Page 131 of When the Stars Rise
“How are you doin’, sweetheart?”
I look down at the IV in my arm and then it comes back to me in fragments. I’m in the hospital. Again.
I swallow and turn my head on the pillow, blinking a few times until Dean comes into focus. There are purple shadows under his eyes and a coffee stain on his gray T-shirt. His hair is all messy like he’s been running his fingers through it for hours and it’s all my fault that he’s in this state. “I’m sorry,” I croak.
My mouth is dry, and my throat is sore and scratchy.
Dean pours some water from the pitcher on my bedside table and guides the straw to my mouth. I sit up in my hospital bed, take the cup from his hand, and drink a few sips before handing it back to him.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” he says, setting the cup on the table and taking his seat again. “I knew that tour was too much for you. Shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. Now look at you. You’re suffering from exhaustion. You’re dehydrated. Your blood sugar… Jesus Christ.” He grabs the back of his head. “I should’ve known better.”
“It wasn’t the tour.”
“Darlin’, you collapsed on your bathroom floor. If I hadn’t gone to check on you, I don’t even want to think what could have happened.”
I don’t remember him finding me or the trip to the hospital. That part is all a blank. “Why did you check on me?”
“I was worried about you. You weren’t answering your phone. I was calling and texting all day yesterday. It’s not like you not to respond. So I finally went over to your house last night and keyed in the code when you didn’t answer your door. I was worried out of my mind,” he says gruffly.
I hate that I had him so worried about me. “I’m sor—”
He holds up his hand, cutting me off. “Don’t you dare. What did I just say? There’s no need to apologize.” He takes a sip of coffee from a cardboard cup and pulls a face then sets it on thetable again and leans back in his chair, eyes on me. From the worried expression on his face, I can only imagine how bad I must look.
“So what happened?” he asks.
“Nothing. I just…” My gaze drifts to the window where I’m greeted with blue skies and relentlessly cheerful sunshine. I turn away. “You know how I said I couldn’t remember the accident?” He nods. “My therapist told me that the brain has a way of blocking out…” I swallow. “… blocking out memories that are too painful. But it came to me in a dream… I remember how it happened now. I remember everything,” I whisper, my eyes welling with tears.
“Jesus.” Dean runs his hand down his face. “Maybe it was just a bad dream.”
I shake my head. My stomach is churning, and I feel so sick on the inside, that old familiar dread gnawing at my gut. But this time it feels different because after years of shoving it deep inside, I finally know the truth and I have no idea how I’m going to live with this.
“It wasn’t. I saw it all and I know… I know that’s how it really was. It came to me in fragments and then all at once and now I can’t unsee it.” I’m being purposefully vague because this isn’t something I want to discuss with Dean. There’s only one person who can fill in the blanks. The only person who knows the whole truth.
I think Dean senses that I’m not going to give him more because he nods, his expression thoughtful. “You’re like Shiloh. You got that from her Maw Maw. That sixth sense.”
“Maybe. I don’t want it though. I don’t want that gift or whatever you want to call it.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says softly. “Shy never wanted it either. She always said she saw too much of the bad stuff that was headed her way.”
“So you believed in it? You didn’t think she was crazy?” I don’t know why I’m asking that except she’d said that to me once. That when she was younger, people used to call her grandmother crazy, and they used to say the same about her.
He shakes his head. “I never thought Shy was crazy. Never thought it about Maw Maw either. It was only the close-minded people in our town who used to say shit like that. Like my old man. But his opinion wasn’t worth a damn. Nah, I always knew they were something special. Just like you,” he says with a smile.
I don’t feel all that special right now. I’m the girl responsible for killing her parents.
“What can I do for you?” Dean asks. “How can I help?”
I give him a sad smile and shake my head. “You can’t. It’s one of those things I have to deal with on my own.” Not entirely on my own. I need to do this with Noah. “There is one thing you can do for me though.”
“Name it.”
“I need to get out of this hospital. Can you take me home?”
He strokes his chin, looking dubious. “Just as soon as I make sure you’re okay to leave.” He stands up from his chair and strides to the door. “Let me go and find the doctor, see what she has to say about it. Zoe is here too. I’ll send her in—”
“Hey, Dean.”
He turns from the door. “Yeah?”
