CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Two nights later, Bee sat in the passenger seat of Wes's truck while he drove toward Grandma's house. Music filled the cab, though no song lasted long enough to reach the second verse. Wes kept using the controls on the steering wheel to skip everything Bee chose.
“You cannot skip every song I pick and then tell me I have terrible taste,” Bee said.
Wes glanced at her before returning his attention to the road. “I'm not skipping them because they're bad. I'm skipping them because you keep choosing the same three songs.”
“That is a lie,” Bee replied.
“That last one already played twice,” Wes said.
Bee reached toward the radio and selected it again. “Because it's good.”
Wes skipped it before the first line finished. “Because you're obsessed with it.”
Bee stared at him. “Give me the radio.”
“You've lost radio privileges,” Wes replied.
“This is your truck, not a dictatorship,” Bee said.
Wes kept both hands on the wheel and smiled at the road. “Those sound like the same thing to me.”
Bee reached for the radio again. Wes used his thumb to skip ahead before she could touch the screen. She dropped her hand into her lap and gave him a look he noticed without turning his head.
“You're ridiculous,” Bee said.
“You keep getting into the truck with me,” Wes replied.
“You're lucky I like you,” she said.
His smile widened. “I know.”
Bee shifted toward him. “You're getting way too confident.”
“Maybe you're finally realizing I'm worth liking,” Wes said.
“Don't push it,” Bee warned him.
Wes laughed and turned the music back up. Bee shook her head while she tapped her fingers against her knee. She was still smiling when headlights swung across the windshield.
An oncoming car crossed the center line and came straight toward the driver's side. Wes's smile vanished as he slammed on the brakes and pulled the wheel toward the shoulder. The truck lurched beneath Bee while the tires screamed against the pavement.
“Wes!” Bee shouted.
The other car struck before they reached the shoulder. Metal folded with a sound so loud that Bee felt it inside her chest. Her seat belt locked as the airbag exploded in front of her. Glass burst across the cab while the truck spun away from the road.
Bee heard Wes say her name once. The cab tilted around her while broken glass scattered across the dashboard. Then every sound disappeared.
Bee woke to a steady beeping that did not belong in Grandma's house. A white ceiling blurred above her. Something pulled against the back of her hand when she tried to move. Pain spread through her ribs before she managed to lift her head from the pillow.
A nurse stepped into the room and crossed quickly to the bed. “Don't sit up yet,” the nurse said as she placed one hand near Bee's shoulder. “You were in a car accident.”
The words reached Bee before the memory did. Music returned first, followed by Wes laughing beside her and headlights filling the windshield. She searched the room, expecting to find him in another bed or standing near the door.
“Where's Wes?” Bee asked.
The nurse checked the monitor beside the bed. “I need you to stay still while I get the doctor.”
Bee caught the nurse's wrist before she could move away. “He was driving. Where is he?”
“He was brought here too,” the nurse answered.
Bee's grip tightened. “Is he alive?”
The nurse looked toward Bee's hand before meeting her eyes. “I can't give you information about another patient.”
“I don't need his chart,” Bee said. “I need to know if he's alive.”
“I understand,” the nurse replied. “You're not listed as family, so I can't discuss his condition with you.”
Bee tried to sit up again. Pain stopped her halfway, forcing a gasp from her as the nurse eased her back against the pillow. The movement brought another flash of headlights. Nothing came after it.
“He was right beside me,” Bee said. “You can't tell me anything?”
The nurse adjusted the blanket over Bee's legs. “Your grandmother is on her way. Wes's emergency contact was notified too.”
“His mother?” Bee asked.
“I can't tell you anything else,” the nurse said. “I'm sorry.”
Bee turned her face toward the window. Darkness covered the glass, leaving only the reflection of the bed and the machines around her. She closed her eyes. The blank space after the headlights felt worse than the room.
The doctor arrived and asked questions Bee answered without hearing herself. She knew her name and the month. She also knew where she lived. She could not say what happened after the headlights filled the windshield.
“Your scans look good,” the doctor explained. “You have a concussion and bruised ribs. You also have several cuts from the glass. We want to keep you overnight for observation.”
Bee looked past him toward the open door. “What about Wes?”
The doctor paused. “I can only discuss your care.”
“Everybody keeps saying that,” Bee replied.
The doctor checked the notes in his hand. “The nurse said your grandmother should be here soon.”
Bee stopped asking because neither of them was going to answer. The doctor continued explaining her injuries while she watched the hallway behind him. Every pair of footsteps made her wait for Wes to appear.
Grandma reached the room while the nurse was cleaning a cut near Bee's hairline. She came through the door with her purse still over one shoulder and crossed to the bed without taking off her coat. Bee reached for her before Grandma had time to say anything.
“They won't tell me where he is,” Bee said.
Grandma took Bee's hand in both of hers. “I know.”
“Do you know anything?” Bee asked.
Grandma shook her head. “His mother is here. She's with the doctors.”
“That doesn't tell me if he's okay,” Bee said.
“No, it doesn't,” Grandma replied.
Bee pressed her lips together as tears filled her eyes. Grandma moved closer and wrapped one arm carefully around her shoulders. The first sob hurt Bee's ribs. She could not stop the next one.
“I can't remember what happened to him,” Bee said. “The car came toward us. Then there was nothing. I don't know if he was awake. I don't know if he was talking. I don't know anything.”
Grandma rubbed her hand over Bee's back. “You were hurt too.”
“He was on the side that got hit,” Bee said.
Grandma's hand slowed for a moment before moving again. “His mother will come when she can.”
“What if she doesn't?” Bee asked.
“She will,” Grandma said.
The nurse finished placing a bandage near Bee's hairline and left the room. Grandma remained beside the bed with one hand wrapped around Bee's. Neither of them reached for the television remote or tried to fill the silence.
The clock above the door moved from one hour to the next. A different nurse checked Bee's pupils and replaced the bag hanging beside the bed. She brought water that Bee barely touched. Each time wheels rolled past in the hallway, Bee looked toward the door.
“You need to rest,” Grandma said.
Bee kept her attention on the hallway. “I can't.”
“Closing your eyes won't change what they're doing for him,” Grandma replied.
“I know,” Bee said. “I still can't.”
Grandma pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. She did not ask again. Her thumb moved slowly over Bee's knuckles while another stretch of minutes passed on the clock.
Wes's mother appeared in the doorway with swollen eyes and her hair pulled into a loose knot. She held the frame for a second before coming inside. Bee pushed herself higher against the pillows and ignored the pain in her ribs.
“He's alive,” Wes's mother said.
Bee closed her eyes as the breath left her body. Tears slid toward her temples while she held on to Grandma's hand. The relief hurt almost as much as the fear had.
“How bad is it?” Bee asked.
Wes's mother took the chair on the other side of the bed. “He has a broken collarbone and several fractured ribs. He has a concussion too. His shoulder was badly injured when the door crushed inward. They had to cut the door away to free him. He has cuts and bruising across his left side.”
Bee looked at the woman's hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Is he awake?”
“Not yet,” Wes's mother replied.
“Is he going to wake up?” Bee asked.
Wes's mother swallowed before answering. “The doctors don't know when. He's stable. They're watching him closely.”
Bee opened her mouth. No words came. Grandma tightened her hold on Bee's hand. Wes's mother reached across the space between them and covered both of their hands with hers.
“He told me I was finally realizing he was worth liking,” Bee said.
Wes's mother's expression softened. “He already knew you did.”
“He was being too confident,” Bee replied.
“That sounds like him,” his mother said.
Bee laughed once. The sound broke into another cry. She pressed one hand against her ribs and waited for the pain to ease. Wes's mother stayed beside her without looking away.
“I need to see him,” Bee said.
“I asked,” Wes's mother replied. “They're checking with your nurse.”
“I can walk,” Bee insisted.
Grandma gave her a firm look. “You can barely sit up.”
“Then I'll use a wheelchair,” Bee said.
The nurse returned several minutes later with one waiting outside the room. She helped Bee move slowly from the bed and made her sit until the dizziness passed. Grandma tied the back of Bee's hospital gown before settling a blanket over her lap.
“Ten minutes,” the nurse said. “If you feel sick or dizzy, you come straight back.”
“I understand,” Bee replied.
Grandma pushed the wheelchair into the hallway while Wes's mother walked beside them. The lights seemed too bright after hours in the dim hospital room. Bee kept both hands on the blanket and watched the numbers beside each door.
They stopped near the end of the hallway. Wes's mother opened the door, then stepped back to let Grandma push Bee inside. Bee saw the bed and forgot to breathe.
Wes lay beneath a thin hospital blanket with his left shoulder secured against his body. Bruising darkened one side of his face. A bandage covered the cut near his temple while the monitor beside him marked each heartbeat.
Grandma rested one hand on Bee's shoulder. “We'll be outside.”
Bee looked up at her. “You don't have to leave.”
“I know,” Grandma replied.
Wes's mother touched Bee's uninjured shoulder before following Grandma into the hallway. The door closed softly behind them. Bee was alone with Wes and the steady sounds of the machines around him.
She unlocked the wheelchair and moved it closer to the bed. Wes's right hand rested beside him, untouched by the worst of the bruising. Bee took it carefully between both of hers and traced her thumb over his knuckles.
“You look terrible,” Bee said.
Wes did not move. Bee waited anyway, half expecting him to open his eyes and tell her she looked worse. The silence remained. The small hope she had allowed herself slipped away.
“I don't know if you can hear me,” Bee continued. “I'm going to talk anyway because you usually don't give me this much time without interrupting.”
Her voice shook on the last word. Bee lowered her eyes to his hand and held it closer. The warmth of his skin was the only thing keeping her fear from returning.
“I woke up alone, and nobody would tell me where you were,” Bee said. “I couldn't remember the crash. I couldn't remember the ambulance or anyone pulling me from the truck. I kept hearing you laugh. That was where everything stopped.”
She swallowed and looked at his face again. The bandage near his temple made the blank space in her memory feel real. Bee tightened her fingers around his without hurting him.
“I started thinking about how I was supposed to remember you,” she said. “I hated that. You weren't supposed to become a memory, Wes. You were supposed to be somebody I kept getting to know.”
The monitor continued its steady rhythm. Bee listened to it for several seconds before finding the courage to keep speaking. Nothing about the room changed, yet the words she had avoided for weeks felt too large to hold inside her now.
“I kept telling myself we were taking things slow,” Bee said. “I thought that meant I didn't have to decide what this was yet. I thought I could wait until I felt ready.”
She lifted his hand and rested it against her cheek. The position pulled at her IV. She ignored the discomfort while Wes's fingers stayed loose against her skin.
“Then I woke up and couldn't find you,” Bee continued.
“I realized I was already past the part where I could keep this from hurting me.
I was already attached to you. You're the person I look for when I walk into a room.
You're the person I want to tell things to. Somewhere along the way, I started expecting you to be there tomorrow.”
Bee closed her eyes as another tear slipped down her cheek and touched the side of his hand. She had spent the night begging strangers for one piece of information about him. Now she had ten minutes and more truth than she knew how to fit inside them.
“I thought there would always be more time,” Bee said. “Another date. Another drive. Another chance to tell you something important. Maybe even a chance to kiss you if you ever stopped talking long enough.”
Her laugh came out small and unsteady. She opened her eyes and studied his face. Wes remained still while Bee lowered his hand from her cheek and held it between both of hers again.
“I don't want to save this for later anymore,” she said. “I love you.”
The confession left Bee shaken, but the panic she had expected never came. Instead, she felt a painful clarity settle over her. She loved him. The fear filling the room had nothing to do with that truth. It came from the thought of losing him before he ever had the chance to hear it.
“I love the man you are,” Bee continued.
“I love how you pay attention. I love that you remember small things.
I love that you bring flour when somebody needs flour and doughnuts when you want Grandma to like you.
I love that I don't know everything about you yet because I want the time to learn the rest. I even love how confident you've gotten, though I'm going to deny saying that when you wake up.”
Bee pressed his hand between hers and leaned closer to the bed. Her ribs protested, forcing her to stop before she could rest against him. She stayed near enough that he might hear her if any part of him was listening.
“You don't have to wake up and make me feel better right now,” Bee said. “You don't have to promise me anything. I need you to stay, Wes.”
Her voice broke. She did not look away. Bee rubbed her thumb across his knuckles and took a careful breath. The pain in her ribs sharpened before slowly easing.
“You can be hurt,” Bee continued. “You can be angry. You can be scared. You can fall apart when you wake up. I'll sit beside you and fall apart too. I just need you to stay long enough to hear me say this when you're awake.”
Bee lowered her forehead to their joined hands. The monitor kept its steady rhythm beside them. She held on to Wes and did not let go.