Chapter 4 #2
I squeeze my necklace harder and walk to the bedside.
He’s so still and peaceful, and if it weren’t for the bloated eye and bandages, I’d think he was just having a good nap.
I want to say something, but what? Instead, I grip the metal railing on the bed.
Should I touch his hand to let him know I’m here?
No! Stop. That’s just my head. It’s not appropriate.
He probably needs to sleep. Just say something, but don’t wake him.
“Hey there, Hayden,” I mumble, struggling to make eye contact even with his eyes closed.
I focus on the clear tube hanging from one of the machines and follow it down to his arm.
“It’s Kenzie. Well, you probably know me as Mackenzie.
You know, from the bakery…uh, Woodsy Café & Cakes.
I’m the short one who usually makes your drinks. ”
What else can I say? How do I make sure he knows who I am? What am I thinking? He’s asleep. He can’t hear a word I’m saying. I roll my eyes at myself and go on anyway. I need to say something.
“U-uh, I’m the one with, uh, two different e-eye colors, green and blue.
You might not have noticed that though,” I say.
Most people do, but I probably shouldn’t assume.
I think it freaks some people out. I’ll catch their pupils darting from right to left, not sure which color to focus on.
Do I focus on the bluish-gray one on the right or the muted sage green one on the left?
“Most people call me Kenzie. Oh, I already said that. Sorry.”
It’s odd talking to someone who doesn’t seem to be listening. Even if that someone is absolutely amazing and has the kindest smile, except he’s not really smiling right now either.
“Sorry about what happened. I should have warned you. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry. And I swear Landon didn’t mean for you to slip,” I tell him, leaning in closer to whisper. “Please don’t sue him. He’s horrified he’s going to jail.”
The thought makes me giggle, and I manage to look at Hayden’s stoic face. He’s so calm, and so am I now, as long as I don’t focus on the purple bruise and bandages.
“You’re still beautiful, even like this, you know?” I blush again. I can’t believe I just said that to his literal face. “We’ve not really talked before, so I don’t know what to say, but—”
“My baby.” A woman’s coarse voice shoots into the room followed by a stampede of feet.
“Hayden.” An old gruff voice.
“Calm down, he’s sleeping,” an older lady says more quietly.
“He’s in a coma, of course he’s asleep,” a small sarcastic voice replies.
A what? A coma?
I turn in time to see who’s talking. She’s young, super pale, a blonde preteen at best. She darts for the bedside, and five more people pile into the room, focused on Hayden.
An older gentleman who reminds me of the old actor in that Pedro Pascal comedy where they’re trying to stop a drug lord while attempting to make a movie.
A middle-aged woman with long nearly black hair, probably his mother, races to Hayden’s bedside and clamps her fingers around the bedrail.
I shuffle back and cower in the corner. I don’t know these people and they definitely don’t know me. Did they even see me? And did she really say a coma? Is Hayden in a coma?! It can’t be.
I contemplate running. They haven’t seen me yet, and Mom’s waiting for me at home for Thanksgiving dinner.
She’s probably blowing up my phone by now.
I’m going to be in so much trouble. I eke a foot across the tan floor, trying not to make a noise.
Only a few steps and I’ll be out of trouble. One more step, another.
“Ahem.”
I freeze, eyes locked on the group in front of me.
They haven’t noticed me yet. I manage to unfreeze just before I find Regina staring me down.
Her eyes narrow, and I do the only thing I know to do.
I smile. One of those big oops-you-caught-me grins.
I half expect her to grab me by the arm and pull me out into the hallway, but instead she sighs and shakes her head, although a gentle rise in her cheek belies a subtle smile.
Before I can mouth a silent thank you, the tall slender middle-aged woman starts up.
“My poor baby boy.” She leans against Hayden’s bed, cupping his head in her palm. She’s pretty. Her hair hangs in long wavy strands of black. From a glance, her eyes are dark-dark brown. Is that Mrs. Marcus? His mom? “Mama’s here.”
Yep.
“Who’s that?” The preteen’s voice pierces the room. She’s pointing directly at me, arm stretched out like she’s pointing out a witch in Salem. Okay, I am a witch, but we’re not burning them nowadays.
“Uh, I-I…” I stutter.
“Who are you?” That must be Mr. Marcus. I’m frozen again. He’s distinguished. Shorter than Hayden’s mom, but that might be the high heels she’s wearing. His blue eyes shine with confusion. His tone isn’t angry like I expected, just confused.
“I’m…uh…” I try again, but the words aren’t coming to me. Why did I come? This was such a bad idea!
“They’re Mackenzie. Hayden’s boyfriend,” Regina says so very matter-of-factly, I almost break my neck to look at her. I freeze up again.
What? No, Regina! It isn’t true. How? Why would you think I’m his enbyfriend, boyfriend, whatever?
Like, I never said that…or…oh shit. Okay, maybe I did.
Yeah, I did say he was my boyfriend, didn’t I?
And I did tell them about him over the summer…
Shit. Okay, fine, but in my defense I also told them there wasn’t a chance in Niflhel that it would happen.
People say that all the time about their crushes.
No one believes me when I say I’m going to marry Pedro Pascal or that he’s my boyfriend.
So why now? Fine, but what do I do? What do I say?
Before I can decide, the oldest lady in the room speaks up.
“Hayden went for a handsome one.” She’s smiling from ear to ear, and now I’m blushing like a rose. Grandmother maybe?
“Right?” A short and plump, oddly familiar-looking woman with nearly midnight-black skin nods at me and grins. I swear I’ve seen her before.
“Well…I u-uh…” I keep stuttering. Dammit, Kenzie, pull it together. “Actually, I’m his enbyfriend.”
Shit! No!
“Sorry, right.” Regina nods. “I should have known that.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Easy mistake. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Enbyfriend, boyfriend, girlfriend.” His dad, Mr. Marcus, lists, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Hayden didn’t have a—”
“Person.” Ms. Familiar speaks up quickly.
Her expression morphing from stern into a smile as she looks my way again, knowingly.
And that accent! New Orleans? Maybe a Baton Rouge backstory I’d like to figure out.
Wait… The apothecary! It’s her! She works at The Good Hex.
I remember now! I go there all the time, and she’s super sweet, funny even, and now she’s here.
I can feel the color drain from my face.
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Mr. Marcus nods. “Person. Did he?”
He locks eyes with Mrs. Marcus and she frowns. “I-uh… Not that he told me.”
“He wasn’t ready to yet,” I blurt. Gods, Kenzie, why can’t you just keep your mouth shut. “He wanted to be s-sure…uh… Sure that you would approve. You know, of him…being with me.”
It’s a lie. It’s a bold-faced bona fide Grade A lie. Loki might even be proud, but what the hell am I thinking? I’m not. It’s like my mouth is running without giving the tiniest thought as to what it’s going to get me into. I’m just a helpless passenger.
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Marcus looks back at Hayden and puts a palm on his cheek. “You can date whoever you want—”
“As long as they’re not forty or a murderer,” the older blonde lady, Grandma maybe, says.
“Or a Duke fan.” The man whose arm is intertwined with hers laughs. She jabs his side, and he grunts.
For a second it breaks the pit in my stomach and allows a grin to replace the tight straight line along my lips. It’s probably safe to guess that’s his grandpa.
Mr. Marcus rolls his eyes.
“You’re the kid from the café, aren’t you?” the apothecary lady says, and I want to disappear into nothing. What is her name? I know this!
“Yes, ma’am,” I whisper.
“That’s great,” she says to me and then addresses the rest of the crowd. “They’re a sweet one. They come to the shop a lot.”
“You two know each other?” the young girl asks. It could be his sister, if he has one.
I nod now that it’s out there. Eliza! That’s her name.
“More like acquaintances.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Marcus seems bewildered. I can’t blame her. First your kid is in a coma—I think that’s what they said—and then you learn he has a supposed enbyfriend. She looks from Eliza to her husband, worry etching creases in her cheeks. “We didn’t know about, you know… Why wouldn’t he tell us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…” Mr. Marcus stumbles, “…he wasn’t ready?”
“They also saved his life,” the doctor interrupts out of nowhere.
I hadn’t noticed her enter, but she’s giving me a warm smile, so I’ll let it pass.
I use the moment to check her name tag. Dr. Melody Kline.
Okay, Melody, doctor, saved his life might be a stretch.
I should have warned him so it never even happened.
“Had they not acted so fast, the damage could have been much worse.”
It’s like Dr. Kline is trying to butter me up for Hayden’s family. Help lessen the impact and make all this new information more palatable.
“You saved his life?” Grandma tilts her head and smiles at me. “That’s good enough for me.”
“I’m sorry, I just thought… You know what? It doesn’t matter.” Mrs. Marcus steps toward me. “If Hayden loves you, then you’re family.”
Loves? That’s a bit much. We could have just started dating.
Loves? That’s much too big a step. My head feels like it’s beginning to wobble.
Breathe, Kenzie. I feel myself sinking deeper into the pit.
Which is weird, because I’ve wanted to be Hayden’s for months, but this? I wasn’t planning on this.
“It’s okay.” I squirm. What do I say to that? And a coma? The thought is racing through my head. Like an actual coma? “Thank you.”
Suddenly I’m an introvert. This is so not me.
Sure, when Hayden walks in the shop I get cold feet and my words make no sense, but that’s because it’s him.
This never happens otherwise. I can talk to anyone.
But here I am, completely at a loss for what to say.
And worse, why am I going along? It’s not true.
This is going to blow up so bad in a second.
Plus, I’m supposed to be home. I have to go.
That’s it. That’s how I get out of here.
“I gotta go.” I start stepping toward the door. “My mom’s waiting on me.”
“Can I get your number, dear?” his mom asks, and holds her phone out.
I pause.
“So I can keep you up on how he’s doing,” Mrs. Marcus says. Her head tilts and her dark brown eyes glint suspicion. Or maybe that’s just my head talking.
Should I just make an excuse and leave? No, that would be rude. Just do it. I grin nervously and accept the phone. I am in so much trouble. I take her phone and tap in my number.
“I think he’d want us to keep you in the know,” she says as I hand back the phone.
I nod and scoot backward.
“Thank you,” I say, dipping my eyes to the floor. “I really have to go now.”