Page 50 of Silver Linings

“I was dying here!” Everyone in the cramped hospital room goes stock still at the admission I lay at their feet.

Even my dad’s fury seems to abate a fraction in the face of my words.

“I—” I choke back the tears I’m trying hard not to release in front of the man who will only see it as weakness.

If I start, I won’t stop, and I need to get this out.

“Maddie tried to get me to see it. He begged me before he died to start living my life for me and I didn’t understand.

I didn’t realize it then—that I was just going through the motions.

It wasn’t until I met…” I trail off, thinking of Silver, and a small smile creeps onto my face.

“Well, I’m so sorry that being with your family is such a burden,” my dad sneers.

“Jonah,” my mother admonishes, but my dad won’t even acknowledge anyone else is in the room but me.

“That.” I point an accusing finger at him.

“That right there is the problem. You’re so goddamn stubborn.

Your pride is a monster that fills up every room, allowing no space for me to feel anything or grow in a way I want to.

You won’t allow it. How am I supposed to have an open conversation with you when your gut instinct is to repress everything you feel? ”

That infamous pride rears its ugly head now. “No one’s forcing you to be here.”

I can hear my mom suck in a breath as Laurel’s monitors beep behind me.

I wish Silver was here with me. She would probably be telling off my dad in fine form, and it would make my mom adore her, make Laurel want to be her best friend, and it would make me love her even more.

I miss the steadying feeling I get just by being around her.

I want to hear her raspy laugh floating through the air as we fix the store up for the opening.

The opening…which is today. And I’m on the other side of the country.

“Fuck!” I shout, frantically reaching into my pockets in search of my phone, but I can’t find it anywhere. “No. No. No.” My phone isn’t here. I must have left it in the cab, and the terror I felt over Laurel’s condition kept me from noticing until now.

“Honey? What’s wrong?” There’s concern in Mom’s voice after my outburst.

“I…I lost my phone, and—” I glance at the clock on the wall, noting that with the flight and the time zone change, Silver would have already opened the store, and I wasn’t there with her.

My heart sinks into my stomach, and I feel sick, knowing I’ve let her down on the day it mattered most for me to show up, to show her she’s more than worthy of the love she thinks she’s incapable of.

I sink down into the chair next to Laurel’s bed and drop my head into my hands.

“I should be there.” Renewed nausea churns in my gut.

My mom crouches down to face me at eye level. “Where?”

“Silver’s store opening. I should be there, and I’m not. She’s… everything , and she needs me today. I’m not there, and she doesn’t know why. I can’t tell her why.”

Understanding dawns on their faces as they realize exactly who Silver must be to me.

“I left my phone in the car but I can go get it,” Mom offers, but I’m already shaking my head.

“I don’t know her number by heart yet, and the store’s phones aren’t working either. There’s no way to tell her what happened.”

Silence permeates the room, no one knowing what to say at my obvious distress. “Will you tell us about her?” Mom asks, clearly wanting intel on the woman who flipped my world upside down.

It draws the tiniest of smiles out of me.

I start by telling them about how she spilled her coffee on me that first day we met, how the scent now reminds me of her.

I tell them how it shocked the hell out of me to discover that she was a tenant of the building I worked at and how I had to fix up her apartment and loved every day more and more.

How the thought of not seeing her daily made me feel panicky, and I offered to help her repair her store just to stay close to her.

I tell them about how each day, I felt myself slowly come back to life, one smile, one question, one repaired floorboard at a time.

I told them about our first date and the ones after, about how she is kind, compassionate, whip smart, and funny as hell.

About how hard she’s worked to build the community she always craved, despite her fears, and how that bravery made me feel fearless too.

I told them how I had never felt more myself around anyone before, how I was able to open up to her like I had been doing it my whole life.

Every day felt like the greatest adventure with Silver, one I prayed to any god that would listen would still be the case after today.

And when I ran out of things to say, because our story was still new and unfurling, I looked up to find both my mom and my sister with tears streaming down their faces.

“I didn’t realize,” my mom says, choking back tears, “how much you were deteriorating here, how much you blamed yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.

I didn’t realize until just now, listening to you talk about her.

Your whole face just came to life before our eyes.

I can’t remember the last time I saw that look on your face.

Long before we lost your brother, at least.”

I placed my hand on my mom’s arm. “It’s okay, Mom. We were all lost in our own grief.”

She’s shaking her head in refusal, but it’s true.

We all died a little the day we lost Maddox.

That part of us was gone forever; we would never be the same, but we could find new versions of ourselves, find the adventure he craved and live it for him, for us.

It’s what he would want. What he begged of me that day, right before we lost him…

it took me a while to figure it out, but I did.

I like to think he’s rolling his eyes at me from the beyond for having my head shoved up my ass for this long.

“So what are you still doing here then?” Laurel asks, wiping tears from her face.

“What do you mean?”

“You have to go back to New York, to tell her what happened. Like right now.” She motions with her hands to shoo me out the door.

“Laurel, I can’t leave. Look at you.”

“I know. It’s hard to believe I can look this good after a car accident.” She makes a show of inspecting her nails, the picture of elegance in a hospital gown.

Dad snorts from the door in a rare display of humanity; I almost forgot he was here.

“Be serious. I can’t leave you like this.”

“You can and you will,” Mom chimes in. “You love this girl.” A fact, not a question.

I nod my head in an affirmation she didn’t need.

“Then it’s settled. You need to get back to New York now, explain to her what happened, make a grand gesture.

Whatever it takes. Don’t let my daughter-in-law go without a fight. ”

“Mom, it’s only been a few months,” I say to deflect against what I’m really feeling as butterflies take flight in my stomach, thinking about Silver being mine forever.

“A mother always knows.” She winks.

“Seriously, Hen, my doctor said she would probably discharge me by tomorrow morning anyway. I’m okay. You did right by me by showing up. Go do right by your girl.”

Moisture builds along my lashes as I stand from my chair and bend down to kiss my sister on her head. “I love you.”

“Yuck. Love has made you mushy and soft.” She pushes me away and towards Mom, who I wrap in a tight hug.

“I’ll call you next time, I promise. I’m sorry.” I deepen my squeeze.

“I know you will.”

I’m walking back towards the door when I see my dad standing guard next to it, arms crossed and face unforgiving.

“Leaving again?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

I nod. “You always taught me to be a man of my word didn’t you?

” His jaw tightens at the brief mention of how he raised me being thrown in his face.

“If you want to talk,” I pause, wondering if I’m putting myself out there for nothing, “try to fix this…rift, then you know where to find me. But it’s your decision now. ”

I give my mother and sister one last look, one smile I hope conveys everything I’m feeling—that I love them, that I’m in a good place. They don’t need to worry about me; I will call them as soon as I can.

I tap on the frame of the doorway and make my way back out into the cold Seattle air, hop in a taxi, and make my way back to the airport for the second time today.

Only this time, I’m going back home.

When I make it to the store, no one is there.

I knew it was a long shot with the time difference and six hour flight, but I had to try in the hopes Silver might still be here, cleaning up after what I know was a wildly successful day.

So, I beeline home, flying through the front door fast enough that it puts Jae on full alert. He jumps off the couch and brandishes his dinnerware as a weapon in case I’m an intruder.

When he sees it’s me, he relaxes. “Dude, what the hell? Where have you been?”

“Seattle.” I head toward my room, Jae trailing behind me.

“What? Why were you in Seattle?”

“Laurel was in a car accident.” I start stripping, desperate to change out of the clothes I’ve been wearing for the last eighteen hours, give or take.

“What? Is she okay? What happened? Hendrix!”

“Huh?”

“Is Laurel okay?” His eyes have gone frantic, and his chest rises and falls in rapid succession.

“Shit, yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. She’s banged up and has some broken bones, but she’s fine. The doctor is going to release her in the morning.”

He drops down on my bed, relieved. “So why are you acting so…turbulent?”

The image of Silver setting up the shop, excited for the big day, waiting for me to walk through the shop doors holding her favorite coffee, flits through my mind.

Then her face falling when that moment never came.

I failed her and I have to make it right—will do anything to make sure she knows I am her safe harbor.

“I need your help.” My brain runs a million miles a minute, trying to figure out how to pull off what I need to do.

“Whatever you need, brother.” He places an arm on my shoulder, sensing the gravity of the moment, and I quickly recount the events of the last

“Can you DM Kena? It’s not too late, and there’s a chance he’ll see the message. I need to get his number again so I can call him from your phone. And then we need to call Sam. We’re going to need him for this too.”

“I have Kena’s number,” Jae states proudly.

“Really?” I would be less shocked but the one time we all hung out, Jae spent ninety percent of his night with a bachelorette party instead of us.

“Yeah, I asked him to send me the recording of your performance. You enthusiastically singing, “What Dreams Are Made Of, is going to be the song that plays as I enter mine and Laurel’s wedding.” He unlocks his phone and hands it to me.

“I’m looking forward to watching Laurel string you up by your balls for even suggesting that.” I scroll through his list of contacts, finding Kena’s name and pressing call.

The phone rings twice before the line connects, and the voice on the other end starts yelling when I tell him who it is. When Kena stops, I plead, “I know. Which is why I need your help.”