Page 48 of Love Medley (Med Wreck Romance #1)

Chapter thirty-seven

Lucy

A fter Jake leaves my apartment, I sob so hard I can’t breathe. Why did I say the things I did? I wish I could take those words back. Jake must have felt like I was saying he wasn’t good enough.

He is more than good enough. He’s…incredible.

And I don’t deserve him.

Grief weighs me down. Did I feel like this after Weston and I broke up?

The answer is…no.

What I felt after that breakup was extreme loneliness. Sadly, Weston was such a domineering presence in my life that he took up all the empty spaces.

But Jake?

I miss everything about him: his twinkling, teasing gray eyes, his adorable dimples, his strong arms wrapped around me.

And all the memories of him: calming me down after my first panic attack, singing duets with me, staring into my eyes.

That ridiculous car alarm the time we almost kissed.

Silly texts about cotton ball dogs. Snuggles on the couch.

Late night talks. The sushi date where he admitted that he liked me, that his feelings were real.

How he encouraged me to work on the ER project.

The dinner and movie date at his apartment, watching Armageddon .

Sex in the call room. Making dinner for me.

Karaoke with his friends. And the way he has sparked a flame of passion inside of me that I’ve never felt before.

But more than that, I just miss how he makes me feel. His steady, constant warmth was everything. The hyperalertness, the buzzing like I need to be on guard all the time, relaxed when he was around.

At the same time, I can’t help but think…this is better. This is how it should be. Jake shouldn’t be saddled with me. He shouldn’t have to deal with my mess.

I’m impulsive, and I make bad calls. Look at Peter and Weston.

And like Jake said, the death knell for us is this—I can never, ever go against my parents’ wishes.

That’s why I can’t ever make Jake truly happy and secure…the way that he does me .

He deserves someone to choose him.

I’m not sure how long I lie curled up in the fetal position. I’ve never cried this much in my life; my face is swollen and hot to the touch. Hours go by, the sun goes up and down, and I barely even realize it’s night.

I finally stagger out of bed to get some water. As I glance blearily around my apartment, I realize Jake has embedded himself into every aspect of my life. Everything here now reminds me of him, not Weston, which is nothing short of a miracle.

The bed where we made love. The couch where he stroked my hair as we talked. The stove where he cooked me dinner and the glass table where we ate.

He’s made my space feel safe again.

Jake has filled me with joy and happiness, and how did I reward that? By tearing him down and making him feel small, just like the worst people in his life.

I, Lucy Chang, am just as big of an asshole as my mother, his dad, and Sterling.

That knowledge rips me apart.

How can we possibly come back from this? Even though I wish I could take the words back, they were true. I am bad at making decisions. And what happened with Peter is my fault. I do have familial responsibilities that drag me down.

Ones that will never allow me to choose Jake like I want to.

But I know that I’ve hurt him, and the thought of him in agony over what I’ve said and done to him…I deserve this pain .

Just then, my phone lights up with the number of Peter’s alcoholic rehab center.

Finally. I’ve left so many messages, but this is the first time Peter’s calling me back.

“Hello?” My voice sounds like I’m a chain smoker.

“Hey, Luce.” It’s Peter. His voice sounds warm and healthy. He hasn’t sounded like this… ever. I’ve never wanted to be his “big sister.” I just want my big brother back. The reversal of roles has not been good for either of us.

“Hey.” I try to perk up, but my tone comes out flat and devoid of emotion.

“Are you… okay? You sound rough.”

To my surprise, instead of focusing on him and his recovery like I usually do, I burst into tears. “It’s all my fault, Peter, it’s all my fault.”

“What do you mean?”

Between sobs, I tell him about Jake. About how I’ve fallen in love with him, but how we weren’t meant to be. And how I’m at fault just like I was when I failed Peter so long ago. “I’m so, so sorry, Peter,” I wail. “If I hadn’t asked you to go to that stupid concert, you wouldn’t be struggling now.”

To my surprise, there’s a pause and then suddenly laughter.

Not a mean kind of laughter, but a booming, rich-sounding laughter full of life.

If Peter hadn’t sounded so wonderful, I would have started yelling at him for being a jerk.

“This isn’t funny, Peter,” I say, but I’m startled to find I’m smiling despite my tears .

“Lucy. Dear God. Sister of my heart. You are a darling, sweet person. And you know I adore you, right?”

Oh boy. This isn’t a good start. “Um, yes?” I say suspiciously.

“But what I’m going through—it has nothing to do with you, okay?

Look. That night was terrible, I agree. And yes, maybe, I was swayed a little bit by an annoying little sister who wouldn’t leave me alone about a dumb concert.

But sis, I do make my own decisions, and as far as I know, I’ve always been three years older than you—I knew better.

I chose to drink that night. And I chose to drive inebriated like a dumbass.

Did you ever stop to think about how much I was at fault?

Way more than you, that’s for sure. I could have killed you that night because of my idiocy. I could have killed both of us!”

I blink. While everything Peter is saying is true, it’s harder than I expect to let go of my own regret, my own shame. “But our parents were so much harder on you than me. I should have convinced them it was my fault. They wouldn’t have been as rough on you!”

“Our parents don’t understand me. They never have and probably never will.

And again, that’s not on you. Nothing you could ever do or say would convince them to allow me to be my own person.

I was self-destructive, and yes, they were a big part of that.

But the decisions I’ve made in my life are on me.

I’m learning how to take ownership of them and deal with the repercussions of those choices. But that’s my problem, not yours.”

Oh. Wow. “Peter, you sound…whole.”

He exhales. “I think I’m getting there. I really am. It’s been a long time coming, but I had to face my own demons eventually. I think I’m going to go back to school. At least get my GED and then figure out my path from there. I have to live my life for myself, you know?”

I do know. And if Peter can carve his own path, maybe I can too.

“I miss you,” I say. I think that’s the first time I’ve said it without feeling dragged down by the perceived responsibility I feel towards him. Now I just feel sorrow that we haven’t talked more.

“I miss you too, sis. When I’m done here, want to meet up? Have a normal interaction not directed at saving my ass? Just a big brother trying to hang out with his little sis?”

A sob escapes me. “Oh my God, Peter. I didn’t realize how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

“It’s never too late, Lucy. At least, I hope that’s true, otherwise I’m fucked. And I’m pretty sure it’s not too late for you and Jake, not that you need any advice from me.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up.

I’m full of so many emotions. Relief that my big brother is doing okay.

Confusion about this huge obligation in my life that…

was never my responsibility? I wrack my brain, trying to recall if my parents ever actually blamed me for the accident.

Maybe not, but they certainly didn’t reassure me either.

And they definitely wanted me to help with Peter.

At first, it may not have been a conscious decision, but that never stopped them from asking.

My brain is starting to hurt. If that accident wasn’t my fault and my parents aren’t blameless in all of this, what does that mean?

For our whole lives, Peter and I have been defining ourselves relative to our parents, him by pulling away from their expectations and me by trying to meet them.

Now Peter is working on self-discovery. I should do the same.

In fact, I was doing my own soul-searching until everything with Weston, Peter, my parents, and Jake just hit me at the same time.

I retreated back to my “safe place,” back to the Lucy-ah that supposedly was the most ideal version of myself.

The daughter that never spoke out, that never disobeyed her parents.

The one that always toed the line, even though that meant tamping down her natural spark.

I always thought my impulsivity, my exuberance, was a bad thing, something that would hopefully disappear from my personality if I worked hard enough. But now that I’m rewriting my past—do I even want that anymore? And if not, what does that mean?

A fresh stab of pain pierces through my already battered heart as I realize I may have made the biggest mistake of my life. Because I was determined to stay in my lane, I’ve driven away the best man I’ve ever known.

Oh Jake. What have I done?

Then Peter’s last few words ring in my ears.

I’m pretty sure it’s not too late for you and Jake .

I can only hope that’s true.