Page 94 of Puck You
I reached out for him, but he only took another hasty step away.
“Don’t touch me.Just leave me the fuck alone.”
A gasp sounded from behind me.I didn’t have the energy to chase after him as he turned to leave; all the fight in me was gone.I’m not going to leave you, Grace.His promise was etched into my memory.I would never do that.I guessed it had all been a lie.
“What the hell is going on?”Sam stepped into view, my roommates at her side.They all shared the same horrified expressions.
“I don’t know, but I need to get going.”
My voice hitched as another wave of tears threatened to break free.I had a feeling that if they did, I’d need another twenty minutes in the bathroom to collect myself.That was time I didn’t have, not when my father was on his way to the hospital and my sister needed me.
“Take all the time you need,” Sam said, reaching out to squeeze my hand.“When you’re ready, we’ll get you out of here.”
I didn’t need any time.All I wanted was to leave and never look back.
Chapter 22
Grace
It was late when we arrived at the hospital.Sam’s father was idling in the parking lot, waiting to take her home.She pulled me into a hug, whispered that everything would be okay, and gave me the keys to her car.I watched her father’s Ford pull out onto the main road and disappear into the darkness.St.Jude’s stood before me like a haunted image from my dreams, the gray building cast in red light from the bold emergency sign.I couldn’t move.The last time I’d stepped inside this hospital, I’d come against both of my parents’ wishes, desperate to catch a glimpse of the woman who’d raised me.
Be brave,Grace.Do it for your sister.
There was a lone security guard waiting inside the front doors.He looked me over with a bored expression as I walked on shaky legs to the front desk.A middle-aged woman asked for my name without looking up from her computer.She continued to type away as I rattled off my name and reason for visiting.
“Room 224.Elevators are down the hall on the left,” she said, handing me a sticker with my name printed across the top.I pressed it to my chest without checking to see if it was right side up.
The hospital was eerily quiet, save for the swish of scrubs from the lone nurse traversing the hallway.The sound of my breathing felt impossibly loud as I boarded the elevator for the second floor.They’d already moved my father from the emergency department into the critical care unit.
Room 224 was at the very end of the hallway, a cornerunit cast in dim fluorescent light, the blinds drawn over a large window along the back wall.My dad was awake, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a half-hearted smile as I entered the room.I bit back a sob at the sight of him lying in bed.There was an IV bag pumping fluids into him and a pulse oximeter attached to the tip of his finger.A chorus of different beeps from the various machines permeated the air.In the armchair beside the bed, Gabby lay curled around her knees, sleeping.The sight of them together was all it took for the sense of betrayal hanging over my head to vanish.My shoulders relaxed.With light steps, I rounded the corner of his bed and reached out to grab the hand he’d extended for me.
“Don’t wake her up,” he said in a whisper, nodding to Gabs.“She was crying up until the moment she fell asleep, even though the doctor says I’m doing well.”
I didn’t know what to say.After weeks of ignoring his calls, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible.
“Is this all my fault?”I asked, unable to keep my darkest thoughts inside.
He looked at me incredulously.“How could this be your fault?”
“I’ve been ignoring your calls for weeks.That wasn’t fair to you.You get so stressed when—”
“You’re not to blame for this, Grace.It’s ridiculous for you to even think that.”
“Then what happened?”
“It was a minor heart attack.I’m okay, I promise.”
“What caused it?”
He let out a long sigh.“They mentioned a few things about my diet and my drinking habits, but the most important thing isthat I’m doing fine.I’m on meds to break up any clots, and if my vitals remain stable, I can probably leave in a day or two.”
Relief coursed through me, but it didn’t lessen the feelings of guilt.In some cases, heart attacks could be brought on by chronic stress.It wasn’t that ridiculous to think that I was partly to blame for his anxiety.
“This is not your fault,” he said as if he could hear the stream of thoughts inside my head.“Sometimes things just happen.”
“I’m so sorry for ignoring you.I shouldn’t have—”
“None of that matters now,” he assured me.“I’m just glad you’re here.”
