Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
William pulls into the hospital parking lot, only breaking our clasped hands to shift gears.
My mind is a kaleidoscope of doom and dead ends.
Is Mo going to be okay? Dad said the driver was some guy from school.
If I had been home when I was supposed to be, this wouldn’t have happened.
Did she call him the minute she got home and realized I wasn’t there?
Or did she ditch her friends at the fair and leave with him instead?
Will parks and jumps out. Before I can snap out of my spiral and join him, he’s lifting me out and setting me gently on the ground. Adrenaline spurs me to action, and I take off for the entrance.
William matches my stride. I’m grateful for his steady presence and that he’s not trying to reassure me, because neither of us know if Morgan’s going to be okay yet.
The glass doors slide open, and William hurries to the check-in desk, where an older man with red suspenders, thinning white hair, and a nametag that reads “EARL” is talking to another visitor.
“We’re here to see Morgan Hannah,” William says as soon as the other visitor shuffles off, his voice tense. “She was in a car accident. She’s in surgery now.”
Earl slips his bifocals up and immediately starts tapping at his keyboard. “Go ahead and sign in, and I’ll look her up for you.”
The pen feels foreign in my fingers as I scratch out my name. When I search the wall for a clock so I can enter the time, I’m shocked that it’s past seven.
I don’t see Theo’s name but maybe he’s not here yet. Or he came with Dad. He was supposed to go camping with Maren tonight, but maybe Dad caught him before they left.
“She’s on floor three. General surgery. There’s a family waiting area just inside the entrance,” Earl says, handing us each a visitor badge.
“Thank you,” I say over my shoulder.
Inside the elevator, William peels off the first guest badge and presses it to my shirt, then adds the other one to his. There are blackberry stains on his cheek and arm, but his lips are pale, as if I sucked the berry juice right off of them. Like some kind of vampire.
Shame burns my cheeks, and I turn away. God, I’m so stupid. How could I be so reckless? So indulgent . Because of me, Morgan’s been hurt.
This is my fault. My fault. My fault.
The elevator doors slide open, and I follow the signs to the surgery waiting area. When I burst inside, Dad and Theo are on the far side of the room. Theo’s making two cups of coffee at a self-serve station and Dad is pacing, talking into his cell phone.
Theo’s serious eyes lock with mine. I dive into his arms. To my relief, he hugs me tight.
“What’s happening?” My voice is muffled inside his embrace.
He rubs my back. I feel William’s presence behind me, but I’m too freaked out to worry about what look Theo might be giving him. “One of her lungs collapsed. They think the bleeding is from her spleen. Minor concussion, but no spinal cord damage, thank god.”
His tense words rattle my bones like little earthquakes. “Is she going to be okay?”
Before he can answer, Dad pulls me into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Dad,” I say into his dress shirt. He smells faintly of soap, with that familiar hint of the club embedded in the cotton.
“Not your fault, pumpkin.”
The endearment brings hot tears to my eyes. “If I would have been home on time.”
He rubs my back. “We still don’t know what happened.” Even through his soft tone, I taste the undercurrent of anger. At me? And fear. It’s no secret he worries. What if Morgan doesn’t make it? No, don’t think like that.
Behind us, William and Theo are silent. Anxiety chews through my insides as I push back from Dad.
They’re not looking at each other. William’s fists are tight at his sides and Theo is stirring his coffee, his jaw tense.
“Thanks for being here, Will,” Dad says, offering his hand.
“Of course,” William replies as they shake. “Can I do anything for you guys? Zach texted me. He and Sofie are ready to help, too.”
“Thanks,” Dad says just as a woman in blue scrubs and a white coat slips into the room.
I wake in the chair next to Morgan’s bed and squint at the clock on her monitor. It’s just after four a.m.. My arm must have fallen asleep because it tingles something painful when I shift to sitting.
Dad wanted William to take me home, but I refused, even though it’s unlikely Mo will wake up until tomorrow.
Dad left at two to close up the club, then returned and is currently slumped in the recliner chair on the other side of Morgan, his whiskered face slack in sleep, a blanket thrown over his shoulders.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye to William or Theo.
I should feel uneasy about that look between them, but I’m too trapped in my own thoughts.
The doctors assured us that Mo’s going to make a full recovery.
They were able to fix the tear in her spleen, and inflate her lung.
She’ll have a chest tube for a few days.
After that, she’ll be able to go home. She opened her eyes a few times as they moved her into this room, but she was too groggy for conversation.
I held her hand for a while, but she didn’t stir.
Just looking at her hurts. The tubes and wires and the faded gown they dressed her in and the bleached white blankets look so foreign, like the ingredients to a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
The doctors also said Morgan had alcohol in her system as well as a drug called Ativan.
I looked it up. It’s some kind of anti-anxiety medication, available only by prescription, which Mo doesn’t have.
Dad’s face went stony. It was like watching the weight of the world crash down on his shoulders.
Where did Mo get this drug? Didn’t she know how dangerous it is mixed with whatever she and Tony drank?
Tony got off with only two broken fingers, though he’s in trouble with the police. He’s a Finn River dropout but I don’t remember him. Apparently, he used to be on the football team. Before he quit school and became a loser who drives while intoxicated.
He could have killed my sister.
A nurse comes in and does something with the chest tube. Morgan’s face flinches like she’s hurting, but she doesn’t wake up. Then the nurse leaves, and the cold, dark room is quiet again.
I must doze off because a hand on my shoulder wakes me. It’s William, pulling up my blanket.
“Hey,” he says, his indigo eyes bloodshot from exhaustion and worry. He’s showered and changed and smells so good and fresh compared to this hospital room that I want to dive into his arms and stay there.
“Hi,” I manage. Dad’s recliner is empty and there’s light spilling into the room from beneath the window shade.
“How’s she doing?” he asks, perching on the corner of Mo’s bed.
I sit up and exhale a slow breath. “She’s going to be okay.”
Relief eases the tension in his features. “I’m so glad to hear that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Zach said Tony Hoffman is going to be charged today. His dad is making all kinds of noise. Says it was Morgan’s fault. ”
Hot anger prickles my neck, but I shake my head. It doesn’t matter.
“Sofie made a bunch of food in case anyone was hungry,” William says. “Your dad’s out in the entryway talking on the phone. Do you want me to get coffee or some tea or something for you guys?”
It’s surprisingly difficult to accept, but he looks so eager, and my throat is killing me. “Tea sounds good,” I say. “Dad would probably love coffee.”
William rocks to his feet and leans over me, planting a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Be right back.”
I breathe in a hint of his scent. He slips from the room.
Morgan stirs. I stand up and reach for her hand. “Hey, Mo Mo.”
Her focus is glazed, but she frowns. “I’m not dead, huh.”
Leave it to Mo to try to make this light. “You might feel like it for a while.”
“No shit,” she says, taking in the tubes and wires while working her chapped lips. “Hurts.”
I’ll ask the nurse if she can have more painkillers. Though maybe they’re being careful. “The good news is you’re going to be okay.”
“Yeah, I think someone said that.” She closes her eyes, like she needs a mini nap after talking.
“Are you hungry?” Whatever food Sofie packed must still be warm because there’s a sweet scent coming from the grocery bag William placed on the side table.
Morgan looks away.
“Can I do anything for you?” I glance at the TV stuck to the wall above the door. “You want to watch something?”
“Maybe later.”
An awkward silence festers between us. “I’m sorry, Mo,” I say to fill it.
She shakes her head, but refuses to look at me. “I’m such a fuckup.”
I squeeze her hand. “You are not. ”
“Nothing feels right, Charlie. I don’t…feel right.
I never have. I try to do things the way…
everyone else does…but I just fuck it up.
” She swallows but it looks painful. I reach for the cup of water on the side table and hold the straw for her to drink.
After she gulps a sip, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, wincing at the pain from moving.
She slumps back into the pillows. “I tried to have a good time at the fair, like everyone else, but…” A tear trickles down her cheek.
“I couldn’t stand it. I ditched my friends, Charlie.
Who does that? I let that guy sleep with me.
I don’t even like him.” She shakes her head, closing her eyes, like she can’t bear to look at me.
“I knew it was wrong, but I just…wanted to feel something…else.”
My heart cracks. What do I say to such raw vulnerability? I want to reassure her, but all the words I reach for sound hollow in my already frazzled mind. So I cradle her hand in mine. “That sounds awful, Mo. And…hard to share.” Has she always felt this way? It must be agony.
“Sometimes I feel like it’d be better for everyone if I wasn’t around,” she whispers, swiping at her cheek.