Chapter Twenty-Four
There’s no guide for if the stars don’t align
When you reach the end of time
And you’re not by my side
—US Lyric Bot [@HourlyUS]
Hospital waiting rooms were the worst. The sickly white glare of the lighting. The cold, speckled industrial tile. The hard, uncomfortable chairs.
The feeling of being on edge as you waited for answers.
How could I be back in this horribly familiar place so soon? I’d just been here with Mom, and now here I was again, having it all crash down for a second time while I could do nothing but chew my stick of gum and worry about someone else I cared about.
Jake wasn’t hurt anywhere near as bad as Mom, obviously. I didn’t have that bone-deep fear that threatened to crawl up my throat like I had with her. But I was still worrying, my foot drumming out an anxious tempo on the floor.
What if his hand was fractured? Or broken? How long would it take for Jake to heal? Would it interfere with his US tour? I spotted Jake coming around the corner. I stood immediately, striding across the floor to meet him.
His shirtsleeve was rolled up, and beige gauze wrapped around his palm and all the way up to the veins in the middle of his forearm.
My fingers reached for him on instinct, before pulling back. “What did the doctor say?”
“Well, nothing’s broken.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, that’s good.”
“Yeah,” Jake agreed, taking his good hand and placing it on my upper back as he guided me toward the row of elevators. “I have a sprained wrist. The doctor says it should heal without any lasting damage, but . . .”
“But what?”
“He doesn’t want me to play guitar for the next two days. He says I’ll make the injury worse.”
“Okay.” I nodded, stepping inside the elevator. “We’ll make sure you don’t do that.”
Jake stared at me like I was missing something. I looked away and punched the button to go down. “Lucy, your livestream. I don’t feel that bad, so I can definitely sing, but—”
“You’re worried about the livestream?” I asked, looking over at him in shock.
He wore a look as equally surprised as mine. “You’re not? It’s all I could think about the whole time I was waiting for the doctor.”
I blinked, struck. The whole time I’d been waiting, I was thinking of him, and meanwhile, the whole time he was waiting, he’d only been thinking of me?
“The café performance is everything,” Jake emphasized. “It should be your first thought.”
“No, my first thought’s you, actually,” I snapped, upset he’d put himself second. “Jake, you’re hurt. You could’ve broken your hand, and it would’ve all been because of my livestream plan, and I—”
“What?” Jake sounded as angry as I did. “No, absolutely not. This isn’t your fault.”
“But what if it is?” I asked, the words tumbling out of my mouth.
Fury and helplessness coursed through me. All I wanted to do was to be there for what mattered, and instead, I was failing Mom and the café—and I’d caused trouble for Jake in the process. Nothing hurt more than hurting the people you cared about.
A lock of hair flew into my eyes. Why had I left it down this morning? I should’ve known better. I ripped a spare hairband off my wrist and pulled my hair back tight.
I put Jake in danger. And I took the one thing he loves most in the world—music—and made it a fraction harder for him. It’d be a while before he played guitar again. Or piano.
All because of today.
He only came back down because of me.
And he shouldn’t have.
“Everything’s been a disaster since I’ve gotten involved.
” And gotten Jake involved. Being there for people shouldn’t come with consequences.
But maybe they did, and that’s why so many things fell apart.
What did that mean for any future relationship we had?
What if I ended up holding Jake back? Would he resent me for this in a week or two, when he still couldn’t play?
“Nothing’s turning out right and being protected like it’s supposed to. The café. The livestream. Jake, you can’t even play guitar. I called you down here just to get your wrist sprained.”
“You know that’s not what happened,” Jake argued, gesturing wildly to underscore his words, trying to get me to understand. “You’re not seriously blaming yourself for—”
As Jake moved his hand for emphasis, the end of the long bandage around his wrist came undone, fluttering in the air like a ribbon.
The sight pulled me out of my spiral.
Deep down, I knew nothing bad that happened was directly because of me.
It’s just that, sometimes, it was easier to put the blame on something or someone logical, even if that person was myself. I did that when Mom got into her accident too.
But life’s not like that. Sometimes we failed at keeping what we wanted, no matter how hard we tried. Sometimes the people closest to us got hurt even when we had better intentions. Sometimes we lost our connections, and it wasn’t even our choice.
We just had to figure out where to go from here.
Jake moved to reattach his bandage, but I reached out and carefully caught his hands in mine.
“Hey,” I said softly, entwining the tail end of the bandage around my fingers before it could unravel any more. “Let me.”
Obediently, Jake stood still as I rewrapped his wrist and palm. He watched me as I did, his eyes trying to catch mine beneath his dark lashes.
“My wrist getting sprained isn’t your fault,” Jake assured me softly. “You moved as fast as you could. You saved Bunny. The alternative would’ve been worse if you hadn’t acted as quickly as you did.”
I didn’t even want to imagine it.
Finishing up, I tucked the tip of the bandage under the piece beneath it, then gently smoothed over the remaining tape with my thumb. I couldn’t bring myself to meet Jake’s gaze, but he still tried to talk to me.
“Neither of us could’ve known what was going to happen when I stopped the lights from falling.”
I pursed my lips. “If only we did.”
“It wouldn’t make a difference,” Jake promised. “Even if I did know what was going to happen, I would’ve done everything the same, anyway.”
The words brought me to a full stop. I couldn’t move my hands from his. “What?”
“You think I’d rather it hurt you instead? Lucy, look at me,” he said, and I forced my eyes up to meet his hazel ones. “I’d choose running toward you again in a heartbeat. You getting hurt’s the last thing I’d ever want.”
My thumb did a half circle across the palm of his hand, tracing a crescent moon.
If that’s true, then why didn’t you talk to me for years? I wanted to ask.
But before I could, I saw the vulnerable look in his eyes. Did Jake not think he hurt me before? Did he really not know how much he meant to me back then?
“Jake, I—”
The elevator dinged and the doors swept open, breaking the spell.
I took in a shaky breath, then blew it out steadily. “We need to figure out the livestream.”
Jake nodded. “Leon texted Marie I hurt my wrist before we left for the hospital, just in case we needed to delay the livestream another hour. This went faster than I thought, but we need to get back to the café.”
Jake strode out of the elevator.
Part of me wanted to stop him. To ignore all my logical reasoning and ask all the questions I’d saved up. There was one that burned on the tip of my tongue above the others:
Did he mean all this as a friend to another friend? Or did his words mean something more?
But I had a café to save first.
Later, I thought as I snuck a look at Jake. We’ll talk about this later.
And I made it a promise.
***
When Jake and I entered the café, Phillip, Leon, and Aspen were on a video call with Marie. Judging from the looks on their faces—and the nervous ones on Mom’s and Amber’s as they stood to the side, listening—the meeting was not going very well.
Even the crew looked awkward as they hung around, eavesdropping.
Jake and I exchanged tense glances.
“Hey, Marie,” Jake greeted, stepping in front of the camera. “What’s going on?”
“Ah, Jake, you’re back,” Marie said, giving him a curt nod. “Just in time. I’m pulling the plug on the livestream.”
“What?” I gasped out. “You can’t.”
We needed the livestream—especially now that Mom confirmed the bank wouldn’t be able to help.
The four boys’ protests were as immediate as mine. I couldn’t distinguish all of what they were saying with their voices all shouting over one another, but I knew they were fighting for me.
“Boys,” Marie snapped, silencing their overlapping pleas and arguments. “I understand your concerns. I’ll admit, canceling isn’t the best look. But we don’t have a choice with Jake’s injury.”
“But I’m fine to sing,” Jake protested. “I just can’t play guitar.”
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Who’s going to play the music for this performance?
” Marie asked. She pointed at Phillip, Aspen, and Leon.
“None of you can play guitar, so you three can’t fill in.
And I won’t use a prerecorded track and have you doing some hammy karaoke performance that becomes a meme. ”
“A capella,” I rushed out. “How about they sing a capella?”
“Not a chance,” Marie spat, as if I’d suggested something wildly outrageous. “Without a single instrument? Are you kidding? Unprofessional. I’d never allow it.”
I deflated.
“It’s a loss both ways, but it’s better to reschedule the livestream,” Marie stated. “I’ve spent the last couple years carefully cultivating the exact image I want. It’d be a bad move to green-light a performance that’s going to make the band look like amateurs.”
She looked down at what I assumed was her calendar.
“Between tour rehearsal and your individual, conflicting schedules, the next time all four of you will be available is in October.”
“That won’t work,” I protested. “Without this, we won’t even be open in October. We had a deal.” I gestured between myself and Jake. “We even got the band back together for you before tour.”
“I’m sorry, but we’re out of options,” Marie said smoothly. Then, as if that news wasn’t bad enough, she announced, “When Leon texted me about Jake’s hand, I took the liberty of booking you four on flights out this evening.”
I jerked back in shock, unable to help my physical reaction, like when a microphone whines so blaringly loud and high-pitched that you instinctively flinch.
This evening? So soon?
Jake’s jaw dropped. “You what?”
“We can have another meeting in LA,” Marie reasoned, before glancing at her notes.
“There weren’t four available seats on a single flight due to booking on such short notice, though.
So, Jake, you have the first flight out tonight.
Followed by Leon and Aspen on another, and then Phillip.
I figured you wouldn’t want the red-eye, Leon,” Marie said, laughing a little at her joke, as if she hadn’t just finished destroying the very thing all my hopes were pinned on. “I’ll text you the info.”
Without waiting for a reply, she hung up.
“So this is it, then?” Jake muttered to himself. He turned to look at me. “I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
Then, without any warning, Jake walked out the door.