Above the Truths (Chatham Hills #2)

1. Violet

ONE

VIOLET

She didn’t make it.

My pulse pounds wildly, and I know, without a doubt, it’s nothing compared to the sledgehammer pulverizing Colson’s heart. I’m squished between him and Sebastian in the back of a sleek SUV that the valet fetched for us when we sprinted out of the fundraiser with his aunt and uncle.

I want to lean into him and offer the reminder that I’m here, but his gaze remains fixed on the scenery on the other side of the window. A blur of trees and buildings and the nudge of life whenever we pass someone walking by.

My heart leaps into the back of my throat as I push my worries aside and reach out to rest my hand on his leg. I’ve never lost someone in my life. As much as I want to be here for him, I’m worried that I’ll mess it up, that I won’t know what to say to make this just a little bit easier.

A breath passes before his gorgeous blue eyes turn to me. It’s when he speaks that I realize the devastation in his gaze doesn’t hold a candle to the destruction evident in his voice.

“She’s been on the brink of overdosing before and has always made it back. You saw how she looked on Thanksgiving. She’s fine.” He declares it more for himself than me. It’s clear he’s turning to denial for comfort, but I hear the doubt underneath it. Even more so when he murmurs, “She has to be.”

She looked as though life was ready to float out of her body and become one with the breeze on the other side of the living room wall that night. I remember how it twisted my insides up, how it made me worry for her well-being enough to momentarily question Colson, only to learn that he was right. She was fine .

But that was different.

His uncle wasn’t there saying how she didn’t make it.

I don’t want to remind him of that, but I also know it’s crucial that he doesn’t take this lightly. His mom is gone, and he doesn’t believe it’s true. Getting stuck in a vicious turnaround of denial will only make it worse.

I swallow and my heart drops back down into my chest cavity. “Colson, I?—”

“She could still be okay,” he says in one solid breath. I don’t miss the way his voice wavers at the end of his sentence as he tries to convince us that his mom is still a living, breathing human.

“Right?” Colson’s one-worded question is a whisper on his lips and draws me from my thoughts. It reaches out into the air between us and tries to latch on to the one thing that’s keeping us afloat: hope.

And because I don’t know how to navigate this without crushing him all over again, I ignore the horrible feeling inside of me and offer a tiny nod before repeating his words back to him. “She could still be okay.”

His fingers twine between mine, tightening until there’s no space between our palms. He needs someone, and he wants that someone to be me. Him leaning on me is everything, but I can’t ignore the knot in my stomach that accompanies it. The one that confirms I don’t know what I’m doing. The one that tells me Colson is only delaying the inevitable pain that lies ahead.

He looks back out the window as we merge onto the 401 to cross the Sycamore Memorial Bridge. Sebastian clears his throat on the other side of me, and I reach my other hand out to him, resting my open palm on his knee. He doesn’t think twice before wrapping one hand around it and holding it in his lap.

I meet his gaze, desperate for the usual joy in the depths of his eyes. Sebastian, who’s always in a likable mood with a smile tipping the corner of his lips upward, has apprehension written in the perimeters of his hazel irises. So much that if I were standing, it’d make me waver. Like standing in a moving car that suddenly brakes.

His focus flicks to Colson before it's back on me. Nausea takes over my stomach as I lean my head back onto the headrest.

The denial fueling Colson’s hope will vanish when we get to the hospital. Everything he has ever known will become a series of questions he’ll overanalyze. Answers to things he was never prepared to hear will be voiced. And there’s this grand possibility that I’ll have no idea how to help him out of the grief that will indefinitely consume his soul and try to darken every light corner he’s ever known.

The SUV rolls up to the emergency entrance at Harrison General Hospital. Sebastian thanks the driver and flings the door open. His large body blocks our view of the outside world when he steps out. I take it as an opportunity to scoot back and shift in Colson’s direction.

I run my palm up his cheek, stretching my thumb to smooth the indent between his eyebrows. “I know you want to get in there,” I tell him, swallowing down the sadness that threatens to come up. “But promise me that you’ll remember that you can lean on my shoulder whenever you need it.”

His blue eyes flit to the open door. He wants out of this car as much as I wish I could turn back time and create a second chance for his mom.

I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull his face closer until our foreheads are one. He pulls back slightly, flinching at our close proximity, antsy to flee. Like a caged animal being struck by a current of electricity, he can’t get away fast enough.

Fear grips my chest and bubbles inside of me. Fear for so many reasons it’s hard to think straight. Over him breaking down the second we get in there. Over all these feelings zipping through my body. How one palm pressed against his skin exaggerates every single one of them. Over him retreating and turning into the version of himself who tried pushing me away Thanksgiving night.

“Please, Colson.” My eyes fall shut as his warm breath fans out between our faces. “All I’m asking is that whatever we’re about to walk into, you don’t shut me out.”

His hand moves to my side, sliding up the fabric of my dress before moving back down to settle at my waist. He presses a gentle kiss to my mouth, and I hang on for dear life, dragging it out for one more measly second that he cuts in half.

The truth is…I’m worried for him, but I’m worried for me, too. I didn’t expect Colson to come into my life the way he did. I didn’t plan to lean on him as my confidant. Nor was I looking for someone new so soon after ending my relationship with Webber.

Colson fell into my lap, and the connection we share is unlike anything I’ve ever had with anyone else. It’s everything I never knew I needed and more. The thought of him about to walk into a scenario that might bring him to his knees has me terrified over what our future together might look like.

I feel guilty for even thinking about us and our relationship at a moment like this.

“I know you are,” he breathes out after pulling away from my mouth. His words barely soothe the ache that’s taken over my body.

“Do you?” I murmur as trepidation laces in those two simple words. “Because I’m worried you might forget.”

He blows out a heavy breath, and I back away. His expression softens but does nothing to calm me. His tongue darts out and glides over his bottom lip. “I could never forget about you, Vi.”

I run a hand over his suit jacket and nod. “We should get in there then.”

“Yeah, we should.”

I twist, scooting over to where Sebastian has his hand held out for me so I don’t trip over my dress. He helps me out of the vehicle, and I realize I’ve never been more grateful for him in my life than now. For being here. For not batting an eye back at the fundraiser but rather gracefully getting to his feet with that look in his eye that said he’d do anything for those he loves.

The reassuring squeeze he gives my hand before he lets go tells me he’s there for me, too. I offer him a small smile and walk the few steps to the side so I’m not blocking Colson in. Sebastian pats his shoulder and tightens his hold for a breath before slamming the SUV door shut.

Bess and Thad lead us into the emergency department, where they ask the check-in nurse for details about Janie Moore. Colson falls in step beside his aunt and listens intently, his shoulders pushed back and tense.

Bright fluorescent lighting shines down on us and instantly creates a soreness that settles in behind my eyes. The bulbs are almost blinding with the way they cast light over us. The distinct hospital smell that everyone knows but can’t seem to describe fills the air, making it worse. My stomach tightens when the nurse points to the hall beside her desk and asks we wait in one of the family rooms.

“I’ll page her doctor, and he’ll be in to fill you in on the details,” she says, devoid of the overwhelming emotion that consumes us. Then again, she does this on a daily basis, and because I can’t fathom how hard that must be, I give her a pass.

Thad nods and expresses his thanks as he guides his wife in the direction of the hall. Poor Bess. She looks like she saw a ghost. The complete opposite of the lively woman I met at the fundraiser. She’s drawn back, her eyes downcast, as her husband leads the way.

Colson walks with them without glancing back to see if Sebastian and I are following. I try not to take it to heart. This moment isn’t about me, and I can accept that.

The thought of sitting with them while we wait for the doctor to come in and tell us what happened makes my stomach heave with sadness and dread. I want to be back there with them, but I’m not sure I should be. I’m not a Moore or a Rodriguez. What’s the purpose of me sitting in there when I’ve never had a conversation with Janie? Or when it seems like Colson might not need me at all?

I was Colson’s date for the fundraiser, and we might be together, but suddenly, this seems like a situation he and his family should handle together. Alone. Without outsiders. Without a girlfriend who’s on the verge of her own breakdown over a reason entirely separate from the one they’re facing.

I reach out for Sebastian’s forearm. He seems to be the only one who isn’t falling apart at the seams in some way or another. Well, him and his dad, but Thad’s too devoted to Bess to care about himself.

“Sebastian, wait.” I glance at his family who are a good fifteen feet ahead of us.

His hand comes up to my elbow when he stops. Concern washes over his face. “What is it, Violet?”

I shake my head—back and forth, back and forth—like a bobble head. “I don’t…I don’t think I should go back there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he chides.

My face drops, my gaze settling on his ultra-shiny Armani dress shoes. “I’m serious.”

He steps into my space and tilts my head up so I’m looking at him. The sorrow that came over me back in the car magnifies, and my eyes fill with tears. I hate that I’m not being stronger for Colson. That this all is starting to feel like a lot. That my heart is breaking for him and me at the same time.

His eyes dart between mine. “You’ve been there for him more than she ever fucking has. You belong in that room with him for that reason alone.”

“He thinks she’s still alive, Sebastian. He doesn’t know how much his world is about to flip upside down.”

“He’s going to need you there when it does.”

“What if he doesn’t want that? What if I don’t know how to be there? Jesus, I’ve never lost anyone before. How am I supposed to help him through something I’ve never experienced?”

“You don’t need to have lost someone to love a person and take care of them. There’s no one else he wants more than you when vulnerability has him by the balls. Now, we’re going back there, both of us. When that doctor comes in and tells us whatever the fuck he has to say, we’ll listen, and in the moments when Colson falls and can’t get back up, you’ll take one shoulder and I’ll take the other. Together, we’ll hoist his ass back to his feet.”

He has a point.

I blow out a big breath.

I can do this.

My ability to be there for Colson has nothing to do with what I’ve survived in the past but everything to do with how much I care about him now.

“Okay, yeah,” I nod in agreement despite my stomach being queasy with uncertainty. “You’re right. I need to pull myself together. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for being empathetic. It just proves how good you are for him.” He holds a hand out for me to take. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Moments after we settle into seats in the family room, a man stands at the threshold and taps his knuckle on the solid wooden door frame. A white doctor’s coat hangs off his shoulders, but he swings it back and clamps his palms on his waist. “Is this the Moore family?”

Colson lifts his gaze from the floor.

Bess immediately looks at him. “Yes,” she confirms through swiping a tear off her face. “We’re here for Janie.”

He softly clicks the door shut behind him before motioning for Bess to sit again. He takes one of the chairs across from us and introduces himself. “I’m Dr. Elsher. I work here in the emergency department at Harrison General Hospital.” He rests his elbows on the arm of the chair and clasps his hands together. The early stages of fine lines trace his light green eyes, and aside from his thinning hair, he looks like a man who deeply cares about his patients.

I scoot to the edge of my seat. I’m not the only one. Colson rests most of his weight on his legs, his hands fisted together like the doctors. Bess sits forward, Thad’s hand a permanent fixture running circles over her back. It’s so painfully silent as we wait for the doctor’s next words that all of our heartbeats become one, racing toward the news he’s about to give.

“I assume you were aware that Janie was an inmate at Harrison Heights County Jail.” His eyes play a round of Frogger, jumping between the five of us. “She was found unconscious on a work assignment by the guards on shift. She was unresponsive with a shallow heartbeat. Medical personnel worked on her until an ambulance transport brought her here. The guards found an empty syringe next to her body.”

Bess blinks multiple times. “A syringe?”

“Afraid so.”

“Do they know what was inside of it or how she got it?”

“I don’t have an answer to your second question. Cases like these usually go under investigation within the corrections system, but given Ms. Moore’s history with drug abuse and some of the symptoms she presented with, we treated appropriately as we would with anyone who is having obvious signs of an overdose.”

Bess brings her hand to her throat, and her eyes overflow with more tears. “Yes, that’s, uh,” she clears her throat, “that’s what they told me on the phone when they called.”

The doctor gives a sympathetic nod. “We also took blood for a drug panel.”

Colson bypasses the doctor’s words. “How’s she doing now? Can we see her?”

The doctor's eyes linger on him for a moment before he asks, “You’re her son, I take it?” Colson gives a terse dip of his chin. “We attempted to treat your mom with naloxone, a drug that often reverses the side effects of an opioid overdose. I’m sorrow-stricken to say that its effects were temporary. It’s likely that years of drug use had impacted her system far too greatly. Her heart gave out shortly after we anticipated we were in the clear. There was nothing more we could do.”

The weight of Dr. Elsher’s words steals the air from the room, including the breath in our lungs. Like one of those food vacuum sealers, the hall sucks every bit of oxygen out, leaving us with nothing.

A high-pitched sob leaves Bess’s mouth, and she buries her head into Thad’s shoulder. I have a hard time getting a deep enough breath in myself. The more I try, the sharper it stings. A figurative needle pinches into my lung cavity, and oh my God , if I’m feeling this way, what is going through Colson’s head?

His shoulders harden, and the muscles in his forearms turn to stone. He swallows, the ripple at his throat the only indication that he’s connecting the doctor’s admission with Thad’s words from earlier.

Sebastian's large palm moves to the back of Colson’s neck, and he kneads the muscles. It’s his way of saying he’s sorry. That his condolences are with him.

The corners of my eyes prick with the familiar sting of tears. When one slips past my eyelashes, I mentally log the sensation before it stops at my jawline.

Colson deserves more than losing his mom to her addiction on the same night we were celebrating people who have worked so hard to overcome theirs. She could’ve been among the many who stood on the stage at Willaker Hall and told their stories. Yet she was locked up in county jail and succumbed to the devil’s whispered pleas for attention.

“I’ll leave you to process the weight of the news. Please know that someone will have to claim the body, or the county will proceed with burial proceedings since she was incarcerated at the time of the overdose. When you’re ready, let the triage nurse know, and someone will take you back.” He rubs his hands over the material of his blue scrubs and stands. “My deepest condolences for your loss.”

Sebastian is the first to his feet when the doctor leaves. He paces the length of the small space and runs his hands down over his face. I scoot closer to Colson, holding onto his bicep as I bring my hand to his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him in a choked whisper.

He flinches, and his jaw tenses. As if he hates hearing those words come out of my mouth. For the life of me, I can’t get a read on him. I can’t tell if he’s ready to storm out of the room, tear down the walls, or scream to the heavens above.

He hangs his head between his shoulders, and when I entwine my fingers between his, he fails to grip mine back. It’s as if he’s lifeless, unable to move under the realness of his new life. One where his mom is gone, and there’s nothing he can do to bring her back.

“You don’t deserve this,” I croak. “She didn’t, either.”

He shakes my hand from his before standing along with Sebastian. The fact that he doesn’t acknowledge my words or sympathy is a punch to the gut, but I push it away, knowing that today is about him more than me. It's not lost on me how it's the second time I'm reminding myself of this. He just found out his mom is dead. He’s allowed to feel what he needs in order to get through this.

I sit back in my chair. I’m unsure of what to do with my hands, so I grip the armrests, hoping like hell it’ll keep the room from spinning. It does about as much as holding onto the bar of a roller coaster cart.

Colson makes it halfway to the door before Sebastian palms his chest and stops him. “Where are you going? You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Colson rips his cousin’s hand away at the same moment Bess and Thad look in their direction. She wipes away the grief dripping down her cheeks as Colson lashes out. “Get the hell out of my way.”

“If you’re leaving, then I’m going with you,” Sebastian tells him.

“No, you’re not.”

Sebastian challenges him by raising his brow and lowering his voice. “You’re processing a lot, and it’s going to sucker punch you in the side of the head when you least expect it. Let someone be there for when that happens.”

“I don’t need anybody,” Colson claims in that stubborn voice of his.

“Colson, I think Sebastian is right,” Bess offers quietly. “It's imperative we lean on each other right now.”

The image of him punching through drywall suddenly hits me. She may be right, but the best thing for her nephew is for him to be alone, for him to have space. I see it in the way he’s carrying himself that if he doesn’t get distance soon, everything around him will suffer the consequences of his outburst.

“Let him go,” I murmur, though it pains me to say it.

My eyes move to Colson’s back and the way his suit jacket clings to his broad shoulders. I swear I see the faintest amount of tension lift from them. His head moves the slightest bit to the side and dips down. Like he’s grateful for my input. More than he was a minute ago, anyway.

I don’t want to watch him walk away but force the words out despite the turmoil swirling in circles inside of me. “Give him space to breathe and think.”

Sebastian reluctantly steps out of Colson’s way. He’s gone a second later.