I bend over and crush him to me, kissing the top of his head and running my hands up and down his back, through his hair, along his shoulders, everywhere I can touch to remind him he still belongs to this world. He buries his face in my chest and sobs. No words are needed. Not for a long time. Not until someone clears their throat.
“Mr. Warren?” a tall, handsome man in a white lab coat asks.
“That’s me.” Archer wipes the tears from his face and stands up. I do the same, clutching his hand in support.
“I’m Dr. Miller. I’ve been taking care of your sister since she arrived.”
“How is she?”
“She’s alive, but she’s in a coma. She still isn’t breathing on her own, but she’s a fighter.”
“What does that mean? Is she going to live?”
“She’s stable. I’m optimistic. We’ve done all we can. Now it’s up to her and God. She’s on a breathing machine and we’re running tests. An EEG is being administered right now to see how badly the lack of oxygen has damaged her brain.”
“Brain damage?” Archer asks, his words slow and labored. I grip his hand tighter.
“There are two types of brain injuries, hypoxic and anoxic. Hypoxic is when the brain doesn’t get enough oxygen and anoxic is when the brain doesn’t get any. Your sister suffered an anoxic brain injury. When you found her, she wasn’t breathing at all and the longer the brain is left without oxygen, the more severe the injury. The EEG will measure brain activity and that will give us a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” He places a hand on Archer’s shoulder. “She’s made it this far, let’s not lose hope.”
Archer clears the emotion from his throat. “Can I see her?”
“I think so. Just prepare yourself. She’s hooked up to machines and there’s a tube down her throat. It looks scary, but it’s needed to keep her alive.” He looks from Archer to me and down to our joined hands. “But only one of you should come back at a time.”
“I’m her brother, Kian is… a friend.” Archer drops my hand and turns to me. “I’ll call you later.”
“Go. Don’t worry about me. I’ll wait here for you.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“When you’re ready, go to the nurse’s station. They’ll tell you where to go and I’ll stop in after a while.” Dr. Miller holds out his hand. Archer shakes it and thanks him.
“I can wait for however long. I don’t want you to be alone after you’ve seen her.”
“I’ll be okay. You don’t need to waste your whole day in the waiting room.”
“Archer, I’m not some stranger. It’s me. I want to be here for you.” I insist.
He scratches his chin through his beard the way he does whenever he’s stressed. “Um, do you think you could go by the house? Check on Emmy and Lou? They were still asleep when I left and I’m worried they’ll be scared waking up with Mrs. Porter.”
“Of course. Can I take over babysitting and send Mrs. Porter home?”
“That’d be great.”
“Call me when you know more.”
“I will.” He promises.
Before he has a chance to walk away, I wrap my arms around his middle and rest my cheek on his chest so I can hear his heartbeat. He hugs me back, but only for a second.
“I gotta go,” he says, walking backward. “I’ll call you.”
I watch until he disappears through the swinging doors that’ll lead him to his sister. I want to do more. I want to reach inside him, take his worry, and give it to myself. It’s not fair for someone who has already lost so much, to be on the verge of losing more. I fear what it’ll do to him and if he’d be able to recover.
It’s not until I step outside that I remember I don’t have a car. I debate calling Jarrett or Fernando, but ultimately decide to walk. It’s only two miles to Archer and Sara’s house and I use the time to process my life right now.
Just a couple months ago, my life was predictable. I was happy, but I was stagnant. I had my bar and club, my friends, my cute condo, and peace. Then Archer came and nothing’s been the same. Even with all the pain from the last two days, I can’t regret us. He made me feel big emotions, made me excited about life, and recently, made me deal with emotions I didn’t know I was harboring.
It’s no wonder I never pursued anything deeper with anyone. If I hadn’t met Archer, I don’t know when I would’ve realized I’d been holding myself back. But he was never a choice for me. My attraction to him was instantaneous, with his rock-hard body and sad eyes. Then after he opened up to me, it was all over. I fell for him recklessly and without a shred of self-preservation.
There’s a wrong time even for the most right of couples, and Archer and I managed to find each other before either of us had any business trying to merge our lives. It’s time to backtrack. Do that friends thing we talked so much about but failed so horribly at.
I walk through the front door of Sara’s house a half hour later with a clear head. I don’t know what I’ll tell these kids, but I’m hoping I’ll figure it out in the moment.
Mrs. Porter pops her head around the corner and smiles sadly when she sees me. “How is she?”
“She’s okay. Hanging on, but not in the clear.” I don’t divulge too much. It doesn’t feel right. “Archer sent me to relieve you.”
“Okay, let me finish washing these dishes and I’ll leave you to it. The kids are still sleeping and I got bored, so I started cleaning.”
I follow her back into the squeaky-clean kitchen. I must look as shitty as I feel because she sets a mug out for me without being asked. I pour a cup of coffee, drowning it in cream. The black sludge is a necessity, but I don’t like the taste. Mrs. Porter finishes loading the dishwasher and hugs me before leaving. She’s someone I’ve known my whole life and part of the woke elderly in this town.
I take my coffee and explore. I’ve never been past the living room and combined kitchen. I find Sara’s room first. Her bed is disheveled, the room is a mess, and there’s a sad, dark vibe emanating from the space. I set my cup down and make her bed, pick up her laundry, and close all her half open drawers. When, and I mean when, she comes home, it should be to a more serene space.
Then I find Archer’s room. Or at least I think it is. I wouldn’t know because there’s absolutely no personality in here. No pictures, no decorations, even the bedding is boring. It’s no wonder he never feels settled. He’s not. Whenever we spent time together, it was always at my place. I thought maybe it was because his family lives here, and maybe that’s true to some extent, but I’ll bet it’s also because this doesn’t feel like home.
I make his bed, feeling like a creeper when I pick up his pillow and breathe in his manly scent. It’s woodsy and masculine. Sexy.
“Kian?” a small voice asks. I drop the pillow and spin around to find Lou there in only a pair of little boy boxer briefs and I decide right then and there, I’ve never seen anything more adorable.
“Hey, buddy. Just waking up?”