Page 41 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

When the elevator opened, we stepped out to see Thomas standing at the fourth-floor nurses’ station.

“Hey!” I said.

He flipped around and came at me with open arms. “Have you heard anything?”

“Trent is awake.”

“And Camille?” Thomas asked.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and shrugged. “She’s not.”

I noticed Thomas’s shoulders sag.

“Trenton’s arm is broken in two places,” I said. “Carried her over a mile to the closest house.”

Thomas shook his head, the deep wrinkle between his brow softening. “That’s what the nurses said. Holy hell. He’s been here one night and is already a legend.”

“It’ssogreat that you came, and that you got here so quickly.” Abby shrugged with an innocent smile on her face, but I knew her. Something was up.

Thomas hugged Dad and then nodded, his head swirling with thoughts. He glanced at all of us. “Can we go see them?”

“Yeah,” Dad said. “They put her at the end of the hall ... four-fourteen.”

Thomas was in a hurry to get to the room, and Abby shot me a glance just before he pushed through the door.

Once he saw Camille, he froze, covering his mouth. His hand left his lips and ran over the top of his short dirty-blond hair. “You ... you okay, little brother?” he whispered, his eyes never leaving Camille.

“I’ll live,” Trenton said. He sounded exhausted.

Abby closed the door behind the nurses as they left, and we watched Thomas approach Camille’s bed.

He touched her fingers tenderly. Trenton watched, too, confusion darkening his face.

“What the fuck are you doing, Tommy?” Trenton asked, suddenly alert.

“I should have come sooner,” he said, his face crumpling. “I’m sorry, Trent.”

Trenton wrinkled his nose. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“I ... didn’t fly in. I’ve been sitting in my car waiting just long enough to make you believe that I was.”

“What?” I asked.

Thomas loosened his tie.

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked.

Thomas’s lips pressed together. “I don’t … I don’t fucking know. I sat out there … feeling stupid, feeling worried sick, drowning in guilt. It was fucking agony, and I’m so tired of ... I'm sorry,” Thomas said again, this time to Camille.

“Tommy,” I said, taking a step. “You all right, man?”

Thomas turned to face us, hesitating when he looked to Dad. “I’ve been in town. I came because of the fire, but then I stayed ...”

“Because of the fire,” Abby said, unconvinced.

She lifted her chin. She studied Thomas the way she did cards in her hand. Her expression smoothed, as if she were relieved by a freeing truth. She sighed. “Just tell them.”

“Tommy,” Dad said quickly. “Maybe you should wait until everything settles down.”