Chapter 28 Playlist What Heartbreak Sounds Like
AS SOON AS WE arrive, Luke in Gregory’s arms and me explaining to the person in scrubs at the desk everything I know about what happened, they rush him back and leave us in the waiting room.
With shaking hands I try to fill out paperwork, but I don’t know Luke’s exact birthday, if he has any allergies, or what insurance his mom has.
So I have to call her. I’m calling from Luke’s phone, because I only have Kat’s number in mine—and almost lose it when I find her contact under “Mom-O.” It’s cute and endearing but also feels personal, like I peeked into a part of Luke’s private relationship with his family.
Something I wish I’d discovered under different circumstances.
I don’t know what I’ll do if this ends badly, and the gravity of telling Kat’s mom that we’ve just brought her unconscious son to the emergency room hits me when I hear her voice.
Kat’s mom has always been so cheerful and peppy that the panic in her voice is foreign to me. I tell her everything I know, somehow getting through it without crying, but I hate that I can’t answer any of her questions. She says she’s on her way.
I think about calling Kat, but decide against it.
After talking to her mom, I realize I have just enough information to scare her and not enough to assure her that things will be okay.
I don’t even know if they will be, but I don’t want to let my brain go there.
Her mom will tell her after she gets here and figures out how bad things are.
Or, maybe she’s calling her now, and Kat’s dad.
Even divorced parents put their differences aside for something like this, right?
Despite everything, I wish I could be with Kat when she finds out.
She’ll need a friend, and even though he annoyed the crap out of her, I know how much she loves her brother.
Do her new friends in Pinecrest even know she has one?
A tiny voice tells me that even if they don’t, none of them have kissed her lifelong crush either.
Guilt gnaws at me, another layer of discomfort on top of my concern for Luke.
Finally I turn away from the registration desk and approach Gregory, who’s sitting with his head bowed, knee bouncing up and down. He tossed his hat somewhere into the passenger seat during the drive, so his hair’s all disheveled. He looks up when I approach and stands.
“Did you talk to his mom?”
“Yeah. She’s coming.”
He nods and rubs a hand across the back of his head as he searches my face. He swallows, and the hand still by his side twitches, like he’s thinking about reaching for me but isn’t sure he should. His brow furrows slightly as he watches me.
My chest hurts and my arms feel like jelly. Tears burn beneath my eyelids, and I squeeze them closed. I know he’s still here with me, even if I can’t see him.
“Gregory?”
“Yeah?”
“You know how, when we were at the beach on your dad’s birthday, you said you weren’t one of those people who wants to be touched when you’re upset?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounds closer.
“Well, I am.”
And then he’s there and I’m in his arms, and I’m melting into his body, hoping he’s not one of those guys who can’t handle it when a girl cries.
He’s not, I decide, because his hold tightens, and I’m thankful he’s so tall because his chin comes to rest on my hair, and his embrace is everything I need right now.
It’s one of those generous hugs that holds nothing back, that doesn’t care how it looks but only how it feels.
I feel warm and safe, and like as long as I stand here surrounded by Gregory McLoughlin, I’ll be all right.
We’re not at the hospital, Luke’s at home playing video games, and I never betrayed my closest friend.
Not a single thing in my world is amiss.
It’s different from how I felt in Myles’s arms, and I can’t decide if it’s better. All I know is, I don’t want this feeling to stop. I’ll stand here as long as he lets me.
He doesn’t seem in a hurry to let go either, and I wind my arms all the way around his waist. One of his palms flattens out on my back, and he moves it up and down, slowly. For someone who says he doesn’t like this kind of comfort, he’s really good at giving it.
I rest my cheek against his chest, tears streaming steadily down my face.
I focus on breathing—in, out. In, out. I try not to notice how good he smells this close, or how solid his body feels, because my boy problems are nothing compared to what’s happening with Luke, but my senses are all jumbled, like my brain can’t figure out what to prioritize.
How is it possible that three months ago we’d never even met?
And that soon he’ll be thousands of miles away from me?
Eventually my tears slow and my breathing regulates, and I pull back a little. Gregory pushes hair away from my face, using his index finger to free a few strands damp with tears.
“Better?” he asks, voice low.
I sniff and nod. His brown eyes catch mine, and for a long moment we just stare at each other. Our faces have never been this close.
“Want to sit?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He resumes the seat he was in, and I settle beside him. The waiting room is otherwise empty, and a small television mounted on the wall plays a muted episode of Friends.
My anxiety creeps back up, and I tug at the frayed edges of my shorts. Gregory reaches across the armrest and takes my fidgety hand in his, threading our fingers together.
I still, then glance over at him.
“This okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. It’s okay,” I say. If the circumstances were anything other than what they are, would I find it better than okay? What if Myles was the one sitting beside me right now, holding my hand? Would I feel this same inexplicable sense of calm? “Thanks for staying with me.”
The look he gives me says he wouldn’t be anywhere else.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, shoulders touching and hands clasped together on his thigh, and then Gregory lifts his hips to slide his free hand into his pocket.
He pulls out his phone and earbuds case.
He releases my hand to open the case and fiddle with his phone, wipes the earbuds on his shirt, and hands me one while he sticks the other one into his right ear.
I take it and insert it on my left side as he takes my hand back.
Moments later “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls starts up, and I sigh and lean my head against the wall behind us, closing my eyes to let the sound wash over me.
We just listen and don’t speak for the next several minutes, and then Kat’s mom bursts through the sliding doors.
She barely makes eye contact with me before she makes a beeline toward the desk, breathlessly giving her name and asking to be taken to her son.
She’s back there for twenty minutes before she reappears.
Despite the red cheeks and puffy eyes, she seems calmer.
Gregory and I both stand and tug the single pods out of our ears. Neither of us loosens our hold on the other’s hand.
“It’s alcohol poisoning,” she says matter-of-factly. “They pumped his stomach, and now he’s getting fluids. The doctor is optimistic.”
“So he’ll be okay?” I ask.
“He’ll be okay,” she confirms. “She said it could have been a lot worse if he hadn’t been brought in when he was.” She looks at Gregory. “I’m told you drove him here…?”
“I’m Gregory,” he says. “A friend of Amelia’s.”
“Well, Gregory, thank you.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
Mrs. Barlowe turns to me, chin quivering.
“And, Amelia…” She steps forward to hug me, and I drop Gregory’s hand to return her embrace.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she says, squeezing me tight before stepping back.
“You’re already such a good friend to Kat.
The best one she’s ever had, and no matter what happened, I always knew she had you, and I could count on you to be there for her.
You’re like a second daughter to me, and now, taking care of Luke tonight?
You’re an angel, and I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for this. ”
Her words land like tiny arrows in my back.
Such a good friend to Kat.
Like a second daughter to me.
You’re an angel.
Even if it’s not the most important thing right now, I can’t help but think about what I’ve been doing with Myles and how it’s the complete opposite of what a good friend would do.
I’ve lied to Kat for the last several weeks, and broken the only real promise I’ve ever made to her.
What would Kat’s mom think about me if she knew? Would she still say those things?
Of course not, because I’m no hero. I’m a coward.
I might have brought Luke here tonight, but I don’t deserve the rest of Mrs. Barlowe’s praise.
She gives me one final hug, then shifts to pull Gregory in as well. “I need to go back in there, but I wanted to give you an update.” She checks her watch. “You two should probably head home. I’m sure Kat can keep you updated from here.”
Kat’s mom disappears through the door leading to the treatment area, and I stand there staring at the door, my emotions all over the place. Now that I know Luke’s going to be okay, my prior worry dissipates and is quickly replaced by guilt. Enormous, crushing guilt.
Kat’s supposed to be my person, and I’m supposed to be hers. The one who lived up to Mrs. Barlowe’s virtuous opinion of me. That, plus Kat’s recent apology about ignoring me all summer and the knowledge that she’s about to learn that her brother could have died tonight, is almost too much to bear.
I have to tell her the truth, and soon.
“Come on,” Gregory says. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
I walk beside him like a zombie, and once we get to the car, he pauses and turns to me. “Hey. I know that was a lot, but you heard Luke’s mom, right? He’s going to be okay.”
I nod. “Yeah, I heard her.” My voice wobbles.
We get into the car, and he queues up one of my favorite Zach Bryan songs and starts the ignition. We’re quiet the entire drive home, and when he pulls up to my house and puts the car in park, neither of us moves.
After a long moment Gregory says, “I know this might not be the best time, but I have a question.”
“Okay?”
“Is… is there something going on with you and Myles?”
I swivel my head around to look at him. He looks as weary as I feel. “What?”
“I saw you.” He drops his gaze to his lap, and then seems to force himself to meet my eyes again. “Sitting by the fire. It… it looked like you…” He trails off and sighs. Drags a hand across his mouth. “Like something was happening there. You’ve told me before there’s not, but… has that changed?”
I just look at him. I’m so full of disappointment and anger at myself and am so desperate for somewhere else to place it that I corral it, shape it into something manageable, and hurl it toward this moment—when Gregory chooses to ask me about Myles literally seconds after we almost just watched a kid die.
“Are you serious? Why do you even care about that?”
Gregory blinks. “Why do I care?”
“Yeah.” I won’t back off now. I can’t. “Why do you care if something is happening with Myles? We’re just friends, you and me.”
My words fall like grenades in the thick silence between us, and it’s like they’ve sucked every molecule of air from the car.
I don’t know what I’m doing, or why, but I know I can’t fix anything.
I’ve ruined everything with Kat, I’ll probably have to give up Myles to try to salvage my friendship with her, and I’m about to push Gregory away when I won’t even have him for much longer either.
His stare is so intense, it’s like he’s reaching into my soul. His nostrils flare, and his gaze flicks to my mouth. He leans forward imperceptibly, an unconscious sway into my space.
“Just friends?” he says hoarsely. “Is that really what you think?”
I feel his frustration like a summer squall, a low rumble of thunder and torrential rain pelting my window on a dark summer night. His disappointment is palpable.
So is his longing. It’s an arc of electricity between our bodies, lightning bursting across the sky.
No one has ever looked at me this way before. Or have they? Has he?
His words from that night at the beach echo in my brain. You really don’t see yourself the way other people do, do you?
What if I just didn’t notice before?
I’m this close to flying across the console, to crawling into his lap and asking him to hold me and tell me how to fix everything. How to have him and Myles both, and how to not break Kat’s heart.
But I can’t, so I won’t.
It’s impossible, so I don’t.
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Yes.” My voice is a scratch of rough gravel. Lies. “That’s what I think.” Then, just for good measure, I add, “And you’re leaving. So it doesn’t even matter anyway.”
He looks at me for another moment, and when he shifts his gaze away, I feel the loss immediately, like the sun disappearing behind the moon during an eclipse. He presses his lips together and nods, slowly. “Well. I guess you’re right, then. I don’t care.”
And then, in a clear signal that I should get out, he puts the car back into drive. I don’t know what to do, or what else to say. I should thank him for everything he did for me tonight, but the words won’t come. So I just grab my purse and get out, and the second I slam the door, he’s gone.
Like he can’t get away from me fast enough.