45. Chapter 45
Chapter 45
LANE
The second my father appears in the waiting room, I’m on him. “How is he?” I blurt, knowing he saw him.
He barely looks me in the eye as he mumbles, “Not great.” He swallows while my stomach drops to my knees. “He had quite the hit to the head when he hit the ground, but his concussion is mild. It’s his back that’s the problem,” he chokes out.
“His back?” I straighten, chest tight.
He nods, staring in the direction of the elevators, like he can’t get away from me fast enough. “He fractured his T2. He’s able to walk, but it will limit him and likely hurt like a bitch until it heals.”
His back.
Tears prick my eyes as I think about how much pain he must be in on top of the betrayal I handed him, and when my father starts to move past me, I grip his arm, stopping him. “What about football?”
My father bows his head and shakes his head. “He’s finished.”
I drop my hand from his arm, too numb to stop his retreat as strides away from me.
Everything that happened today is my fault.
It’s my fault Teagan was distracted. I could tell the moment he stepped onto the football field, he wasn’t himself.
It’s my fault he’s lying in a hospital bed.
It’s my fault his heart is hurting.
And it’s my fault he’ll never play football again.
My fault. It’s all I can focus on as when I note a nurse headed toward the hallway and rush to stop her.
“Can I see Teagan Nichols?” I ask. “I don’t know what room he’s in, but—”
“The football injury?” the nurse asks, her tone soft.
“Yeah.” I swallow.
“I was just headed there. Visiting hours are over for tonight, but I can ask if he’s up to one more. And you are?”
Oh God, what if he doesn’t want to see me?
“Lane Turner,” I say, my voice feeble.
“I’ll see what I can do.” My hopes plummet the further she gets down the hall. The thought of going home without laying eyes on him and telling him how fucking sorry I am is unthinkable. If I could go back and redo things, I would. I’d tell him everything from the beginning. But I can’t, and so I’ll do anything to make things right, no matter how long it takes.
When I spot the nurse returning, I hurry toward her, meeting her halfway as she glances at me with sympathy in her eyes, and I know.
He doesn’t want to see me.
The knowledge shouldn’t surprise me, but it hits me in the chest all the same.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse starts, her gaze soft.
I nod, unable to speak through the lump in my throat.
“He went through quite the ordeal. He’s probably just tired,” she says.
“Yeah,” I murmur, even though I know better. Teagan isn’t just tired; it’s personal, and I can’t say I blame him.
I stay in the waiting room until dusk falls and night settles over the city like a heavy cloak. I can’t go home until I see him, and yet I know at some point I might have to. There’s a real possibility Teagan and I are finished. Done.
He might never want to speak to me again.
You lied straight to my face when I asked if you and Chance were ever together.
I hang my head in my hands, willing the sharpness of the memories to fade and hating myself a little more when they don’t.
I’d been so scared of what the truth might do to my family, I never stopped for one second to think of what it would do to me.
And now it’s too late.
A sob rips through the back of my throat. Tears drip down my cheeks.
Because of me, Teagan is lying in a hospital bed alone, hurt and heartbroken.
I destroyed everything.
I wallow in my grief a little more, replaying the entire scene over and over again in my head.
I’d come to talk to my father to voice my suspicions about Chance. Little did I know they’d already beaten me there.
I remember the smug look on Chance’s face, the agony in Teagan’s eyes.
There’s a special kind of pain in knowing you were the one to break the heart of the person you love. It’s a special kind of torture with no escape route.
The knowledge of it wraps around you, squeezing like a boa constrictor, and stealing the air from your lungs. But instead of dying, I’m here, living with the pain of it instead.
The hours pass slowly. It’s around three a.m. when a middle-aged couple hustles into the waiting room, heading directly for the nurses’ station, and I wonder if it could be Teagan’s parents. If I look close enough, there’s a resemblance there. But then, maybe I’m seeing things.
Regardless, I feel a pang of longing for the woman as I hear her prattle on in a hushed tone, clearly worried as her husband takes her hand and sits beside her.
Sometime after six a.m., I nod off, but I’m awakened with a jolt at the scent of coffee and commotion a few rows down.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and blink to find it coming from the vicinity of the couple, and when I finally focus on them, I see the source. A young woman close to my age is pulling each of them into a long hug, a tray of coffees clutched in her hand.
A minute later, she releases them. When she sits our eyes meet, and I gasp.
Even through the haze of sleep, I can see the striking resemblance. She doesn’t just look like Teagan. She is Teagan, only a feminine version of him, same blue eyes and all. She has the same honey blonde waves as Teagan, and they share the same straight smile. Same cheekbones. Same nose shape even though hers is smaller with a slightly more feminine slope. Even their mannerisms are similar, letting me know exactly who I’m looking at: Brynn, Teagan’s twin.
She holds my gaze for what feels like an eternity before I finally glance away, self-conscious under the scrutiny. I have no idea if he’s told his parents about me, but I’m absolutely certain, based on the way she stared at me just now, she somehow knows who I am.
I slump down in my chair at the same time she starts toward me.
Oh, God. I cover my face with my hand as if I can shield myself from her line of vision.
My heart races as I stare straight ahead, praying she doesn’t come up to me and introduce herself.
She probably has no idea it’s my fault Teagan’s here, but she will soon enough, and I can’t bear the thought of what his family will think of me then.
My hands turn clammy. Sweat pricks my brow as I take shallow breaths.
She’s only a few feet from me when the nurse intercepts her. I can’t hear what she’s saying but whatever it is must be good news because Brynn’s face splits into a wide smile and she’s waving her parents over. Together, the three of them, with the nurse at the helm, head for the hallway and I know they’ll get a visit.
Jealousy stabs my chest before it occurs to me Brynn might mention to him that she saw me and what his reaction might be.
Bile rises to the back of my throat.
If I’m not gone when they come out, I’m not sure I have the strength to face them.
An hour later, I get a text from my mother asking when I’m coming back home. It’s the second one in three hours, and I know I can’t stay any longer.
If I were any other college student, staying would mean some missed classes and nothing more. But I’m not. I have Sophie to consider, and she’s been with my mother since early yesterday afternoon when I left for the game. Even if my mother didn’t have a job, it would be wholly unfair to ask her to keep Sophie any longer.
Motherhood doesn’t wait because life throws you a right hook.
Instead, you’re forced to roll with the punches and go through the motions, even when everything around you is falling to pieces.
Even with a broken heart.