Page 130 of Playing Dirty

“Don’t tell me to sit—”

“Madden Jude,” my mother reprimands before I can finish.

Her scolding tone causes me to turn and look at her. There’s a hint of empathy in her dark eyes, but the harshness in her words leaves little room for debate on the matter. “I understand you’re worried about Theo, but you have to take care of yourself too. Get in bed, and I’ll tell youeverything I know.”

It takes every fiber of my self-control to release my hold on the door handle and head back to the bed. Part of me even considers making a break for it anyway, but Mom—knowing me better than I know myself—has already hit the call button for a nurse to get my IV put back in. She arrives only a few minutes later, and I don’t even notice as they insert the needle into my other arm.

I’m too busy fighting the nausea and terror inside me as I stare at my mom, waiting for the information that very well might break me into a million pieces.

After the nurse cleans up the blood from my other arm and disappears out the door, my mother finally puts me out of my misery.

“Theo was rushed into surgery when you both arrived from the scene,” she tells me slowly. “His right leg had a compound fibula fracture, and they took him in to repair it with pins. He also has a pretty severe concussion and whiplash from the sudden collision. But, sweetheart, I promise, other than that, he’s okay.”

Other than that.

I could almost laugh at the blasé way she says it, though I’m fully aware she’s trying to be helpful. But it’s not, because he’s somewhere in this hospital, hurting, because of me. And I’m stuck in this goddamn bed with barely more than a scratch on me, from what I can tell.

My fingers rap on the bed railing, and I keep my mind wrapped tightly around the last threads of composure I have like they’re a lifeline.

“I have to see him. I need to be there when he wakes up.”

“No, right now you need to take care of yourself,” she repeats, albeit a little more gently this time. “You have a concussion too, and you’re pretty banged up.”

I wave her off. “Nothing’s broken. I’m fine.”

But Theo…

The thought of him is enough to cause those few threads to snap without warning.

My throat constricts, more fear and worry working their way into my windpipe until I can’t breathe around it. The oxygen won’t flow into my lungs; it catches on the knot lodged there with any attempt I make to draw breath. My shoulders hitch with effort until I start to shake, and the second my mother’s arms wrap around me, I feel like I could crack into a thousand shards at her feet.

“Sweetie, you have to calm down, or the nurses are gonna have to come in and sedate you.”

But I can’t calm down. I’m overwhelmed with guilt as it crashes over me and drags me out into a sea of regret. One I’m not strong enough to tread the depths of, so the only thing I can do is drown.

“It’s all my fault, Mom. I was driving and we were arguing, and…” I draw in a deep breath, trying to regain my composure that’s long since turned into fragments. The only thing I can think, the only words I can speak, are—

“I have to see him.”

It comes out as a strange mixture of a plea and a wail, and though I can tell it breaks her heart, she remains steadfast in her resolve.

“You need to rest,” she insists, her tone gentle and soothing. “Adam and his mom are in there with him. He’s not alone, sweetheart.”

“You don’t understand,” I implore, the words coming out dragged over shattered glass.

“I think I do, my love. I think I understand perfectly.”

Her fingers brush through my hair, nails scraping against my scalp theway she’d always do when I was a kid whenever I’d need soothing. But it does nothing for me now.

Doesn’t remotely quell the anxiety buzzing through my body like angry hornets.

I’ve never felt more helpless than I do right now. Even the moments from my childhood with Dad and his addiction, watching Mom struggle after his death…they don’t hold a candle to the pain and fear consuming me right now.

I shake my head, over and over again, because she can’t understand. Even though she’s gone through losing my father, she doesn’t know what this feels like. To feel this kind of guilt for hurting the person I love most in this world—even more than I love her.

It’s that same truth that spills from my lips as my shoulders quake with emotion. “Mom. I love him. I love him so much.”

Her arms wrap around me tighter, squeezing me to her chest with my face tucked into the side of her neck. As if she has the power to hold all my pieces together when they’re threatening to fall apart.