“We brought a wheelchair. Just in case,” Jake adds. “It’s in the hall.”
With everyone’s help, the guys guide me to Room 401 in the ICU then leave me alone, promising they’re only a few yards away in case I need anything. I lick my lips and hold my breath before entering the quiet room. When I see him, my knees nearly buckle, but I force myself to take a step closer. One step. Then another. Each one more labored than the last.
He looks broken.
Battered.
Like he’s been to Hell and back, and it’s all my fault.
My IV trails beside me as I gingerly take a seat on the edge of the bed and try not to lose my shit.
River’s entire left arm and shoulder are covered in white bandages ending a few inches below his collarbone. There are so many tubes attached to him that I’m afraid if he moved a muscle, they’d get tangled instantly.
My teeth dig into the inside of my cheek as my guilt threatens to consume me before I give in and place my uninjured hand on top of his.
“I’m so sorry,” I breathe, grateful for the privacy.
A soft knock from the doorway bursts the little bubble I’d found myself in as soon as I entered the room. Feeling like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t, I pull my hand into my own lap and look up at the stranger. He looks just like River, only thirty years older and with a bit of salt peppered into his dark hair.
My gut tightens.
“I assume you’re the girlfriend?” the stranger asks.
Eyes watering, I try to keep the tears at bay, but it’s no use. The cast scratches my cheek as I brush away a stray droplet of moisture before sniffling. “Um, hi. I’m, uh, I’m Reese. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Ted,” he replies before taking another hesitant step into the room. His gaze slides over to River, causing his shoulders to hunch in defeat. “My son and I, we don’t talk much. Not because we have a bad relationship. We’re just…guys, I guess. We don’t have much to say unless there’s something important to be said.”
“Oh.”
“He called me about you, though. A few weeks ago. Didn’t tell me your name, just called you Floozy.” He chuckles. “He’s always had a warped sense of humor. But he wanted to fill me in about the girl who stole his heart. He didn’t say it like that, but I was able to piece it together.”
“Oh,” I repeat, swallowing thickly. I drop my attention down to my hands in my lap, twisting the crisp cotton sheets like a toddler with a baby blanket.
I don’t know what to say.
Closing the distance between us, he sighs then sits beside me. “He’s going to feel different now. More insecure. Less sure of himself. I’d like to think I was able to erase his mother’s hand in raising him, but I know he can be a bit superficial sometimes. I know how much he worries about landing his next job. Hell, he won’t even eat a cupcake on his birthday. The only exception is––”
“Sugary cereal,” I answer for him with a tight smile. “And s’mores. On occasion. I know.”
Eyes glazing over, he pats my hand. “This is going to do a number on him, regardless of how much he tries to hide it.”
“I know.”
“Do you love him?”
I feel like my heart is cracking in two as I hold his gaze and whisper, “I do.”
“Then you’re gonna have to work extra hard to prove it to him. Do you think you can do that? Even if he pushes you away? Even if he thinks he’s unloveable?”
“I’ll make it right,” I promise while attempting to push away the overwhelming helplessness that’s clawing at my insides.
He shakes his head back and forth. “You don’t need to make it right because that’s not within your power. We can’t change the past, Reese. We can only focus on the present and hope for a brighter future.”
I glance down at the love of my life lying lifeless in the hospital bed. I feel like I stole his future. And his present. He’s going to hate me.
My lower lip quivers as I turn back to Ted and ask, “So, what should I do?”
“You need to make him see himself the way you see him. The way his friends see him. And the way I see him.”
“I’ll…” I turn back to River and take in the dark blue bags under his eyes, the swollen bridge of his nose from Milo’s fist earlier, and the purple bruise along his jaw. “I’ll do my best.”
I just hope it’s enough.
“I know you will. And I know it’ll be enough because I know how much he cares about you. In fact, I’d be worried if it wasn’t for you, Reese. But now that I’ve met you, I’m not so worried anymore.”
The Darth Vader theme song cuts off our conversation. Ted scrubs his hand over his tired face before standing up and digging into his front pocket. “Riv’s mother is here. I’ll be back in a few.”
He raises his phone to his ear and mutters something into the phone, then disappears down the hall, leaving me alone with Riv.
Riv’s mother is here? The infamous Monet Cavier?
Lovely.
44
Reese
Hushed whispers echo near the entrance of River’s ICU room, but there’s an edge to them that makes my skin prickle with awareness. Unfortunately, I can only make out the higher-pitched comments, and they leave my molars aching from the strained pressure as I catch myself grinding them together.
“Get her out of this room.”
Silence.
“He doesn’t know what he wants.”
More silence.
“You can’t be serious. I’m his mother.”
Shit.
“He craves the spotlight just as much as I do. If he were awake right now, he’d kill to cash in on this.”
Finally snapping, the click-clack of heels ends the conversation as the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen enters the room like it’s the red carpet. If Jennifer Aniston had an evil twin sister with less class and more vanity, this would be her. Long, caramel-colored hair, make-up on point, baby-smooth skin, big breasts, tiny waist, long lacquered nails, tall black heels, and a resting bitch face that says, oh honey, I’m going to eat you for breakfast, make up the infamous Monet Cavier.
A sour taste fills my mouth, but I swallow it back.
“Why, hello. I don’t believe we’ve had an introduction, although my son has told me so much about you.” Ha! Liar. “I’m Monet Cavier.” She says her name like it’s a gift from God but doesn’t offer her hand for me to shake.
“Hi. I’m Reese. Reese Anders.”
“Reese. That’s a…”––she purses her lips––”pretty name. Perfect for a pretty girl.”
Why doesn’t that sound like a compliment?
“Uh…thank you?” I mutter. It takes everything inside of me not to cower under her attention, but I stay strong.
“You’re lucky this happened to him, you know,” she points out, waving her perfectly manicured hand toward her unconscious son.
What. The. Hell is wrong with this woman?
Seeing my disgusted shock, she grins before explaining, “Because now, he might actually be in your league.”