Page 4

Chapter Three

" A very." Brogan’s voice floats toward me, muffled and distant. "Avery, honey. Wake up."

The light of the hospital room stings my eyes, and I blink rapidly, finding Brogan standing over me, her smile lopsided with worry.

Panic flares hot and fast as I throw the scratchy blanket off me and shoot upright. "What happened?"

"It’s okay, babe," she says quickly, her voice smoothing over my panic. "The ventilator’s out. They’ve been tapering the sedative and he’s starting to wake up."

I don’t wait for her to say anything more. Stumbling off the loveseat, my heart hammering in my chest, I rush to Callan’s bedside. He lies motionless, face still battered and pale, but he looks lighter somehow.

"How long was I out?" I ask, not tearing my gaze from him.

"Since I got here. Three hours." Brogan gives a soft shrug. "You needed it, Ave. I just didn’t want you to be pissed if he woke up and you were sleeping."

"Thank you," I whisper. "I’m glad you woke me."

I wrap my hand around Callan’s, squeezing gently. "I’m here, Callan. I’m not going anywhere."

Suddenly, his eyelids twitch, fluttering like wings. Then they fall closed again.

"The doctors said it might take a while," Brogan says, her voice steady and reassuring.

I nod, heart in my throat. I can wait. I’ll wait forever if I have to. He’s alive and that’s all that matters.

I sit down in the chair beside him, and I watch. I count every flutter of his lashes, every twitch of his fingers.

Brogan leaves for cheer practice after squeezing my shoulder and promising to come back. I barely even register the door closing behind her.

Hours drag by, heavy and slow. Dinner carts rattle down the hall. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. Nothing matters except him.

"Please come back to us, Callan," I whisper.

Just then, he moves. Part of me wonders if he heard me, if he knows I’m here and woke up to see my face.

His lashes lift and this time, his eyes stay open.

My heart jumps. "Hey." I lean over him, smiling so hard my face aches. "How was your nap?"

I can’t seem to find any other words as I stare into his green eyes. He’s awake, he’s alive, and he’s mine.

Callan groans, muscles straining as he tries to push himself up. I try to stop him, but before I can, his arm gives out and he slumps back with a hiss of pain.

"Easy," I whisper, barely grazing his shoulder with my fingertips, terrified I’ll hurt him more.

He settles, his stare pinning me to the spot. His brow furrows. "Where am I?" The words are rough, dragging like gravel out of his throat. He tries to clear it and I reach for the water on the table, fresh from when dinner trays came around.

Hesitantly, he sits forward, taking a small sip, but it’s clear he is still confused. "Where am I, Avery?"

I brush my fingers across his cheek, pretending my heart isn’t splitting seeing him this way.

"You’re in the hospital. You...there was an accident."

Confusion clouds his features. He tries to sit up again, craning his neck to scan the room before settling back against the pillows. It’s clear he's agitated as he tries to look anywhere but at me.

"Where’s Brogan?" he croaks.

"She had to go to practice, but she’ll be back," I say, pointing my thumb toward the door.

His frown deepens. "Cheer practice?"

I nod, feeling the tension coil tighter in the room.

"That doesn’t make sense. Her season hasn’t started."

His words are more of a murmur to himself, not said to anyone in particular.

"Callan, it’s the middle of November. Of course the season has started."

He stares at me in shock, shaking his head slowly. His eyes blink heavily and for a brief moment I wonder if they might stay closed for a while, letting him drift back off to sleep and recover a little bit more, maybe get his bearings.

"Avery, I’m not dumb. This is still the beginning of my season. We haven’t even played our first game yet."

I try to think of how to tell him what all has happened in the past few months, but my words fail me. He must see something on my face because his twists in a scowl.

Suddenly, he yanks at the IV in his arm.

"Callan, stop. Please, don’t do that." I reach for his hand, trying to make sure he doesn’t rip it from his arm completely.

He slaps my touch away like it burns. "Don’t touch me."

The venom in his words hurts more than I could have imagined and I have to fight with myself not to snap at him. We're past that; we have figured our shit out. Recoiling from him, I blink fast, trying with all of my might to keep the tears away.

"It’s okay," I say quickly, trying to mask the sting. "You’re confused. You’ve been through a lot, baby."

His eyes darken as he grabs my wrist and twists. "Don’t call me that. Why are you even here, Avery?"

It feels like he’s ripped my heart out and thrown it against the wall.

Don’t take it personally, Avery. He’s confused and hurting. He doesn’t mean it.

I force a breath and quietly reach for the call button on the bed remote, pressing it without him noticing and keeping eye contact the entire time. He doesn’t look away, just breathes heavily with so much hate in his gaze my stomach twists.

"You’ve been heavily sedated," I tell him. "It’s normal to feel disoriented. But you’re safe now."

He growls, his grip turning punishing, and the bandages on my arm dig into the burns there. They are no doubt bleeding, but I latch onto the pain and use it to keep pushing forward.

"You need to tell me what the fuck is going on, Avery. Right now. Why am I here? Why are you here?"

My throat dries up. The doctors said not to overwhelm him. But looking at him now—desperate and furious—the truth is the only thing left.

"You were in a car accident," I say softly. "You were coming to help me."

"No." He shakes his head violently, the heart monitor spiking from agitation. "No, that’s bullshit. Why the hell would I be coming to you?" His eyes narrow. "I can’t fucking stand you, Avery."

The words slice me open. Tears blur my vision and before I can stop them, they fall silent and steady down my cheeks.

I nod numbly before yanking my wrist free. A nurse rushes in, alarmed. She barks something down the hall and ushers me out, but I move on autopilot, the world around me spinning so fast I don’t know which way is up.

My actions got him hurt. I’m the reason he is here. He hates me. He doesn’t remember.

That’s the only thing going through my head as I move down the hall and out the doors.

My body doesn’t feel like my own when I get outside.

I just keep walking until I can’t anymore.

The lack of food and sleep hits me all at once.

Collapsing against a tree, I pull out my phone and do the only thing I can think of.