Chapter 22
Moore
He couldn’t open his eyes, but his ears worked just fine.
Except they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.
Luke Luview, his best friend since they were babies born three days apart, was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, holding his hand.
And crying.
“I’m so sorry. I’m a jerk. And an idiot.
Or, as you said back in fifth grade, a jerkidiot.
Remember how you made those hand-drawn bumper stickers with the word on it, and tried to sell them at one of the summer love festivals?
And old Stan Petrinelli drove you off because it violated the emotional tone of the town’s products?
‘No negativity,’ he said. You got a lecture from him, but my dad came along and bought every one of those bumper stickers from you.
” Luke laughed through tears. “I should slap one on my forehead. How could I have been so stupid?”
If Moore had the energy to grunt in agreement, he would.
But he didn’t.
“You love Colleen. She loves you so much. It’s obvious, and I think it’s been in front of my face all this time and I was too stubborn to accept it.
” He sighed deeply. “Nothing about you is wrong, Moore. You’re not a screwup at love.
Cammie hurt you, and so did Gia, but none of it was ever your fault.
And here you are, hurt and suffering because you tried to help my family and do the dangerous part of the paint job. ”
Moore just inhaled and exhaled.
He had a vague sense that he should respond, but everything that made up his body felt like it was floating ten thousand feet in the air, like his skin was helium.
“I said some bad things to you. I never meant them. Pride and surprise do so much damage. I don’t know why I made you take that pledge when we were fourteen.
I think because… we were fourteen.” He laughed lightly, then sniffed.
“And when I found you two in bed in that cabin, I lost it. I lost it because I’d just waded through a pond at the truck crash and expected to haul you both out of the water, dead.
And instead, I found you naked and very, very much alive.
Never in all my life did I expect to experience that.
” He sniffed again. “When Kell and I spotted Dad’s truck, it was like reliving that moment with Jude DiPalma when we found Amber’s body on Thanksgiving.
I just couldn’t find another… another body…
of someone I love. Two someones I love, this time. ”
Moore wanted to squeeze his hand. Tell him it was okay. Say something.
All he could do was breathe, but given his current status, that seemed like an achievement.
A sob ripped out of Luke, his weight shifting on the bed. Moore struggled to open his eyes, succeeding just enough to glimpse his oldest friend curled into himself, his free arm wrapped around his belly. He was clad in a windbreaker, jeans, and a navy sweater, and his jaw was covered in scruff.
How long had Moore been in here?
“Just… live, man. Have your whole brain. I want you to be Moore again. I want my sister to have the kind of love she deserves. The kind I have with Kylie. What my parents have. You and Colleen–life better not rob you of that.”
The door opened, and Moore heard a gasp.
“Luke.” It was Colleen. “Oh, Lukie.”
“Collie,” Luke whispered. “He can’t. He just–he can’t.”
“I know. I know. He can’t. We won’t let him.”
Let me what? Moore wondered, listening to the sound of two people he loved so much crying in each other’s arms, until consciousness drifted away.
“Dad?”
“It’s okay, Jordy. You can sit on the edge of the bed. Hold his hand. He likes that.” Colleen’s voice made Moore want to smile but instead, he let out a sigh.
“Is–is he trying to talk?”
“I think he has too much medication in him right now, honey. Remember? They’re trying to give his brain lots of rest.”
“He looks so weird. Like Dad but not like him. Better than right out of surgery yesterday, though.”
“When people have been injured like that, or they’re really sick, they can look different. But he’s not different. Moore’s one hundred percent in there, and he knows you’re here, too.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Jordy’s voice broke, snapping off with a gasp. “I–”
“Hold his hand again. Like last time.” The weight on the bed changed slightly.
Moore let out a groan and opened his eyes. Jordy’s face was bright red, eyes bloodshot as he caught his father’s gaze.
“Dad?” He stood and took a step forward, peering at Moore, who was working hard to open his eyes more. “You–you awake?”
“Honey,” Colleen cut in. “He’d have to be a lot more healed to be able to–”
“Jor?” Moore croaked out, using every drop of energy he had.
“Daddy?”
Hadn’t heard that word in years.
“’S me.”
“You’re awake!” Colleen gasped, running to the door, calling down the hall. A rush of medical people appeared and Moore felt sad to be interrupted, Jordy stepping away from him and letting go of his hand.
“Stay,” he whispered, but no one heard him.
And then he went quiet again.
“I think God had us fly up here so we would be here for him, Francie.”
“I don’t know if it was God, but I feel blessed to be here. For Jordy, too.”
“He’ll be fine, right?” Moore heard his dad ask his mom, the old man’s voice cracking in a way that Moore didn’t know was possible. “He said Jordy’s name earlier today.”
“Dr. Singh and Doc Blythe said his brain activity looks fine. And he squeezes our hands when we say his name, so…”
“He’s such a good man, Francie. We raised a good boy.”
A prickly sensation filled Moore’s sinuses, his father’s words going straight to a pain center in his brain that connected to his heart. Years of shame opened up inside him, flooding his bloodstream, all of it leaving his body.
“All that tough love nonsense the therapist told us to use,” his father went on. “Maybe it was wrong.”
“We turned to experts and did what they said.”
“I’ve never seen a man who works so hard to do the right thing. But if he does it out of fear, we failed as parents.”
Moore’s head began to spin. Was this really his own father saying this? Or was he hallucinating from the pain meds?
“Dad?” he said, keeping his eyes shut, hearing his father gasp, then the sound of his parents moving to his side, the pressure of them leaning against the bed. Cool, smooth skin, papery and soothing, touched his hand.
“We’re here,” his father said somberly.
“Mom?”
“Yes, honey. Right here.”
“Colleen? Jordy?”
“They’re coming back in a bit. How do you feel?”
“Like I could do a really bad rendition of ‘I Will Always Love You’ at the festival,” he joked, earning shocked sounds from his mom, and a snicker from his dad.
“No permanent brain damage, I see,” his dad said with a chuckle. “That’s the most you’ve said since you’ve been coming to. Should I go get the doctor?”
Leander stood. Small crying sounds came from his mom, forcing him to open his eyes.
“Not yet,” Moore begged. He took in a long breath. “Give me time.”
His mom squeezed his hand.
“Don’t you ever do that again!”
“Fall off a ladder?”
“Nearly die!”
“We all die someday, Mom.”
“Parents are supposed to go first. It’s the natural order of things. You’re too young.”
“Don’t feel young.” Any time he opened his eyes, the pain in his head worsened. He pressed the pain medication button on his IV.
“You are, though. And you’re going to be fine. Jordy, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Moore whispered. “Should have done better.”
“Better?”
“Got into a fight with Colleen and Jordy before I climbed that ladder. Distracted. I fell.”
“Was the fight about Jordy’s search? He texted me to ask for court papers. I assumed you’d finally told him.”
“Colleen did.”
“We always respected your choice to stay above the fray and not criticize Cammie, but I have to admit, I was relieved when he texted me,” Leander confessed, earning a surprised look from Francine.
“You were?”
“She doesn’t deserve to be protected from the impact of her own actions,” his dad said. He patted Moore’s leg. “But now is not the time for this conversation.”
“You did fine,” Moore said softly.
“What’s that?” Francine asked, leaning in.
“You did fine,” he repeated. “If the expert told you to use tough love, it’s okay.”
They both froze.
“You heard that?” his father finally said as his mom’s hand went limp in his.
“Yes. And I get it. Parents–we never know whether we’re making the right decision, do we? I thought not telling Jordy was the best path to protect him, but I was wrong. You thought being tough on me when I made a mistake with Cammie was the right thing, but you were wrong.”
“Son–”
“Let me say this,” Moore insisted, exhaustion threatening to strip him of words.
“Of course.”
“Since I was seventeen and had to tell you I got Cammie pregnant, I’ve spent every waking moment trying to make up for it. My life is split in two, the time before that broken condom, and the time after. I’m all done with that.”
“Done?”
“I did it. I proved myself. I’m worthy of love and respect.”
“Moore, darling, no–” his mother began, but he cut her off.
“You never said I wasn’t. But that tough love left its mark. Made me afraid to take chances. Made me worry more about losing what I had than what I could gain.”
“I’m so sorry,” his father said, gravelly voice vibrating into Moore’s seventeen-year-old soul. “We could have done better by you.”
“Maybe it worked, though. I’m stronger than I might have been otherwise.”
His father cleared his throat.
“It didn’t work out because we were tough. It worked because you were so tough. You taught us a lesson in how to be tough and be loving.”
“You’re a wonderful father!” his mother exclaimed. “So good with Jordy. So persistent, so… unwaveringly devoted to him.”
“I know,” he said. The words sounded arrogant but he didn’t care. It was time to own his honorable actions instead of constantly churning out more to justify his existence. “It’s a lot of effort.”
“Hard work well rewarded. You’ve raised a good boy.”
“With my fifty days a year.”