Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JESSICA
The faint morning light is peeking through the curtains when I exit the bathroom.
Night shifts are usually long and hard, and by the time I get home, I just want to crash into bed and sleep, but first I need to wash off the scent of the hospital and sickness off of me.
Especially after tonight. There was a kid with the stomach flu who came in, and to say there was puke everywhere by the time the family left would be an understatement. Including on me.
Reaching for the duvet, I’m pulling it down when I hear it. The soft rap against my door.
I look up and listen, wondering if I imagined it. Who would knock this early in the morning? Then I hear it again.
I leave my room and walk down the hallway toward the front door, where I check through the peephole, my heart speeding up when I see the person standing on the other side.
I quickly unlock the door and pull it open.
My heart is racing wildly as I find Matthew standing in front of me.
His palms are pressed against the doorframe, his head bent down. His hair is a mess, as if he’s run his fingers through it a hundred times.
“M-Matthew?” My voice breaks as I extend my hand toward him, unsure of what to do. What to say.
What the hell happened?
He lifts his head, his cheek nuzzling into my palm as those dark eyes fix on mine. The pain and heartbreak in them slam into me like a freight train, and it feels like I’m thrown back into the past.
Five years ago
Plink.
My brows furrow as I look up from my book and listen intently. It’s late, and my family is already in bed, but I have a test tomorrow, so I wanted to stay up a little while longer to study.
Just when I think I imagined the sound, I hear it again. Two quick plinks, one after the other.
Plink.
Plink.
I turn around in my chair, trying to find the source of the sound.
Plink.
My gaze darts to the window that rattled slightly. I hold my breath as I turn to the door, wondering if anybody else heard it, but the house seems quiet.
My pulse speeds up as I go to the window. I bite the inside of my cheek as the uncertainty makes my stomach twist.
This is insanity, right? I’m just imagining it. I have to be.
Still, I push it open, making sure it doesn’t make a sound, then I peek outside. The night is dark, a crescent moon barely shining through the clouds. I squint, trying to see what could have caused the sound, when I see him.
A shadow standing underneath my window.
He sees me too. His hand lowers.
My heart skips a beat as I grip the edge of the window.
“Matthew?” I hiss softly, my voice barely audible.
He nods and goes for the tree that’s not too far from my window.
Holy shit, is he—?
I barely manage to process what’s happening before he’s climbing up the tree.
“You’re crazy!” I whisper-yell.
I glance at the door again, fully expecting one of my parents or nosy sisters to barge in, but it’s still firmly closed. When I turn back to the window, I find Matthew slipping inside. I take a step back, giving him space so he doesn’t fall. There is no way I could explain that.
“Of all the crazy things you could have done! What do you—”
I suck in a sharp breath in surprise when he straightens and I get a good look at his face. A shudder rocks my body, my hand flying to my gaping mouth as I just stare at him.
“What—” I extend my hand, my fingers shaking.
The need to touch him, to convince myself that he’s all right, is fighting with the fear of hurting him.
The dim light illuminates his face, which is all messed up.
His right eye is swollen and bruised. His eyebrow is busted, and blood that trickled down the side of his face has already dried.
There is another bruise on his chin, and the left side of his lip is all puffy.
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
Now
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
The same words that broke something inside of me five years ago do the same today.
His voice is small, utterly tortured.
I skim my finger over his cheek. I can feel the bristles that have grown there overnight, scratching at my skin.
“I can’t go home right now.”
I close my eyes for a second as I struggle to push back the memories of the past.
“C’mere.” Sliding my hand to his neck, I pull him to me.
Matthew doesn’t need more prompting. He closes the distance between us, our bodies flush against each other as he buries his face in the crook of my neck, squeezing me for dear life.
I wrap my arms around him tightly and just hold him, not saying anything.
I’m not sure how long we stay like this, just holding each other, not knowing where one begins and the other ends.
His chest shakes, and my stomach rolls with unease. Matthew sucks in a shaky breath, moving back just enough so I can see his face. His eyes are red-rimmed, his lips pressed into a tight line, those brown irises swallowing me whole.
It was always those eyes that were my downfall.
I slide my hands down his arms, my fingers wrapping around his as I wordlessly pull him into my house and down the hallway.
I don’t think about the implications.
I don’t think about the rules or the consequences.
Nothing ever matters.
Not when Matthew is involved.
He holds my gaze when we come to a stop inside my bedroom. The only light comes from the lamp on my nightstand, casting a soft glow over the room.
Slipping my fingers from his, I grab the hem of his shirt and raise it over his head before working the button of his jeans and pushing them down and leaving him only in his boxer briefs.
Then I help him into bed, or at least I try to, but when I attempt to step back, he grabs my hand, pulling me down onto him and wrapping himself around me like a vine.
His leg is between mine, his arms clutch around me, my head resting on his chest, tucked just under his chin.
The warmth of his skin surrounds me. He must have taken a shower before coming over because the scent of pine clings to his skin.
I rest my hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palm. My tongue darts out, sliding over my lips as I debate on what to do, when he croaks out, “I messed up.”
The words are whispered softly. So softly I can barely hear them.
“What happened?”
He chuckles, but there is no humor in it. “I fucked up. I froze completely on the job. There was a collision and I… I just froze. Stood there like a fucking idiot.”
I heard about it earlier. The patients were taken to a bigger hospital so they could be thoroughly checked. There was even—
“There was a kid inside the car. She couldn’t have been more than five or six.”
Shit.
I shift slightly, as much as our position allows me, so I can look him in the eyes. “Matthew, this isn’t your fault.”
He shakes his head, his lips pressed in a stubborn line. “It is my fault. I was so useless, so stuck in my head, that I froze up. It was just…”
Another shake of his head.
It hit too close to home.
He doesn’t have to say it for me to understand what he means.
“I heard there was a guy who got them out. Held the truck while they tried to get to the family.”
“Not before I froze first.”
Stubborn man.
I cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look at me.
“You did what you had to. So what if you froze for a moment? We’re only human, Matthew.
We’re allowed to be affected by the disasters we face.
We’re allowed to feel. Feel the pain, the terror, the desperation, the fear.
If we don’t, if we lose that sliver of humanity, we’ll turn into machines.
Feeling is what makes us good at this job.
Feeling is what makes us push harder when everything else feels hopeless. It doesn’t make you weak.”
“Well, feeling sucks.”
“It certainly does,” I whisper softly, my gaze growing distant for a moment as I skim my thumb over his cheek. “Have you heard how they’re doing?”
Matthew nods. “Shaken. Bruised. Mom has a dislocated shoulder, but the kid is miraculously fine. They tried to avoid hitting a deer. That’s why she swerved, but she lost control of the truck, and it flipped. A blink. Just a blink of an eye, and your whole life changes forever.”
His eyes grow distant, almost as if he’s going back to the past. As if he’s remembering what happened to him.
Does he remember? It’s been so long, and he was young. So freaking young when his father died, but not too young not to remember. Still… a mind is a fickle thing when it comes to memories.
He blinks, his brown eyes meeting mine. “My mom’s not doing well.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling for him. For his pain. There are few things worse than having to watch your loved one slowly wither in front of your eyes. Watching them become a shell of the person they used to be, and having them not remember you is certainly one of those things.
“I’m sorry, Matthew.”
“They say she doesn’t have long. It’s all my fault.”
My brows pull together as I shake my head. “She has Alzheimer’s. There is nothing you could have—”
“I was the one who destroyed my family, Jessica,” he bites out. “My dad died because of me. Because I was an ungrateful brat. And losing him destroyed my mother. Destroyed our family. I should have died that day. Not him. Me.”
“Matthew…”
“It’s the truth. If I’d died, then none of this would have happened, and—”
“You don’t know that.” I cut him off sharply, my grip on his cheeks tightening.
“You can’t know what would have happened.
Maybe there would have been another accident.
Maybe your parents would have separated.
Your mom having Alzheimer’s is not your fault.
Life sucks, Matthew. There are no guarantees.
You dying that day wouldn’t have changed anything with her diagnosis, and I’m damn sure that neither of your parents would have wanted that. ”
“I hate this. I can’t lose her. I—” He sucks in a shaky breath. “It hurts.”
“I know.” I press my lips against the side of his neck. “I know.”
Resting my head against his chest, I hold him tight, offering him comfort in the only way I know how. Because in this moment, words are useless. There are no reassurances. No alternatives. No hope. There is only reality. And the outcome is going to be heartbreaking.
So, I do the only thing I can.
I hold on until sleep claims us.
Hold on as tight as I can.
But apparently not tight enough, because once again, I wake up to an empty bed.