Chapter 30. Sage
I knew it. I’ve known something was coming. Almost every night for the last week, I’ve woken up and needed to curl my fists in my sheets to keep from clawing at Fisher like I was falling. Most nights, I’ve had to get up and read or write in my journal instead. But this afternoon, I woke up from a nap gasping, like some connected thread was trying to pull my lungs from my body.
Silas got separated from his crew on a ridge and fell down a mountainside. He’s alive but sustained major burns to 20 percent of his body, in addition to inhalation injury. He’s been put in a medically induced coma to keep him on a ventilator and to allow them to manage his pain.
Fisher says nothing when he peels into my driveway, only holds my hand when I silently climb into the truck. I’m not sure how many traffic laws he breaks on the four-hour drive, but I know it should have taken us over five to get to the hospital where Silas is placed.
Voices all sound like they come from far away as I make my way down the hospital hall. I keep my lips clamped together and my jaw clenched tight. Until I see Ellis.
Ellis with his head in his hands. The Ellis that works so hard to protect everyone and everything that he’s left no room for himself in between. The Ellis that had to become a man too young, who has carried the weight of the world since he was thirteen. The one who told me when Mom was gone when my own dad couldn’t get out the words. He looks up at me, and I see his face dip into something like shame, then rearrange with a viselike grip, like he doesn’t want to burden me by breaking.
Silas—somehow I know Silas will be okay. He’ll find a way to turn any scars into stories. But god, Ellis.
He pulls me into a hug and raps his fist gently against my spine.
“When we pulled him out of there,” he says, “his first words before he passed out were, ‘At least nothing got my face.’”
I sob-laugh hysterically.