Last time. “After the townhouse fire?”
She nods. “Children from a local school paint them every year, and then they’re auctioned during a charity event for the hospital. According to Farrow, it’s all for show because the winners of the auction just donate the paintings to the hospital anyway.”
With our hands clasped together, Jane and I view the children’s artwork. I focus in on the messy drawing of The Little Mermaid. The eyes are off center. Her hair is purple. I love it. “They’re beautiful,” I breathe.
“Insider tip,” Jane says. “This is the most private hallway in the hospital.”
I glance at her, and we share a soft, fading smile. Even though she seized my hand first, I hold onto Jane’s stronger to comfort my cousin. “Jane, I’m…I’m so, so sorry. That…I didn’t know…I tried calling…I…” Tears build in both our eyes. “I wish it would’ve been me.”
Jane takes my hand in both of hers. “He would have rather it been him.” We’re both crying. I put my other hand on our hands. Face-to-face with Jane, our tears fall to our knuckles and fingers. Then slip, making wet droplets on the ground.
She breathes out, “Banks would have done the same for me. Don’t carry this with you, Sulli.”
“This is different. I’ve been fucking awful to you.” My voice cracks. “I’ve avoided you—and Thatcher knew I was icing you out. And all the kind things he said to me…and all that I didn’t get to say to him…”
“He knew you weren’t awful to me,” Jane cries, neither of us letting go of each other, not even to wipe our cheeks. “I knew you weren’t being awful. You just needed time…and it hurt a little.” Her breezy voice fractures.
God. I cry harder.
She cries more. “I just envisioned us being closer.”
“I know,” I cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You’ve always been so maternal and sweet, and you’re going to be the best mom around, Jane. The absolute fucking best, and I just see the world constantly telling me I’m the worst in comparison. Bottom fucking tier, and looking at you, being with you, I was just confronting that stupid insecurity—”
“It’s not stupid,” she cuts in, shaking her head vigorously. “I’m terrified of motherhood too. You know who I’m going to be compared to? My mom. The most brilliant mother who kicked ass raising seven children in stilettos while owning her own world-renowned fashion company. I’m not her.”
I didn’t realize Jane would share the same insecurity. Silent tears keep cascading. “It fucking sucks.”
“It really does,” Jane says in a broken voice. “Raising cats hasn’t prepared me at all. I’m not a good disciplinarian. I love being a sibling to my siblings because I don’t have to be strict like my parents. I’m too soft—” She starts bawling again. “And I thought…I imagined Thatcher would level us out as a team, as parents. He’d be tough but loving in all the ways I’m not.”
I let go of her hands and wrap my arms around her. She hugs me as though her legs are about to buckle. But I use all my strength and keep her on her feet. I keep her upright. I keep her against me.
Jane cries into my shoulder.
I touch the back of her frizzy hair. “He’s not gone, Jane. He’s a fighter. I know he is because he’s best friends with Akara and Banks—the three of them are fighters, and they don’t go down that easily. They just don’t. He’s coming back to you and your daughter. And you’ll both raise her together, and she’ll grow up alongside my daughter or son.”
Just like Thatcher wanted.
Just like I want.
Just like I can tell Jane wants. Her tears slow with deep breaths. After several minutes, she’s able to stand more on her own. We gently pull apart, wiping our cheeks. I rub my nose with my forearm.
I’ve never fully felt a part of the Moffy-Jane friendship. They share such a deep fucking bond. Charlie has always been closer to them, since they all went to high school together. Beckett and I were the fourth and fifth wheels, the home-schoolers. The goal-seekers.
But I can’t be afraid of stepping into a bigger friendship with Moffy and Jane. I can’t be afraid of the possibility of growing apart from Beckett. Change is hard. And I just want to sink into it. Not fight it anymore.
I rub my wet cheek. “I love you,” I tell Jane, “and we will be close. No more hiding from you, I promise.”
“You don’t know how happy that makes me,” Jane says tearfully, like she wishes she could be happier in this moment.
Oh Jane. My heart is breaking.
We’re about to hug again.
“Jane!” Farrow is running down the hallway. We both turn, my blood goes cold. Is it good or bad news? I can’t fucking tell. Farrow passes Donnelly and Oscar without a glance. He’s wearing medical scrubs and he takes Jane’s hand. “Come with me.”
57
AKARA KITSUWON
If I know anything about Thatcher Moretti—it’s that he’s made to last. Ever since I’ve met him, he’s loved The Iliad, and every now and then, I’ll hear him and Banks speaking about Greek mythology. Athena and frigging Aphrodite—but mostly, Thatcher talks of warriors and the lessons behind myths, and nights like tonight, I see someone who’s withstood the hardships of time, just like the ancient stories he reads.
I lean an arm on the doorway of a hospital room in Philly General.
Thatcher lies on a bed, clicking a TV remote and scrolling through channels on mute. An IV line pumps him with pain meds and fluids.
My scuffed Vans squeak on the hospital tile.
He’s staring at the TV. “Took you long enough.”
Thatcher sees me in his peripheral. I begin to smile, knowing he’d spot me, but I just think, he’s the same Thatcher I’ve always known.
He’s alive.
A few hours have passed since Thatcher could have visitors. The last of the Cobalts and Morettis left about ten minutes ago. Now just a single person from each family remains.
Jane sleeps on a tufted chaise in the corner. Banks is passed out on a double-wide cushioned chair, his legs propped up on an ottoman. His dad found him a sedative, but I woke him up once visitors could see Thatcher. Banks and Jane were the first to see him.
Right next to Banks, Sulli is curled up and snoozing against his chest.
I come forward towards him, quiet enough not to wake the others. “I wanted to give your family a chance to visit.”
His brows furrow, his gaze on mine. “You are my family, Akara.”
His words push through me, and the tension behind losing his friendship just unravels. Like a twisted, gnarled knot that finally unspools and loosens. Something easy rests between us. Knowing he wants me here. Knowing that we’re not so far gone, him and me. Me and him.
Knowing there’s a way back.
There always has been, Nine.
I smile a little more and grip the handlebar to his hospital bed. “Family perks from being in a triad with your brother.”
He tries to lift himself up higher on the bed. “You had family perks before you got with Banks and Sulli.” He looks to me again. “You’ve always had them. I’m just a fucking asshole—”