Page 122 of Before You
“Is it JJ?” Bria asks, her face growing pale, and I sink my teeth into my lower lip, shaking my head. “Where’s Asher?”
I try swallowing the lump in my throat as my heart cracks. “He’s go—” My throat seizes, refusing to let the words be spoken a third time.
“You’re wrong,” she says, stepping back. “He’s here. Ash has to be here,” Bria says, darting around me faster than I or anyone else can stop her, toward patient rooms. I follow after her, watching helplessly as she steps into the doorway of each room, searching for him, but she turns in a circle, her shoulders shaking. I can feel the anguish rolling off her in waves, and I wrap my arms around her as Bria buries her head in my neck. “Where is he? He’s supposed to be here,” she sobs, and I hold her tight as she breaks faster than I can pick up the pieces to glue them back together.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, seeing over her shoulder JJ lying in his hospital bed. All of this is beyond overwhelming, but I’m not leaving him. It would completely destroy me when so much has already been ruined.
“I needed more time,” she sobs, and this time, the pieces of our broken hearts scatter everywhere.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
JJ
My mouth is really dry.I need water.My eyes are super heavy. Why are they so hard to open right now?Voices. Beeping.
All of it comes crashing back. The call with Bailey, leaving with Asher, the car hitting us, Asher—no. It’s not real. It can’t be.
I force my eyes open, my entire body sore and protesting against any movement.Fuck, my head hurts.The first thing I see in the dimmed lighting is Marley standing in the corner, talking with her parents. I turn my head to see my parents asleep in the chairs next to my bed. Dad’s moved the chair to sit as close to Mom’s as possible as she rests her head next to my hand on the mattress.
Mom shifts, lifting her head after wiping her eyes. “JJ?”
“Water,” I croak out and she nods, understanding. Dad stirs when she offers me a water bottle from her bag, and the IV in the back of my hand pulls as I reach for it. “Thanks.”
And by the way her eyes scan over me, I know she knows.
Marley moves closer, and when her lower lip trembles as she tries to smile at me, I wonder if she’s finally hit her breaking point with me. “Asher?” I ask, but his name is a hoarse whisper, and my throat feels raw.He could have made it, right?
She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Marley shakes her head, tears welling in her beautiful eyes, anda wave of anguish crashes over me, dragging me down. This is a nightmare I’m not going to wake up from. It’s my fault too because he should never have been in the car with me.
“No.”
My hand is gripped tightly by my mom’s, her cheeks damp. “I’m so sorry, JJ. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, and . . .” she trails off, dipping her head.
“He went through the windshield,” I say, finishing her sentence. Marley sits on the edge of the bed, the bed dipping underneath her weight as she rests her hand on top of the blanket. “It’s my fault. If he hadn’t gone with me, he’d still be here.”
“It’s not your fault. Asher went with you because he loves you,” Marley says, her voice soft.
“Loved,”I correct, my voice cracking at the same time my soul does. “I didn’t take anything. He was driving me to a meeting.” I force the words out of my mouth, and she crumples like a wilted flower.
“I know, baby. I know you didn’t,” she says, before looking away. “But the doctors had to sedate you, and they gave you painkillers when you arrived to help your body cope with the stress of the accident.”
“I-I relapsed?” I wish I didn’t hear Dad’s sharp inhale as I confirm what Marley told them.
“They’re called slips,” Marley’s mom adds from the corner, catching me by surprise because I’d forgotten her parents were here. Her light eyes meet mine, and it’s the look of understanding on her face making me wish I’d confided in her. “You didn’t relapse because you didn’t knowingly seek out drugs.”
“I’m sorry,” Marley says, and my brain struggles to grasp the difference right now, my head throbbing. I lift my hand to rub my temple, finding a large bandage covering my forehead.
“Wha—” I ask, and Dad clears his throat, the lines of his face etched with sorrow.
“You needed stitches for a cut on your forehead,” he explains, and I nod, struggling to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, JJ. I’m sorry I didn’t see what you tried to tell me.”
“Bailey—”I struggle to breathe in and the monitor spikes, catching everyone’s attention. “He called just before . . .” I shake my head, trying to collect my thoughts without panicking. “Bailey called to say goodbye. He sai—”
“It can wait until later,” Dad interrupts, his eyes glimmering. “Whatever he said, it can wait. You’re important too.”
“I’m so sorry, JJ. When you’re ready to tell us everything, we’re here to listen,” Mom adds, and I’m ashamed I didn’t listen to Asher sooner. He was right all along.
“I’m an addict,” I admit, and Mom’s grip on my hand tightens as she squeezes.
