Page 2 of Sweet Caroline
I try to move. Everything hurts. Face feels like it fought a cheese grater and lost. Arm weirdly heavy. I lift my head maybe an inch.
My arm’s… in a cast?
Shit.
Pale blue blanket. White sheets.
Hands. A gentle voice. “Hey there.”
“What happened?”
Fat, clumsy lips. Throat so dry it might crack, like I swallowed rocks. Mouth tastes like rocks, anyway. Rocks and blood and puke.
Buzzing inside my skull. Can’t hear what she says. Her name? Then something, something, Harborview Medical Center.
I blink hard. Try to focus. The throbbing buzz lets up a bit.
“You had quite a night. Police picked you up on I-90.”
The interstate? Jesus. How the fuck did I even get there on foot?
“You’re lucky to be alive.”
Fuck. This is bad.
“My phone?” I force a swallow.
A straw at my swollen lips. A sip of water. Better. Barely.
“You need to call someone?”
I nod. Regret stabs my brain.
The scraping of a drawer. My phone on my chest.
I manage to pry open an eyelid. Screen cracked. Battery at nine percent. Nearly fumble it. Nausea as I find my brother’s name. Nausea while I wait for him to pick up.
Don’t throw up.
“Miles?” Jude’s groggy voice. “Miles, it’s five in the fucking morning.”
He’s already disappointed in me.
Fair.
“It is?”Shit.I squint at the clock. Can’t make out the numbers. “Sorry. I’m… I’m at the hospital.”
“Fuck. What happened this time?” He sounds exhausted. Worried.
This is all my fault.
“You need me to drive out there?”
Another wave of nausea churns. My head pounds. Breathe.
Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.
“Miles, you still there?” He sounds more awake now. Probably pissed. “Miles!”
