Chapter Twenty-Five
Pulling into the hospital parking lot, it takes me a few minutes before I can even turn the engine off. I probably look like a crazy person, running through every grounding exercise I’ve learned and touching all the different textures in my truck, but it helps a little.
I’m grateful that Tristan showed up when I texted him and drove me to the track to help rescue my truck and Cade’s bike.
I was exhausted from pacing around the hospital all night, trying to keep Cade’s mom from freaking out, and stonewalling the cops when they briefly showed up to ask questions.
And all through it, Cade didn’t wake up.
Things got real scary real quick in the ambulance, and then they were doing so many tests and stuff that I couldn’t even see him for hours once we got to the ER.
They keep telling me that there’s no reason for him not to be fine, he just needs to heal, but it doesn’t feel like it. Not when I haven’t heard the sound of his voice for so long.
I take a final, steadying breath and climb out of the truck, feeling each of my feet as they hit the asphalt. Tristan pulls into the parking lot a couple spaces down and walks over to join me.
“I appreciate the ride, but you don’t have to walk me in, I’m fine,” I say.
“Yeah but I want to see the kid. I’ll be fast though, I gotta sleep before work tonight.”
Tristan claps his hand on my shoulder, but I flinch because I forgot he has work in a few hours—just like Cade was supposed to—and not only will he not have his normal partner, but he’s spent the morning running around town to help me out.
Guilt seeps into my bones, but it’s a familiar feeling so I let myself numb to it.
“I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have called.”
“Are you kidding? You know I love to play the big savior. Always call. I gotchu.”
We spend the rest of the walk in silence, heading through the busy, buzzing hospital until we get back to Cade’s wing.
Tristan is the one that breaks the silence before we get to the room.
“I’m proud of how you’re holding it together, by the way. It’s been a fucked-up couple of weeks, and you’ve handled all of it,” he says.
I blow out a breath. “I don’t feel like it. If anything I feel like I’ve just made things worse. Or at least not done enough to make them better.”
A wave of emotion pinches at my face while I speak, but I push it back down.
“Nah, that’s bullshit. A year ago? You would have been a wreck.
No offense, but it’s true. You and Cade were still so messy you were running away from each other instead of talking.
At least now you’re trying. You’ve come a long way this year, you should give yourself credit.
You’re making the best choices you can in the circumstances, trying to manage your emotions, you even let me feed you this morning.
That’s nothing to turn your nose up at. That’s progress. ”
He says it all in a too-light tone, which somehow makes the words easier to swallow. But then he gets more serious.
“You—and the rest of us trauma babies, let’s be real—will never be what most people think of as normal. These problems will always be a part of you. But you can get it to a place where it’s manageable, and let that be your new normal. You’re already well on your way. So don’t give up.”
We pass Kris talking animatedly to someone at the nurse’s station and I hope she’s not being rude but I don’t have the energy to check right now.
But from the few words I overhear, it sounds like Cade’s awake, which makes both me and Tristan pick up speed on the way to his room.
As soon as we get to the open doorway, though, I freeze.
It’s not panic that sets in, or anxiety.
It’s something heavy. Something that tells me the world is changing around me too fast, and if I just pause for a minute, I can delay the inevitable.
There are so many possibilities for what could happen when I walk into that room and see how Cade is, and I’m not ready to face a single one of them.
“You okay?” Tristan asks.
“I need a minute. You go in.”
The words come out in a whisper, and I force myself to stand with my back to the wall, taking one deep breath after another.
Tristan nods and heads inside. He leaves the door open, though, so I can hear everything that gets said once he’s inside.
“Hey,” Cade says. “Are you here to yell at me?”
His voice sounds rough, but strong. And calm, which possibly relieves me most of all.
“Do you want me to yell at you?”
There’s a pause, and I can picture Cade fiddling with whatever’s in his hands while he thinks.
“Kinda. I know I deserve it.”
“Well then I’m not going to yell at you, because you’d take it as some kind of absolution. It sounds like you’re finally waking up to how bad things have gotten and maybe it’ll be good for you to sit with that for a while,” Tristan responds.
Another pause.
“Is Silas okay?” There’s a lot of emotion packed into those three words, and it makes me feel… something. Less despair, I guess.
“Yeah, he’s okay. He’s tougher than you think he is, y’know. He’ll be here in a minute.”
There’s a much longer silence than I think I could handle in a conversation, but waiting here is bringing me a little calm.
“What do I need to do?” Cade asks.
Tristan sighs dramatically.
“I love dispensing pearls of wisdom, but hell, Cade. I’ve been trying and you’re not listening, so maybe you need to figure this one out for yourself.
But I bet actually listening to Silas when you talk to him will do you a lot of good.
” He hesitates before continuing. “Give him what he’s asking for, not what you think he needs.
And for the love of fuck, remember that in the last 24 hours, he’s watched you get fucked up in an accident, then get a needle aspiration in the back of an ambulance for a partial pneumo, and then get intubated in the ER because you were barely breathing on your own, and then lay here unconscious for the rest of the night while he could only stand there and fucking wait. ”
“Fuck, that’s so bad. I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
Cade sounds shaken, which makes me feel better. Like he’s finally getting it. Although I hate how bad things had to get for him to wake up.
“Of course you didn’t, you were unconscious. But you’re lucky Sharon knows her shit,” Tristan snaps.
“I’m sorry, T.”
“I’m not who you should be apologizing to.”
“No, I know. But I also need to apologize to you. I’ve made you do a lot of chasing me up and babysitting, and I know you have other shit to do.
I don’t know when I got used to having you around as a safety net, but I obviously got a little too comfortable.
I need to remember to take care of my own shit and not lean on you. ”
Tristan sighs again, and then I hear the bed creak.
“I am here as a safety net. I don’t mind it.
And as much as I’m pushing you to act like a grown up, you’re still patching up all the holes from the growing up you didn’t get to do right as a kid.
When your parents are addicts, it’s like every developmental stage happens way too fast or not at all.
So you can cut yourself the teeny, tiniest sliver of slack for that.
I’ll be here when you fuck up again. But you need to learn from everything that’s happened the past couple of weeks instead of making the same mistakes over and over. ”
Cade doesn’t respond, but I can imagine the devastation on his face right now. He hates feeling like he’s disappointed someone. He’ll never admit it, but he fucking hates it.
I can hear Tristan get off the bed.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go sleep before shift tonight.”
“Fuck. I forgot we have work tonight. Oh man, they’re gonna be so mad I’m calling out again after I just went back. Christ, this is bad.”
“Well, you’re in luck that I’m a workaholic, because I had enough PTO stacked up to donate it to you.
They were grateful, to be honest. You know it makes management nervous when you have too many hours banked.
So you can afford to take the time to rest up and get your head straight.
And heal the hole in your lung, while you’re at it. ”
Tristan’s footsteps move back toward me and the open doorway. Cade doesn’t say anything I can hear, but Tristan keeps talking as he exits.
“Thank me by fixing it.”
Tristan doesn’t say anything else to me when he walks out, just nods in silence and then leaves. It’s weirdly comforting.
I still don’t go in. I keep waiting. Just another minute, and then I can face it.
I’m not sure how long it actually takes, but when I do walk in, it startles Cade.
He looks up at me with tear-filled eyes that I wasn’t expecting.
He always puts so much energy into pushing shit down, it’s weird to see him crack.
His skin is blotchy and there are dark circles under his eyes, and I can’t believe how close I came to losing him, after everything we’ve been through.
There are a few seconds where we just look at each other, and then something in Cade seems to snap. The shimmering eyes turn into actual sobs, and I cross the room before I know what’s happening, sitting next to him on the bed and pulling him close to me.
Cade cries in a way I’ve never seen from him before.
It’s all the grief and rage he’s been bottling up for fucking years, pouring out into my lap.
It should break my heart, and it does, but honestly I’m relieved.
It feels like every single problem we’ve had recently could have been avoided if Cade would fucking allow himself to feel an emotion other than anger.
Maybe that’s the therapy in me seeing my shit in everyone else, I don’t know, but the way he’s letting it out right now makes me think it’s true.
At some point, Kris and the nurse poke their heads through the door, probably because of the noise. Luckily, Cade doesn’t see them, and I’m able to wave them away. They also close the door behind them, which feels like a relief.