Chapter 54
Hannah
I wake in a fluorescent-lit hospital room with a hollow pit in my stomach and my family and friends gathered around me. They’re staring mournfully down at me like they’re at a funerary viewing.
“What—happened?” My throat is shredded. It comes out as a croak.
My mom hands me a glass of water and I drink it greedily. My whole body aches.
My parents shoot each other a look I’m familiar with: How to tell her? “You had to have your stomach pumped,” my dad says gently. “The doctors say you need to rest.”
“Han.” Kenny speaks to me like I’m a child he doesn’t want to scare. “How much do you remember?”
That’s when it rushes back: Ginny, the beach, the rip current, and Theo.
Oh god—Theo.
I push myself up in the bed, but my mom stops me, pressing my shoulders back. “Shh, take it easy. Not too fast.”
“Where’s Theo?” I demand. “He pulled me out.”
“He’s okay,” Bowie assures me. “He’s already out of the hospital. They say he’s going to heal up just fine.”
Heal up? The cup of water, wet with condensation, slips from my hand and spills on the floor.
“I’m sorry.” I jerk down too fast, reaching for the spill. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey now.” My dad guides me back against the headboard. My head swims with dizziness. “It’s just water.”
“I’ve got it,” Ripper says, beelining for the door. “I’ll find a nurse for some rags.”
My gaze meets Kenny’s and Bowie’s. They’re looking at me with pity, and half of me hates it. The other half doesn’t understand why they’re not furious instead. And that goes double for my parents—the last I remember I was screaming at them, and now here they are, by my side.
“I’m sorry for everything,” I say quietly. “Not just the spill. I know the album is releasing next week and we’re supposed to be doing all this promo and it’s the finish line and I fucked it all up—”
“Hannah, stop,” Bowie says, in a stern voice I’ve never heard before. I’m so shocked that Bowie can be stern that I actually do shut up. “None of that matters compared to this.”
“What happened out there?” My mother’s voice is even. Like always, she’s the most no-nonsense person in the room. “How did you end up in the water?”
“I was looking for Ginny.” I’m too ashamed to look anyone in the eyes, so I focus on my hands in my lap, warm through my thin hospital gown. “I thought if I went to the last place she existed, I could talk to her again.”
“How much did you drink?” my mother asks. “The bottle you were holding when you kicked us out of your house—how much of it?” Her voice is clinical, but I wince all the same.
“Too much,” I whisper.
“Hannah, I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to answer truthfully. No matter how you think it’s going to make the rest of us feel.” For the first time, my mom’s voice cracks. “Did you go to Miramar Beach to end your life?”
“What?” My head jerks up. “Of course not.” And then I consider what I did, and the indignation drains out of me. “Though I can see why you might ask.”
“That’s good.” My mom releases a surprisingly shaky breath. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Ripper comes back with a cheerful nurse, who assures me not to worry about the glass and starts sweeping wet shards into a dustbin. Everyone is uncomfortably silent until she leaves, and then, one by one, their attention turns back to me.
“Kenny.” Bowie nudges him. “Do you want to . . . ”
“Right.” Kenny straightens up, then says, “Hannah,” with a strange formality.
Ripper rests his hand on Kenny’s arm, as if steeling him for whatever he’s about to say.
“We love you very much.” He takes a deep breath.
“Which is why we wanted to talk to you as soon as possible about getting some professional help.”