Page 51 of How You See Me (You and Me Duology #2)

Hayes

T hat night, I lay on the small couch in Ava’s hospital room while Mom and the girls stayed at the apartment. I wish I could say I slept, but there were too many things working against me.

Not only is the couch a noisy fabric masquerading as some sort of vinyl that sucks the life out of me through every sweaty pore, but it’s about three feet too short.

The noise of a working hospital and the revolving door of nurses coming in to check on Ava would have been enough to keep me up.

But there’s the problem of my roaming thoughts and persistent questions that won’t leave me alone.

And then there’s Josie.

I kept thinking about how she sounded on the phone, the way her tone melted when I mentioned Ava. I imagined her in some glowing Vegas lounge, lit up like the city itself, and hating how far away she felt. How much I wanted to be near her, despite knowing I needed to be here more.

When the morning light sneaks through the blinds, I give up and take a quick shower while Ava eats breakfast with her nurse. Then, we work on our art project until our family joins us with him in tow.

Apparently, my father will be around a lot more now. I don’t know how to feel about that yet, but it’s not like I have a say either.

Mom eyes are searching, almost pleading as she pulls me into a hug. She wants to talk.

I press a kiss to her temple and flee her arms before she can rope me with a conversation I don’t have the bandwidth for. Not here. Not in front of Ava. “I need coffee. Anyone else?”

With no takers, I tap Ava’s leg—a silent I’ll be back soon —and escape, feeling more like a coward than son or brother this morning. Guilt and exhaustion cover me, hiding how I’m unraveling at the seams underneath.

Bursting through the hospital doors, sunlight dances on my face.

I pause on the top step, let the spring air fill my lungs.

It smells of blooms and new beginnings, even though my life feels stalled.

The chirping birds and rustle of leaves overhead try to remind me to appreciate the little things, as Josie would.

Maybe I could if I had the energy for anything other than the basics.

The café down the block is blessedly quiet. The scent of roasted beans and fresh pastries awaken my empty stomach the moment I enter. It grumbles, begging me to feed it, but eating feels more like a chore, not a solution.

At the counter, I order my usual—black coffee—and tack on a banana nut muffin. Not because I’m hungry, but because my mother doesn’t need the added stress of another child in the hospital. One crisis at a time.

Maybe some caffeine will jog my memory—remind me where I left my sanity. Last time I felt it’s presence, I was in the van with—

“Josie.”

I freeze. Blink once. Twice.

She’s standing right here, peeled her out of my thoughts and placed right in front of me. Not on a phone screen. Not two thousand miles away. Here . In Virginia. The last time we talked, she was at a Vegas club, enjoying her vacation as she should be.

“Hi.” She smiles, understanding the improbability of this moment.

“What are you . . .” My voice trails off, tangled in disbelief.

“You’ve been my rock more times than I can count. I figured I could return the favor. You sounded off last night.”

“I’d have used a more colorful word.”

“I bet. I almost said something similar on the plane.” Her head tilts, playful and expectant. “Is there a reason you’re still over there? Or will I get a hug sometime today?”

“Oh, my God, yes.”

In three strides, I cross what feels like a canyon between us and take her in my arms. Her body melts into mine, pouring out her love and grace as she always does. Warmth spreads from my chest down to my fingertips. This—she—is what I’ve been missing. The place I find myself again.

I kiss her hair, breathing her in.

“Wait.” I pull back but stay connected to her, my fingers linking with hers. “You flew? Holy shit, Josie . . .”

“I know.” She lets out a weary giggle. “I’d do anything for you, Hayes. Absolutely, anything.”

“I can’t believe it.” I hug her again, trying to believe what my arms are telling me. “How was it?”

“Terrifying.” She heaves a long sigh into my shirt. “But you’re more than worth it.”

I lean back enough to see her face—red cheeks, eyes like the ocean, skin I’ve memorized. She’s even more beautiful than in the photos on my phone and the memories I clung to though the restless night.

“What about your show?”

“I’ve got time before my commitments.” She lifts a hand to my cheek, brushing a thumb along the edge of my unshaven jaw. “Today and tonight are yours. Whatever you need.”

I don’t bother trying to list all the ways I need her. I kiss her instead, waiting for the noise in my head and around us to fade away. People are probably staring, but I don’t care. Let them witness true love.

“You’re all I need,” I whisper, then reluctantly release her. “Can I get you anything? ”

She gives me a timid smile. “No, thanks. I’m too jittery to eat.”

“Flight nerves?”

“That and I drove here from the airport instead of hiring someone—figured I should do everything on this spontaneous mission like a normal adult.” She fidgets with the hem of my shirt. “And there’s you.”

“Let’s sit.” I grab my coffee and muffin and guide her toward the small couch in the corner. “Why me?”

“After the way we left things at the hotel and everything you’re dealing with . . . I wasn’t sure how you’d react to me being here.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear, the charm bracelet I gave her catching the light and jingling.

“Josie, you’re all I’ve been thinking about. I took off the way I did because it hurt too much. Holding you, knowing I had to let go—it nearly broke me.” I take her hand, gently rubbing my thumb over the top. “I’m sorry if I made you doubt how much I want this.”

“I knew better,” she says quietly. “But a part of me left with you and muddled everything. Talking to you last night helped.”

“I needed you. Still do.”

I thread my fingers through her hair and nudge her close. “I’m so glad you came.”

She leans in, and our lips meet in a kiss that says what words can’ t.

“How did you find me?” I settle back and pull her legs across mine. Her warmth and presence soothes me in a way nothing else can.

“The location app you put on my phone after . . .”

“I knew it would come in handy one day,” I say to keep us both from thinking about the night she disappeared. It’s the same app Ava used to track us cross country. “Ava’s going to be excited you’re here.”

“I’d hoped to see her while I’m here. I brought her painting.”

“Want to give it to her now?”

Her eyes reflect a flicker of nerves. “Now?”

I nod. “I need to get back, and I’m not planning to leave your side, so . . .”

“I like the sound of that.” She lets out a squeak and bounces up, standing between my knees. “Let’s go.”

◆◆◆

Josie’s hand stays tucked in mine as we walk back to the hospital, the spring air doing little to cool the heat in my veins. Not the romantic kind—though that’s there too—but the tight, aching pressure of stepping back into a room that holds everything I love and everything I haven’t forgiven.

The automatic doors open, swallowing us into the sterile brightness of the hospital lobby.

“You okay?” Josie asks.

“I will be. ”

When we reach Ava’s room, I stop outside, pressing my forehead to the cool doorframe. Only the faint beep of machines and murmur of voices filter through. My family’s inside. All of them.

Josie flashes me the butterfly sign I taught her, telling me I can handle this. I mirror it and take a cleansing breath.

“Ready?” she asks, clutching the painting wrapped with cupcake tissue paper to her chest.

“Ready.”

Inside, Ava is propped up in bed, arms wrapped around her stuffed giraffe with the IV tree looming like a guardian at her bedside.

Kayla and Ava are coloring. Victoria sits cross-legged in the window seat, scrolling through something on her phone, while Raidyn helps Mom sort through the bag they brought from the apartment. Dad’s here, too. On the fringe. Trying.

Ava sees us first.

“Sprinkles!” she squeals, arms thrown wide. Her voice is raspy but full of sunshine.

Setting down my coffee and muffin, I cross the room and wrap her in a hug, careful of the wires and lines. “I told you I’d be right back, and I found someone who wanted to say hi.”

Her gaze flies to Josie behind me, joy making her bounce in the bed.

“Hi, Ava,” Josie says, stepping forward. “It’s so good to finally meet you in person. I brought you something.”

A hush falls over the room. Shock frozen on everyone’s faces to see me with someone .

Kayla lifts from the bed, the first to break the trance, as Ava unwraps the painting. She tosses the tissue paper aside and holds the canvas up. “Hot air balloons . It’s perfect.”

“I painted it on the flight here,” Josie says, lowering to sit beside Ava. “I was really scared, but I kept thinking about how brave you are. I wanted to be like you.”

Ava’s lip quivers. “Thank you. I’m so glad you’re here. You make Haysie happy.”

“And he makes me happier than I knew was possible.” Josie reaches for me.

“I really missed you,” Ava tells me, blinking back tears.

Bending, I press my forehead to hers then kiss her there. “I missed you more.”

“You’re so pretty,” she says to Josie.

“Thank you. So are you.”

“How long can you stay? He’s less grumpy now that you’re here.”

“Hey,” I protest to get a rise out of her.

The rest of the room chuckles, lightening the mood—but the moment fractures slightly when my father shifts to sit beside Victoria.

“Just tonight. My flight leaves really early tomorrow.”

Like an alarm reminding us of our limited time, Josie’s phone rings, and she quickly digs it out of her purse. Grant’s name and photo lights the screen, but she cancels the call.

“Sorry about that.” She cringes and puts the phone away. “I may have left in secret.”

“You didn’t tell Grant where you were going?” I ask .