Page 91 of Campus Crush
He rushed to my side, picking me up and holding me as I fell apart. His strong arms wrapped around me, one hand cradling the back of my head as I buried my face in his chest. The dam broke, and I sobbed against him, my body shaking with the force of my grief.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair, his voice a lifeline in the storm of my emotions. “I’m here, Abby. I’ve got you.”
And for just a moment, in the circle of his arms, I let myself believe that maybe I wouldn’t drown in this new wave of loss threatening to pull me under.
FORTY-FOUR
Sam showed up a little after I did and offered to go pick up Mason and bring him to the hospital.
We stayed there until visiting hours were over. The doctors came and went, nurses checked vitals, and we sat in uncomfortable chairs watching Abby’s grandmother sleep, her breathing shallow and labored.
The whole time, Abby had a hollow look on her face like she was stuck in a nightmare she couldn’t get out of. Her normally bright eyes were dull and distant, her shoulders hunched forward as if carrying a physical weight. She kept rubbing her grandmother’s hand, occasionally whispering something I couldn’t hear. I didn’t know what to say, but I hoped my presence provided some comfort, so she knew she wasn’t alone.
“I need to go home with Mason,” she said when the nurse finally came to tell us visiting hours were ending. Her grandma had woken up briefly toward the end, but hadn’t had much strength to talk before she fell asleep again from the painkillers they had her on.
“I’ll drive you guys,” I told her. I had no intention ofleaving her side. Even if it meant I had to get up extra early for practice tomorrow. The thought of her facing this alone made my chest ache. Not to mention, I didn’t think she was any state to drive right now.
I was considering calling Coach and telling him I couldn’t make practice due to a family emergency. I didn’t like the thought of Abby being at Gram’s or at the hospital to deal with everything by herself. I knew she wouldn’t lean on Mason because she was already worried about him, but she deserved to have someone there so she wasn’t carrying all the weight of this situation on her shoulders.
It was bad form for the captain to be MIA.
But I’d finally found something—someone—that was more important to me than hockey.
And I wouldn’t let her face this alone.
I drove Abby and Mason back to Gram’s house, the headlights cutting through the darkness as we navigated the quiet country road. Mason had been in a daze since we’d left the hospital. He was beating himself up for not realizing the severity of the situation, even though I’d heard Abby tell him multiple times that it wasn’t his fault their Gram was in this condition.
He’d shoved his earbuds in once we got in the car, his face turned toward the window. As soon as we walked into the house, he went straight to his room and closed the door with a quiet click that somehow seemed more concerning than if he’d slammed it.
I was worried about him, but I was most worried about Abby.
“Why don’t you head upstairs and I’ll find us something to eat?” I suggested, squeezing her hand gently.
She nodded but didn’t speak as she walked woodenlyup the stairs, her hand gripping the banister like she needed the support to keep from collapsing.
After searching the fridge and cupboards, I found some bottles of water, bananas, and crackers. It wasn’t a gourmet meal, but I didn’t think Abby or Mason had much of an appetite. Still, they needed to eat something, even if just to keep their strength up for the difficult days ahead.
I stopped at Mason’s room first—which was easy enough to find because it had a football and some band stickers on the door. I knocked softly.
“Mason? I brought you some water and food.”
When he didn’t respond, I knocked harder, until finally he opened the door, one of his ear buds in his hand.
“I thought you might want some snacks.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled before taking them and closing the door again.
When I got to Abby’s room, I found her standing in the center, arms wrapped around herself. The space was dimly lit by a small bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the walls. It wasn’t as decorated as I expected, which I supposed made sense—this hadn’t been her childhood bedroom. She’d told me she lived in a different house until her mom died.
As I walked closer, I realized she was shaking. It was probably the shock and drop of adrenaline from the day.
I’d never lost a loved one, and now Abby was about to lose the third parent figure she’d had. I felt helpless to ease her pain. All I could do was be here and yet that didn’t feel like enough.
I set down the water and snacks on her desk and then wrapped my arms around her. Her body was cold despite the warmth of the room, and she felt fragile in a way I’dnever seen her before. She hugged me back and pressed her cheek against my chest.
“What do you need?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I rubbed her back.
“You,” she whispered, her voice breaking on that single word. She looked up at me, her brown eyes begging me. “I need you to make me forget—even if just for a little while.”
