Chapter 32
Evie
Ican’t believe this is happening. I’ve seen firsthand what can happen to the elderly after a bad fall.
First, a significant loss of mobility. Then rapid physical decline.
Sometimes, a total loss of independence.
I fall down the rabbit hole while I wait for Brandon to bring me a cup of coffee, worrying about what something like this could cost Grandma.
She was fortunate not to have broken any bones last time, but I can’t say the same this time around.
Brandon’s shoes appear on the waxed tile floor. “Here,” he murmurs, extending a cup of coffee as I sit up. “It’s decaf. I hope you don’t mind.”
Shaking my head, I take it eagerly and cradle it close to my body, savoring its warmth. He sits down beside me, and we’re silent for a while, waiting to hear from the nurses for more information.
“Why would God allow that to happen?” I wonder after a while, looking over at him.
Brandon draws in a long breath, his chest expanding and retracting as he mulls over his response. “Maybe you shouldn’t look at it that way.”
“How else should I look at it?”
He sighs. “Well, I don’t think it was a coincidence that you found your diary and stormed off when you did. You wouldn’t have been home at that time if you hadn’t. Who knows how long Maggie would have been waiting otherwise.”
The idea of Grandma waiting there for hours, in complete agony, makes me sick to my stomach. I had never even considered that as a possibility.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hanging my head as I’m choked up with regret. “This afternoon—”
“We’ll talk about it later,” he whispers back, reaching out to squeeze my hand.
“Let’s just get through this evening.” He wraps his arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder, grateful he’s being so gracious with me.
When he kisses my temple, I close my eyes.
I’m so exhausted. “It’s going to be okay, Spitfire. I promise.”
He can’t know that. I swallow, staring at a tile. “This is all my fault.”
His arm tightens around me. “Don’t do that. You’re not responsible for this.”
Before I can reply, Jamie appears at the end of the hall. Unsurprisingly, Brandon’s arm disappears from my shoulders. His reluctance to be seen with me . . . it still hurts.
We rise in unison.
“How is she?” I ask as Jamie approaches. Hot coffee spills onto my hand, burning it. Glancing down, I realize the cup is vibrating. My hand is shaking. Brandon notices, too. The comfort of his embrace returns.
Jamie scratches the back of his neck. “Not great, honestly. She’s got a broken hip and a fractured femur. And she’s in a lot of pain, as you can imagine.”
Brandon’s arm supports me as I sag.
“They’re prepping her for surgery as we speak.” Jamie’s gaze swings from me to Brandon, then falls to observe Brandon’s arm wound tightly around my waist. I can see the curiosity burning in his eyes, but he doesn’t comment on it. “If you want to see her, you’ll have to go now.”
Discarding my coffee in the nearest trash can, we follow him down the hall.
Emotion clogs my throat when I see her. She’s out of it, looking half dazed and completely unlike herself.
Brandon pulls a chair up next to the bed for me.
I sit down and take her hand in mine. Her long, manicured fingers fold over mine, squeezing down with the faintest of pressure.
That gentle, reassuring gesture does me in.
The pressure building behind my eyes is too much to bear, and I succumb to the tears. Once the floodgates let loose, I let out wet, ugly, loud sobs, wiping the snot away as I bow my head over our clasped hands. “Grandma. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” she rasps. “I’m so sorry.”
I lift my head. “I’m the one who should be sorry.
” She wouldn’t even be living at home if not for me.
Maybe she should have taken that assisted living apartment that became available recently, like Dad suggested.
But we’ve both been stubborn, living in la-la land together, our heads buried in the sand.
Now, her life might never be the same. And it really is all my fault.
“Ma’am?” the nurse prompts. Brandon rests his hands on my shoulders. “We’re ready for her.” Some more words are exchanged, and then Brandon guides me back down the hall, where we wait with Jamie in a drab, drafty waiting area while Dad and Francine make their way to the hospital.
Brandon doesn’t let go of me the entire time we’re waiting, and it’s nice. But unnecessary. He probably thinks I’m one loose screw away from totally losing it. Maybe I am. Who knows. I guess if anybody would, it would be him.
When my parents finally arrive, I wander down the hall as Jamie catches them up to speed. It figures they’d come rushing to the hospital in the freezing rain for Grandma, but they won’t brave a little bit of snow to visit me in the ER after a near-fatal car accident. Par for the course.
Brandon appears before me, lifting my chin with his finger. “Don’t argue with him,” he instructs. “No matter how much you want to.”
“Wha—?”
“Evie.” Dad’s voice is deep and calm, and it’s right behind me.
Frowning, I face him. “What?” I just know he’s going to blame me for this, but I already know it’s my fault. He doesn’t need to rub salt in the wound.
But he will.
“Go home. We’re going to wait here until Grandma’s done with surgery. Presumably, they’ll discharge her at some point in the next several days, and then she’ll come home with us.”
Normally, I would argue with him. I would tell him that Grandma should decide her own fate—not have her future dictated to her by someone else. But I don’t have it in me right now.
Besides, we all know that’s what’s for the best.
“Okay.”
Dad looks surprised by my amenability. “Okay then.” He hesitates before adding, “And you’ll move in with us, too, I’m assuming.”
My eyes bulge. “Um—”
“Just until you’re back on your feet,” he interjects decisively, nodding to himself like it’s a done deal. He turns to my brother, as if he thinks this conversation is over.
It is not.
“I am not living with you.”
Dad sighs and turns back to me. “You’ll want to do Grandma’s physical therapy, right?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Then it makes the most sense that you live with us, too. Now go home, Genevieve.”
Miffed, I gawk at my father. The audacity—
“Come on,” Brandon says, looping his arm through mine. “You’re tired.”
“Um, hold on.” I dig my heels in, but he drags me away against my will.
This conversation is far from over.
Jamie follows us to the doors. “You sure you’re okay, sis?” he wonders, eyeing me warily.
“Jamie, please,” I scoff, dismissing him. We don’t do the whole talking-about-our-feelings-thing.
“Just making sure you’re not gonna go off the deep end about this,” he says with a flippant shrug. “We all know you can be a little melodramatic.”
Brandon chuckles under his breath, and I shoot him a death glare.
When we reach the exit, Jamie pulls me in for a fierce, bone-crushing hug that hurts as much as it heals. “Hey,” he begins, his voice low and comforting in my ear. “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo. Alright? Grandma’s gonna be fine. Don’t lose sleep over this.”
I cling to him, feeling so safe and reassured in his arms that I almost believe him. “Yeah, right.”
He squeezes me hard, and it hurts my back, but I don’t say anything. “I mean it.” He pulls back and flicks one of my earlobes. “You better be well rested when I pick you up tomorrow.”
I grimace. “Unlikely.”
“Cast all that fear and anxiety on the Lord, sis,” he instructs as he reaches out to slap Brandon on the shoulder. “Get her home safe, bro.”
***
Back at Grandma’s house, Brandon follows me inside and sets a pot of coffee to brew.
I think he was nervous to leave me alone, and I don’t blame him.
Honestly, I’m relieved he wanted to stay.
I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts in this big empty house, knowing Grandma is in the hospital right now.
Because of me.
“Are you hungry?”
I sit down at the breakfast nook and gaze out the dark window, watching the rain slide down the glass. “Not really.”
“You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” he says. “I’ll make you some grilled cheese and tomato soup. Is that still your favorite?”
My lips pull up into a half-baked smile.
“Yeah.” That was like the only thing I requested for dinner whenever he, Jamie, or Dana had to babysit me.
They were all too happy to oblige; it was probably the easiest meal for a college kid to make.
Fortunately, Brandon is a far better cook than he used to be.
As for Jamie . . . well, he’s lucky he has Rebecka.
I lower my chin into my hand as I watch him work.
“Thanks for staying,” I say a little while later, when he’s sliding my grilled cheese onto a plate.
He retrieves the bowl of soup from the microwave and sets both dishes down in front of me before taking the seat across from me.
“About this afternoon . . .” I begin, blushing as I swirl my spoon around the soup. “I’m sorry.”
Jamie was right. I can be a little melodramatic sometimes.
Brandon shrugs one shoulder. “There were a lot of factors at play.”
I nod reluctantly, still swirling my spoon around my soup.
He leans forward, attempting to catch my eye. “Hey.” I look up. “I forgive you.”
Biting my lip, I nod again. “Thank you.”
Feeling self-conscious under his gaze, I keep checking the sides of my mouth for crumbs while I eat. Apparently, I was hungrier than I thought because I clean the dishes in record time. I even drink the vestiges of the soup.
“I feel better now,” I say as I set the bowl down and lick my lips. “I think I was tired and hangry this afternoon.”
He chuckles softly, then clears the table. “Are you ready for bed?”
I could sleep for days, but I’m not ready for him to leave just yet. Apart from my apology, we haven’t spoken about anything that was said in the heat of the moment. I have more to apologize for than my behavior.
Rising from my seat, I approach him as he closes the dishwasher. When he turns around and sees me standing behind him, he startles. “Brandon, look—”
He lifts a hand. “Evie, you’re tired and unwell. We can discuss it later.”
“I know, but I want to discuss it now,” I insist. “I said some awful things. And I shoved you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He chuckles like my apology is comical, then shakes his head. “Frankly, I deserved it.”
I frown. He’s always going on about how he deserves things. It’s almost like he believes he should be punished for his mistakes. “No, you didn’t. I was way out of line. And it was completely unprofessional—”
He presses a finger against my lips. I swear, the air charges with static the second his skin touches mine. Goosebumps form on the back of my neck. “Can I get you anything else before I go?” His eyes search mine, then fall to my lips. “A drink? Some medicine?”
I glance down at his finger, which is still pressed firmly against my mouth. “I can get those things myself, Brandon,” I mumble against his finger.
He nods and drops his hand, shifting his attention to the door. “I guess I should—”
“You said you loved me,” I blurt. “Last night. And this afternoon. Is that true?”
His blue eyes frost over. “I won’t dignify that with a response.”
“But what do you mean by that?” I press. “There are many ways a man can love a woman.”
“I am deeply in love with you, Genevieve,” he practically growls. “And I have been for a very, very long time. When will you learn that?” He taps my temple affectionately. “I don’t know how else to get that through that thick little head of yours.”
My heart expands inside my chest, growing three sizes bigger, like I’ve finally discovered the true meaning of Christmas. “How long have you felt this way?”
“From the first time I told you,” he answers with the utmost conviction. My mind circles back to that night on his couch, when he confided I was the reason he became a psychiatrist.
That’s when he knew he was in love with me?
My world stops spinning. All this time, I thought—
“Even before I told you,” he continues softly, gazing at me. “I knew.”
“When?” I whisper breathlessly. “When did you know?”
He hesitates, then swallows noisily. “I knew I was in trouble the first time I read that letter you wrote to me. And then, that night you got Teddy to go to sleep when he was having reflux—that’s when I knew for sure.”
My eyes widen in wonder. He’s known for that long? That was well before our first kiss. While both relieving and exciting, this revelation opens up a whole new can of worms for me. If he’s been in love with me all this time, then . . .
Where was he when I needed him the most?
My elation washes away like water down a drain. “This doesn’t make any sense.” I step back, putting distance between us while I mull it over.
“Evie,” he murmurs, wiping a hand down his shirt as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “There’s so much to unpack here, and you’re tired—”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I demand, point blank.
“Evie—”
“Brandon! Whatever it is, just say it. I can handle it.”
He clutches fistfuls of his hair and turns away, then abruptly turns back. “Evie, I—I love you, yes, but sleeping together was a mistake.”
His admission feels like a stake to the heart. He regrets that night?
“It was wrong. Everything about it. And at the time, I knew that a relationship wouldn’t work.
You were too young, and I was new in my faith, and we weren’t on the same page.
Not to mention Jamie—” He pauses, sighing deeply to himself as I struggle to piece the puzzle together.
“I was trying to turn my life around, and”—his eyes clench shut—“I needed to stop seeing you. For my own sake. When you assumed you were just another hookup for me, I didn’t bother correcting you.
I thought it would be easier that way. A clean break. ”
Heart pounding, I see red when it finally makes sense. When I see how, in his twisted, heartless way, he somehow rationalized making me question everything I thought I knew about him.
He gaslit me. He gaslit me into believing he never loved me.
Not only did the way he ghosted me make me question his very character and love for me, but he nearly destroyed my self-worth in the process.
For the longest time, I thought he had used me, then tossed me aside like a sack of garbage.
I thought he didn’t care about me, and it nearly killed me.
But it turns out that he’s been in love with me all along.
He just didn’t want to be with me.
I’m not sure which is worse.
“Evie—”
Before he can get another word in, I lift my hand to slap him.