I look behind me and debate asking her to come in. I know I should, but Jesus, isn’t that inviting a disaster to happen? “I can call him. See where he is.”
“I left him a text telling him I’ll be here. I’m glad we’re alone though, because I—uh”—a slow smile spreads across her red painted lips—“wanted to make sure what happened earlier stayed between us. I really like your brother and all, and I’d hate for him to find out that we—”
“Wait. What?” I shake my head as if my ears aren’t hearing properly. “You knew I wasn’t Jonah? You—”
Her laugh floats out freely, as I stare at her as if she’s crazy. I should be thinking more along the lines that she’s easy, that she’s a bitch for doing that to my brother . . . but I’m sixteen, and that’s my convoluted first thought about the girl I just lost my virginity to.
“Of course, I knew.” She rolls her eyes. “I . . .”
Her words fade off as we turn toward the police cruiser that pulls into the driveway—its flashing lights are on but the sirens are off.
It’s as if my body just tuned into everything around me—everything that has been faded by the high of sex—and there is the worst feeling in my gut and chest. I can’t breathe. I don’t know how I know it, but something bad has happened.
Even worse, when I walk toward the police car, an officer is practically carrying my mom out of the passenger seat of the car. She looks as boneless as her complexion is pale. Her face is swollen from tears but her eyes look completely hollow.
“Mom. Mom!” My voice breaks as I run to her.
“Jonah. Thank God you’re okay,” she says as she clings to me. I look at the officer, and then try to pull my mom off me so I can look her in the eyes.
“It’s Hunter, Mom. It’s me. What happened? Tell me what happened?” I yell at her as she stares at me with a slack jaw, almost as if she doesn’t believe I’m me.
“Hunter?”
“Yes. It’s me. What happened?”
“But you were the one who was supposed to be in the car.” She grabs my hand and yanks me to the cruiser as the ever-present dread begins to weigh me down in a weight I’ve never felt before. “We need to get to the hospital. We need to—”
“What the hell happened?” I yell. Every part of me goes silent that moments ago felt off. And that scares me more than anything.
“There’s been an accident, Jonah.”
“Hunter. Mom, it’s Hunter.”
“An accident. Your brother was in an accident.”
“What do you mean an accident?” I look at my mom and then to the officer. “What does she mean?”
“Your brother crossed the median and hit another car head-on.” His voice is serious but his eyes, his eyes tell me they’ve seen way too much, and I fear what he’s going to say next. I focus on the shield on his chest. The badge with the sun and rays of sunshine engraved on it. The letters of his last name, as I recite them in my head over and over and over . . . because if I stop, he’ll tell me my brother is dead.
He’ll tell me that my brother was drunk driving. That he was the responsible one. That when I refused to go get Mom, he went. He couldn’t refuse. He couldn’t say no. He drove to pick up our mom even though he’d been drinking.
Because I didn’t . . .
I was the screw-up. I didn’t pick up the fucking cell. His missed calls. Calls to tell me he couldn’t drive because he’d been drinking. And the officer would know. He’ll tell me that while I was having sex with my brother’s girlfriend out of spite, I caused this. I fucked up.
“Is he okay?” I can barely speak as my body blankets with goosebumps. My words feel like they have to be pried from my mouth as I stare at him and hope and wait and already know.
“He’s at the hospital. This officer—he picked me up from work to bring me there—to get you on the way—it’s very serious, Hunter. Your brother. He’s—and the other driver . . . she didn’t make it.”
I try to process.
I try to fathom.
I try to comprehend.
But none of it makes sense.
Except . . .
I caused this.
I’m the one responsible.
I’m the vindictive one.
I’m the one my mother thought she’d left at the hospital. Alone.
And then . . . I can’t sense Jonah. I can’t feel my twin.
I stare at the police officer as if I don’t hear him, as if I don’t want to hear him . . . then the bottom drops out.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
HUNTER
SOMETHING’S AMISS.
My head’s foggy.
My thoughts are lost.
I try to concentrate, but every time I try to manipulate the game plan, I fail.
Maybe I’m coming down with something.
Maybe this is burnout showing now.
* * *
“Tough game tonight.”
I glance over at Maysen and nod. “Sorry. I . . . was fucking up left and right out there.”
He shrugs, probably surprised that I’m not arguing or being defensive about it. “It happens, man.” He pats me on the back as I head toward my locker. “At least we still won.”
“True.” I nod. I hate knowing I didn’t contribute. Hate knowing that if there was a text from my dad, which there hasn’t been for the last couple games, exactly what it would say.
“At least we have a few days to shake it off.”
“My body could use it,” I tease and throw my gloves into the locker, sighing when I see my screen light up with Dad on the message ID.
“I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist for long,” I mutter.
With a deep sigh, I pick up my phone. Panic hits when I see the three words on the screen.
Dad: Call. It’s Jonah.
Within seconds, I’m out of the locker room, trying to find a place where I can hear and talk and have some privacy.
My mom doesn’t pick up on the first call. I end it and try again.
“Hello?” She sounds like a ghost of herself.
“Mom? Mom. What happened? How is he?” My words sound strangled from part panic, part disbelief, part just when I was trying to figure out a way to live for me, I’m sucked back into the darkness of shame.
And of course, the self-loathing is like an old enemy—unabashed, relentless, and unforgiving.
“He coded. He—”
“He what?” I bellow. How the fuck do I get out of here?
I can’t breathe.
“He coded and the ambulance came and . . .” The vibrato in her voice, the pure fear, hits me harder than any punch I’ve ever taken. “They revived him. He’s at the hospital.”
“Why? What happened?” I need to get out of here.
“Another bacterial infection in his lungs. His body, Hunter . . . it’s broken and can’t take much more. The doctors say his immune system is always on the defense and they were lucky to bring him back this time.” She emits a sound I never want to hear again.
It’s raw and abraded and sounds like her heart has been ripped from her chest.
“Mom. But he’s okay now, right? He’s resting and—”