47. Chase
47
Chase
Friday
T he air was heavy, plastering me to the bed, holding me down, holding me hostage. The coughing fit that wracked my body wasn’t as violent as they had been in the beginning, a sign of healing. But if I was healing, why did I feel so broken? If I had been saved, why did I still feel gone?
The only thing that marked the passing days were the nights I heard Bailey’s sweet voice shushing a neighbor’s dog from barking, cursing at the banging of a door I’d failed to hear. Was I so out of it that I was no longer hearing what was happening around me? Was I even here?
That thought passed through my consciousness often—what if I hadn’t survived? What if my soul had already passed, and it was just my body left behind, taking space but not feeling the air? The heavy, heavy air.
I needed time to recover—I knew that—but at what point was I recovered? Maybe…just a little longer. Just another few minutes…or an hour, at least. Maybe today.
I vaguely remembered the sound of a motorcycle outside; it was loud and different from the usual sounds of ATVs or the odd tractor. It should’ve been my first warning, but it ended up being my only one.
At the dip in the bed, I opened my eyes to Lachlan’s grinning face. “Morning, sunshine. Fuck, have you ever heard of a shower?”
I closed my eyes, not ready to deal with him, then I opened them and frowned. “I showered last night.” But no, I hadn’t. Was that last night? What day was it?
“The stench coming off your pits tells me that’s a lie. How is Bailey not gagging, sleeping in the room right next to yours?”
“Fuck off,” I grumbled and rolled over to my other side.
“Nope, not happening, Chase.” Lachlan grabbed the sheet that covered me. I had thrown the blanket off a while ago, after getting too warm wrapped up in it.
I glared at my soon-to-be-former best friend. “This isn’t the time to push me or fool around.” I pulled the sheet back.
Lachlan got up on his knees and yanked the sheet, but I was already prepared and clutching it tightly. Still, he pulled so hard, he forced me to sit up. “I swear to god, if I have to see her wipe one more tear away in the morning because of you, I will murder you.”
I pulled back even harder on the sheet, almost causing him to fall forward, but he caught himself. “I told her I was fine. She’s giving me space, and you should do the same!”
“Well, I won’t!” he growled, pulling the sheet until I was forced to get on my knees, both of us now playing tug-of-war with the fabric. “You don’t get any more space! I don’t care how much you sulk about it, you’re not going to be able to shit without one of us knowing about it!”
I could feel the anger boiling inside of me. “Why?” I yelled at him.
Lachlan grinned, the only warning I got before he let go of the sheet, sending me flying backward onto the floor and knocking the wind out of me. With my feet still on the bed, and the rest of my body lying on the ground, Lachlan got off the bed and bent down so his face was in mine. “Because, punk, we fucking love you. Now, take a damn shower and come downstairs. Mom made breakfast.”
With that, he left.
I glared in his general direction because looking at him or where he left would mean having to tilt my head upside down. For some reason, though, I got up.
I wasn’t in my body as I grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the duffel bag in the corner of the room, and something about that was reassuring, because if I didn’t feel in my body, did that mean I was in my soul? My mind? Was I still here? Alive?
“Fucking love you,” I spat out as I shampooed my hair for the third time, or fourth, I was stalling. “What the fuck does that mean?” I grumbled and ranted about his words while brushing my teeth, getting dressed, then eventually heading downstairs. I was ready to rip Lachlan a new one, but the words died on my tongue.
Ethan stood beside the dining room table, setting it like Martha fucking Stewart. “Eggs?” he asked, scooping a spoonful onto a plate without waiting for my reply. He looked grim.
“You okay, Eth?” I asked.
“Don’t change the subject,” Lachlan snapped, walking into the room with pill bottles.
“I’ve been pulling extra hours at the shop to get away from my dad,” Ethan said, ignoring Lachlan. He sat down. I wanted to offer him a place to stay, only this wasn’t my place. I wanted to offer him food or help, anything, but how could I do that when I had nothing myself? I always knew I’d grown up privileged, and I didn’t know what to do without that privilege.
Ethan reached out and added three slices of bacon to my plate, as well as a scoop of hash browns. I ate—that’s how I helped Ethan. He worried about me now, so I gave him one less thing to worry about. I sat down beside him and pulled the plate across, so it was in front of me. “Did you make this?”
That got a chuckle out of him. “No, Bailey’s mom did.” I looked around, but she was nowhere to be found. “She’s out on the porch.”
I glanced at Lachlan, who was now counting pills on the table. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Are those mine?”
He held up a finger, shushing me as he counted, then he glared at me. “You haven’t taken any of these.”
I shrugged. “I used to take them, but they made me feel like crap, tired all the time.” I started eating, not wanting to admit how badly my father berated me for being so mentally weak I needed medication to sort me out.
Lachlan nodded, then shoved all but two pills into the bottle. He slid them over to me. Then he added more bacon to my plate and another heaping scoop of eggs. “You need more protein,” he said while pouring a glass of orange juice and sliding it over, “and some sugar won't hurt. The dry mouth bothered me the most, but gum helped until I adjusted. But you have to tell your fucking therapist this shit, got it? They will change shit up or adjust the dosage until we find what feels good.”
I stared at him, confused. “You… Do you take—”
“The same medication? I did. It didn’t work, so I’m on other stuff, but I know others that say it’s the shit that keeps them going. Give it time, a couple weeks at least, to get into your system. I think some are like six weeks.”
I continued eating as they both started making themselves a plate of food and joined me. “I mean, I figured football would help, if Coach hasn’t kicked me off the team,” I said. “Or maybe I can get a job, start a project.”
“Yeah, all that is fine. But remember this shit doesn’t just sort itself out. It’s a chemical imbalance.”
“What’d you say? I’m not messed up in the head, Lachy.” I ground my teeth.
“That’s not what I said. Even if you were, who the fuck cares? You are ours, one of us.”
“Stop talking like that.”
“Chase,” Ethan snapped. “That’s not what he’s saying. You are family, one of us. Bailey, Lach, Nolan, me, and you. Take your pills and get better.”
“ Feel better,” Lachlan said, amending Ethan’s command. “You don’t need to get better at anything. If the best you can manage is a shower and breakfast, then so be it, but give the medication a chance to help you feel better.”
I pushed the food around my plate with my fork before taking another bite, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “Lach, I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
“I just…” There was nothing else to say. Not now.
“I know.” At his tone of understanding, I took the pills and swallowed them with one gulp of orange juice. “We have your back, Chase. We aren’t your dad. We didn’t jump into that pool for him—we did it for you.”
We finished the rest of our breakfast while talking about the game tonight. I felt terrible that I had completely forgotten about talking to Bailey last night.
After we finished, I helped clean up, then followed the guys out. We were getting our shoes on when Lachlan pinned me with a look. “You’ll be at the game tonight?”
“Coach will bench me. He doesn’t let players on if they haven’t been to practice.”
“And?” Ethan said. “You come to support the team.”
“She’ll be waiting for you, in the tunnel,” Lachlan said.
What? How did he—
“She told me that she has a hard time going on the field, and she’s not sure she can do it if you’re not there. You better be there. I think you’ve turned into her lucky charm.”