the thought of burying you, too. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m scared and I’m sad and my heart hurts, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to do…”
“I know, Hols.” His fingers stroked through my hair. “Come home with me. The last thing you need is to be alone right now. You need us and I’m gonna be right there, through all the bad stuff, okay? I’m here for you. Don’t leave me.”
I cried until my eyes ran dry and my mouth was cottony. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and let it all hang out. Dane didn’t let me go, not until I was reduced to sniffles. He pulled back and looked me in the eye, then slowly peeled the blood-stained towel back. He grimaced. “It looks pretty deep, but I think the bleeding has stopped. It does need stitches though.”
“Can’t your mom sew it up? She’s a nurse. I can’t… I don’t need the whole town to know that I’m crazy,” I whispered finally, dropping my head against his shoulder. I was too weak to hold it up any longer.
“You aren’t crazy,” Dane promised me. “You’re grieving. Come on, let’s wrap it up for now and I’ll drive you home.” With a grunt, he hauled himself out of the tub and started digging around under the sink until he found a roll of Ace bandage.
After wrapping it tightly around the towel to keep it in place, he helped me to my feet. My knees were wobbly and my head throbbed, but I teetered after him to my bedroom. He started tossing clean clothes into an overnight bag, then handed me my phone. “Come on.”
I collapsed into the front seat of his hand-me-down Buick and pulled my knees to my chest. My arm was throbbing like a bitch now, in time with the beat of my heart, and all I wanted was to take a couple of painkillers and sleep it off. My chest felt like a gaping exit wound, and I wasn’t sure that it would ever close.
Dane helped me up the porch steps of his family’s little ranch home and called for his mom. Mrs. Fisher took one look at me and my blood-soaked shirt, and she deflated. Her forehead creasing, she reached for me with a sad smile.
“Oh, honey.” I hated the pity in her voice, and the look she and Dane exchanged, but I was too tired to argue. “Come here and let Mama Fisher take a look. You poor child.”
She drew me into her arms and held on tight, embracing me in a hug that was so damn reminiscent of Mom’s warmth that I lost it all over again. “Shh,” she whispered. “We’re gonna take care of you, honey, don’t you worry about that. You’re family now.”
Then why did it hurt so badly?
