Page 102 of Lovesick
Nobody dares to match her bid. Everyone looks at me to declare the final statement, but the words never leave the safety of my mouth.
My senses roll around haphazardly like billiard balls, and I experience a sudden onslaught of lightheadedness. Fractals glimmer in my panoramic vision as sounds garble beyond my hearing. There’s an abrupt, stabbing pain in my heart—one that I’ve only felt once before, and one that I’d hoped to never feel again—before the whole world goes dark.
Gravity pulls me down to the ground as if my body is made of sandbags, and the last thing on my mind is Crew.
I love you.
28
DEAD MAN WALKING
CREW
Everything happened so fast—I was dropkicked into action.
It was the first time I didn’t catch Merit before she fell. I was supposed to protect her, and I failed. I don’t remember what happened after the paramedics arrived; all I remember is hyperventilating the entire time. Thankfully, Harlan shoved me into his car so we could tail after the ambulance.
I’ve never felt a preternatural fear like this before. It smothers my chest, bottlenecking my circulation. How long was Merit feeling faint? Was I so caught up in my own shit that I couldn’t recognize the warning signs? I need her to make it back to me. I don’t want to live without her. Ican’tlive without her.
When Harlan’s Volkswagen skids into the hospital parking lot, the ominous moon is lounging on an ottoman made of stars, winking at me from a sable sky. I get out of the passenger seat underneath a jaundiced streetlight, my nerves gnarling between my ribs like flowering vines as the cold breeze buffets my arms.
Sprinting into the entrance, I dodge incoming stretchers of patients and hospital personnel who flit around like anxious flies. It’s absolute bedlam in here, the beeping of pagers and industrial machinery trumpeting into the not-so-silent air, intercut with voices at differing decibel levels. Somewhere, someone yowls in agony, their grief steeped into the water-damaged drywalls of an undercover graveyard. The overwhelming stench of ammonia seeps into my nostrils.
Tears clump in the corners of my eyes, distorting my vision as if I’m looking through a funhouse mirror. “Where is she? Where the hell is my girlfriend?!” I scream, causing a ruckus in the reception area. Multiple heads turn toward me—some in shock, others in sympathy.
A nurse in blue scrubs braces a hand against my chest, trying to pacify me, but all I do is windmill in her flimsy hold. My throat is raw, every inch of my body is on fire, and the baseline acid in my gut is purling. I feel sick. I had to watch the paramedics hook Merit up to all different kinds of tube-like devices, wheel her out on a stretcher, and still wasn’t told jack shit about what was happening to her. Her flameless eyes were devoid of life, that strong, resilient girl I’ve grown to know extirpated on a whim.
“I need to see her.Please.Please let me see her,” I cry, furling my fingers in polyester, the wingbeat of my heart as unsteady as my gelatinous legs. If I wasn’t clinging onto this poor woman for dear life, I’d probably fall to my knees.
Is Merit in pain? Is she okay? I can’t stand the thought of her suffering. Fate has taken a lot of good things away from me, but I won’t let it take her. She’s a part of me—the best part. Losing her will never be an option.
“Calm down, sir. Who’s your girlfriend? What’s her name?” the nurse asks, her tone coarsened with an air of detached professionalism.
I slow my breathing so that my words are intelligible. “Merit…Lawson.”
Nurse Rayna—by way of her nametag—nods in understanding. “Are you?—”
“Crew?”
A deep, bone-weary voice addresses me, and Coach Lawson’s sunken eyes find me with the precision of a sharpshooter, fully intent on burning through my password-encrypted layers to get to the heart of my soul. Mrs. Lawson is with him.
I’ve never been more relieved to see him in my entire life. Even after everything we’ve been through, I run to him without a second thought, bulling my way into his arms. He doesn’t hug me back right away—more so out of surprise than vitriol.
Tears fleck my cheeks in a shiny resin as sobs catch in the netting of my overworked diaphragm.
“Oh, son,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s okay. Breathe.”
I don’t think we’ve ever hugged before. Coach isn’t an overly affectionate person, but the fact that he’s not cussing me out right now speaks volumes. I betrayed his trust, I snuck around with his daughter—those aren’t things you just come back from.
I pull away from our embrace. “Is she…?”
“She hasn’t woken up yet. According to the doctor, she had a bigeminy episode which resulted in a decrease of blood flow to her brain. He surmises that the incident was brought on by an accumulation of stress.”
I shouldn’t have pressured her so much about talking to her dad before the auction.
Bile splashes the back of my throat as I force myself to swallow. “Will she be okay?” My voice is nearly inaudible, thickened with a caliber of pain that’s sticky and suffocating like an oil spill tainting offshore waters.
Mr. Lawson doesn’t answer me. He just gently nudges me toward a pair of chairs out of the way. “Let’s sit down. It’s not doing you any good by being on your feet.”
