Chapter 16 Lexi #2
Thea opens the bedroom door.
Axel is on the bed. Passed out. Head lolling to the side.
Immediately, I’m seeing Mom. Her head on the couch. Her eyes half-open. Her chest barely rising.
“Axel!” I shout, reaching for him.
I start slapping his cheek. No reaction.
“Fuck! Thea! How long has he been like this!”
Tears blur my vision as I grab him, try to sit him up. His body is dead weight.
“Axel! Wake up! Thea!”
I’m trembling. Shaking so hard I can barely hold him.
“Call an ambulance!”
Thea crosses her arms. “I can’t fucking call an ambulance. We’re all going to get busted.”
I glare at her through my tears. “Are you fucking serious? He’s not responding!”
“Check his pulse. He’s alive, just knocked out.”
“What the fuck’s wrong with you!” I cry. “Help me carry him. Grab his legs.”
I take most of his weight, holding him under his arms. She grabs his legs reluctantly.
We carry him out of the room. Getting him down the stairs is a nightmare. Thea can’t keep her balance, stumbling on every step.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask.
“This is why I didn’t invite you!” she snaps. Jesus Christ, she’s in a mood.
“What are you talking about!”
“You’re like my fucking mom, Lexi!” she shouts. “And it’s so exhausting to be around!”
The words hit me like a slap.
“Well, I’m sorry that I care about you!” I shout back. “And I don’t ever control you. I just think drugs are dumb! Look at my fucking brother right now. I’m freaking out.”
We’re stopped on the stairs. The music blares around us. People stare.
“Were you here with him?” I ask quietly.
“What?”
“You were, weren’t you? Are you high right now?”
“No.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” I’m struggling to hold Axel up. “Tell me the truth.”
“Fine!” She drops his ankles. “You want to know the truth? I’ve been fucking your brother all summer. We do coke together and sometimes pills. Happy?”
More tears stream down my face. “No. No, I’m not happy because you’re my best friend and you were doing this behind my back?”
“I’m not a fucking saint like you!”
“I can’t even look at you,” I mutter.
I continue dragging him down the stairs alone. I didn’t think I had the strength, but I’m fucking livid. That anger helps me pull him through the party, outside, onto the sidewalk.
My phone buzzes. Again and again.
I pull it out. Koa’s calling.
“Where the fuck are you?” he snaps.
I start crying. “Axel might be overdosing. Please come.”
The pain in my chest unleashes through tears. The fear fills me to the brim.
“Hurry,” I whisper.
I drop him a pin and sit on the curb, waiting. Checking Axel’s pulse every few seconds. It’s there. Faint but there.
Koa pulls up, and I’ve never been more relieved to see anyone in my life.
He doesn’t ask questions. Just gets out, grabs Axel off the sidewalk like he weighs nothing, and puts him in the back seat.
I climb in beside my brother, pressing my fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. It’s there. Faint. Too faint.
“Are we going to the hospital?” I ask, voice shaking.
Koa pulls away from the curb, but instead of heading toward the main road, he turns down a side street. Away from the party. Away from the noise and the crowds and the people who might see.
He parks around the block under a broken streetlight.
“What are you doing?” Panic rises in my throat. “We need to go—”
“I need to check him first.”
He gets out, opens the back door, and starts moving with a precision that looks almost bored. Like this is routine.
He rolls Axel onto his side, props him with his jacket. Pulls out his phone, turns on the flashlight, and checks his pupils. Pries open his mouth, makes sure nothing’s blocking his airway.
“Hand me that water bottle,” he says, nodding toward the cup holder.
I grab it with shaking hands and pass it to him.
He unscrews the cap, pours cold water on the back of Axel’s neck. Axel twitches but doesn’t wake.
Koa leans close, talks in a low, steady cadence. “Axel. Can you hear me? Axel.”
Nothing.
He checks his pulse again, counts silently, then sits back.
“He’s going to need the hospital,” Koa says, voice flat. “They need to pump his stomach.”
“What?” My voice cracks. “No, we can’t—the cops will—”
“He took pills,” Koa interrupts, looking at me. “You want to save him, or you want to save yourself from embarrassment?”
Tears blur my vision. “I—I don’t—”
“I’ve seen this a dozen times, Lexi.” His voice is calm. Like he’s talking about the weather. “If you want him to live, he needs the hospital. Right now.”
I press my hands to my face, sobbing. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.”
He closes the back door, gets in the driver’s seat, and floors it.
The drive to the hospital is a blur.
Koa drives like a maniac—running red lights, weaving through traffic, ignoring speed limits. I’m in the back seat with Axel’s head in my lap, stroking his hair, trying to keep him on his side like Koa told me to.
Tears keep rolling down my face. I can’t stop them.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Axel. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve—I should’ve done more. I should’ve—”
My voice breaks.
I’m apologizing to him. To myself. To Mom. To a God I don’t believe in.
Please don’t take him. Please. I can’t lose him too.
Koa’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror. He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps driving.
We screech into the emergency entrance. Koa barely puts the car in park before he’s out, hauling Axel out of the back seat.
“Help!” I scream as we burst through the automatic doors. “Please, he took pills—he’s not responding—”
Nurses swarm immediately. Someone brings a stretcher. They load Axel onto it, start asking questions I can barely hear over the ringing in my ears.
“How many pills?”
“What kind?”
“When did he take them?”
“I don’t know,” I sob. “I don’t know. Six, maybe? He texted someone—I don’t know what kind—”
Koa steps forward. His voice is steady. “Probably oxy. Maybe fentanyl-laced. He’s been out for at least twenty minutes.”
The nurse nods, scribbles on her clipboard, and they wheel Axel away.
I try to follow, but someone stops me. “You can’t go back there. You’ll have to wait.”
“But he’s my brother—”
“We’ll update you as soon as we can. Please, have a seat in the waiting room.”
They disappear through double doors, taking Axel with them.
I stand there, frozen, staring at the doors as they swing shut.
A TV in the corner plays some late-night talk show with the volume too low to hear. There are a few other people scattered around—a woman with a crying baby, an old man holding an ice pack to his head, a couple sitting in tense silence.
I collapse into a plastic chair, elbows on my knees, face in my hands.
The tears won’t stop.
I can’t lose him. I can’t. Not like Mom. Not like this.
Koa sits down beside me. Not touching. Just... there.
Minutes pass. Maybe hours. I don’t know.
My shoulders shake with silent sobs. My chest feels like it’s caving in.
And then, without thinking, I lean into him.
Just a little. Just enough that my shoulder presses against his arm.
He doesn’t move away. Doesn’t say anything.
He just lets me.
After a moment, his hand settles on my back. Heavy. Warm. Grounding.
“He’s going to be okay,” Koa says quietly.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
I turn my head to look at him. His face is unreadable in the harsh waiting room light. But there’s something in his eyes—not softness, exactly. But certainty.
“He’s tough,” Koa says.
“He’s an idiot.”
“Yeah. But he’s alive. Trust me.”
I close my eyes, lean my head against his shoulder. He doesn’t pull away. Just sits there, solid and steady, while I fall apart.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Don’t.”
“I mean it. If you hadn’t come—”
“Stop.”
We sit in silence. His hand stays on my back, moving in slow circles that I’m not sure he’s even aware of.
Eventually, a doctor comes out. Young, exhausted-looking, still in scrubs.
“Family of Axel Kane?”
I shoot to my feet. “That’s me. I’m his sister.”
“He’s stable. We pumped his stomach. He’s going to be very sick for a while, but he’ll recover.”
Relief crashes over me so hard my knees nearly buckle. “Can I see him?”
“He’s sedated right now. We’re going to keep him overnight for observation. You can see him in about an hour once we get him moved to a room.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The doctor nods and walks away.
I sink back into the chair, hands covering my face. “Oh my god.”
Koa stands. “I’m going to get coffee. You want anything?”
“No, thank you.”
He walks away, and I’m alone with the buzzing lights and the smell of the hospital.
But I’m not crying anymore.
Axel’s alive.
He’s going to be okay.
And Koa was there when I needed him.
That means something.
It means everything.