Page 61 of Sugar Coated Lies
She laughs, her expression surprised in a good way, her softer postureeverything. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to act around you now. It’s not your fault,” she’s quick to add and focuses on the tray again. “If the circumstances were different, I would be more than happy to go out with you. I think about it. I think about you.” Her gaze slowly lifts to mine. “But…”
“I know. Believe me, I know.” I resist the impulse to brush fingers across her cheek, the urge to soothe her calling to me on a primal level. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out.
Jesse barrels through the store doors and halts the moment he spies us near the stairs. “Everleigh,” he says in an obvious panic. “Your nurse, Carol, called. She’s on the way to the hospital. Your grandfather won’t wake up.”
The world slows suddenly. Everleigh’s eyes fill with tears—not in the way they often do when she hides her joy or sadness. This is a full-on flood that accentuates the anguish in her gaze. Her chest rises and falls, and the tray crashes to the ground. She steps forward, her entire body shaking, but stops as she glances from the store to the parking lot. With her hands raised, she turns toward the store then swings toward her car, like she's doing karate. She’s stuck in a state of panic, and I feel it. I feel it coming off her in waves, and I feel it inside me, twisting like a tornado, ready to obliterate everything in its path. Worst of all, I feel helpless.
We can’t both lose it, though. One of us needs to be strong, and that needs to be me, because for the first time, Everleigh doesn’t seem to know how to react.
“Tell my dad we’re leaving,” I say to Jesse. He and Mom came for the event today. “Come with me.” I take Everleigh’s hand and drag her toward my car until she catches on and her feet race to keep up with my quick steps. I open the passenger door, get her inside, climb behind the wheel, and race out of the parking lot.
“Oh my God, Daire. Oh my God.” She rocks back and forth, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I can’t believe this.”
“Give me your phone, Everleigh.” I hold out my hand. I need to know which hospital, and we need more information, but she’s in no shape to act rationally.
She digs it from her pocket and passes it over with trembling hands. I manage to pull up Carol’s number while exiting the farm, headed toward Honeycomb.
“Everleigh,” Carol cries. “I’m with him. He’s alive, but he won’t wake up.”
“Carol. This is Daire. Take a deep breath and help me out here. I’m driving Everleigh to the hospital, but I need to know which one.
“Trinity. Trinity Hospital.”
“Thank you.” I put the phone on speaker and bring up Trinity hospital on my GPS as I say, “How is he?”
“I don’t know,” she cries harder. “Everything was fine. He took his nap like always and then he… I-I couldn’t get him to wake up. I’m so sorry.”
Everleigh covers her mouth, smothering a squeal as she breaks down beside me, her shoulders shaking with her cries.
“It’s not your fault, Carol,” I say. “We’ll meet you at the hospital. Call if anything changes before we get there.”
“Okay,” she murmurs, voices sounding in the background. Paramedics, I assume. I end the call before Everleigh can hear anything that might upset her more.
I take her hand in mine. “It’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that.” She stares blankly ahead, her other hand still covering her mouth. “I can’t lose him. I'm not ready. Once he’s gone, they’ll all be go—” A sob steals the word, and she crumbles forward in a full cry again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hate this. I wish I had a superpower to heal her grandpa. Better yet, the powerto bring her family back from the dead. She’s survived too much, but I fear this will steal everything from her. The light she has within, her hope, her existence. It's revolved around this man for so long and, like she said, he’s all she has left of her family.
It’s all I can do not to scream and beat fists on the steering wheel. I will hold it together for her. I will do whatever is necessary. She will never be alone again. Not when she has me. And she will always have me.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the hospital with no call from Carol. I take it as a good sign.
Everleigh went through waves of hysterical crying, then questioning how this can be happening, then praying that her grandpa doesn’t die, then crying again and mumbling random things like, “What will I do without him?”
She’s out of the car, running toward the emergency entrance the moment I park. I race after her.
We pass through the automatic doors together and head for the counter.
“Miles Calhoun,” Everleigh says to the lady, her speech impaired by her tears.
“He was just brought in by ambulance,” I say to help clarify in case the woman didn’t understand Everleigh.
The lady types on her keypad, looking up the information. “If you want to have a seat...”
“No,” Everleigh whimpers.
Fuck it.I slip my arm around her waist, desperate to give whatever support she’ll allow me.
