“Only when I cough.” I unscrew the lid and take a small drink.
“How often does that happen?”
I shrug. “Less often.”
“Look at you, finding the silver lining.” He pushes his knee against mine. “What are you doing up here?”
“Waiting for my dad. What are you doing?”
“Had to see my counselor about changing my major.”
“To what?”
“Computer engineering.” He reaches both hands in front of him, weaving his fingers together and stretching his arms. “I’m way more than just brawn, baby.”
“And so humble.”
Arlo laughs. “Humble is for those who fear failure. They don’t want to tell people because they’re unsure of themselves.”
“I don’t think that’s the definition you’ll find in the dictionary.”
His knee connects with mine again. “Seriously, though, how are you feeling?”
“Better than I probably should.”
“Is that your attempt at being humble? Because I’m not sure that was an answer.”
My lips tip upward with a grin. Arlo stopped by the hospital on three different occasions, only missing the final day because the team had flown to California. “I feel fine, honestly.”
“You aren’t still sore?”
I shrug. “My side’s a little sore still, but that’s it.”
“Your arm?” He glances at my sweatshirt covered arm like he can see the scar healing from where I’d cut my arm with the knife.
I pull up my sleeve, revealing the skin that they’d sewn back together. My stitches were removed on Friday, the tiny punctures from the thread created a Frankenstein appearance.
Arlo pulls his head back, mashing his lips together. “That looks like Halloween makeup.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Your brother’s still trying to figure out which asshole took pictures so he can kill them,” Arlo tells me, instantly causing one of the images in question to fill my thoughts. I haven’t asked a lot of questions, and Pax went crazy on Derek when he tried to visit the hospital, blaming him for the incident. My knowledge of the night has mostly been comprised of the article that made the back page of the local paper and its accompanying collage of haunting photos from that night. Few likely saw it, but those who matter most sadly did, facing an array of moments from that night I wish they didn’t have to see.
“I may not try to stop him this time.”
Arlo grins. “You shouldn’t.”
Dad’s door opens, and he looks around the corner where we’re seated. “I thought I heard voices. Arlo, how are you?” Dad moves forward, offering his hand to one of Paxton’s closest friends and another fellow football player for Brighton. “You had a great game the other day.”
He did. Arlo plays as a tight end, and Saturday, they used him as a receiver because California was a fast running team, making it necessary to get as many out onto the field as possible.
“Thanks, Dr. L.” Arlo stands, taking his hand.
“You ready to go, kiddo?” Dad turns his attention to me. “I’ve got some stuff I need to take home, but if you’re done with classes, we can jet.”
“Jet? Is that what your generation used to say?” Arlo asks.
Laughter bubbles in my chest, making a quick exit that sends me into another coughing fit.
Dad watches me, and though I can’t see him, I know worry and concern stain his thoughts. “Maybe we should get you checked out again?” he says as air once again finds its way back into my lungs, my chest heaving like I’ve sprinted a marathon.
I shake my head and take another drink of water. “They said this is normal.”
“They also said patients who nearly drown could get acute respiratory distress syndrome, and you sound like you’re dying each time you cough.”
I maim him with a glare. “You saw the X-rays and the echocardiogram and every other test. I’m fine.”
“You could be on one of those commercials to promote non-smoking,” Dad continues.
“Only if I get to drive myself there.”
He smiles, and it seems momentous. His ease with making a joke about the situation, giving me hope that he’s allowing this to become a part of our past rather than an ongoing present.
4
Raegan
I didn’t mean to show up forty-five minutes early, but the knowledge of seeing Lincoln has distracted me to the point I haven’t been able to focus on anything successfully.
As though on cue, Lincoln’s black truck parks beside me, and he slides out of the driver’s seat, making chaos rise within me.
I push open my door, meeting him on the sidewalk. He stares at me, his eyes making a slow trek across my face and down my body. It isn’t sexual. It’s purely a necessity I’m realizing. Mom still does it each time I walk into the room, like she needs to verify I’m still here and okay. I shove my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt, not rushing his assessment.
“How are you?” I ask when his eyes meet my shoulders on the second pass.
His eyes snap to mine, the familiar mask he wore for so long securely in place, making my heart beat too fast as that waltz starts over in my chest, spreading doubt as hope struggles to take the lead.
“I know you’re upset—”
“The wedding’s been postponed,” he interrupts me. “A big case was assigned, and so they’re delaying it for a month. You can still come if you want. I already checked, and that scientist you want to meet will be there.”
Rain starts to descend, a scattering of small drops that quickly increases, the drops getting fatter and faster, soaking my hair and jeans. Yet, he doesn’t make any attempt to move, and neither do I, the invisible cables I feel toward him securing me in place.
“I know you’re mad at me. I get it. I upset you, and I’m sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
He shakes his head. “What did you think was going to happen? I hit my best friend in the face for you.”
Another piece slides into the mostly empty puzzle of that night.
“This,” he waves a hand between us. “This isn’t me. I don’t do relationships. I don’t know how to be there for you when you look me straight in the eye and then try to kill yourself.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”
He shakes off my words with a swift shake of his head. “I like being around you, but this isn’t me. Relationships just aren’t my thing,” he repeats the sentiment like a rehearsed line.
My chest constricts, a sharp ache in the cavity where my heart belongs. “So, that’s it? You went from all into pulling back because of one night?”
“This moment would have happened sooner or later.”
“Better sooner, right? Borrowed time and all that?”
He glances up through his thick lashes. “I didn’t even come to visit you in the hospital. Why aren’t you mad at me?”
“Would it make this easier if I was?”
His jaw ticks as he raises his head, squaring his shoulders. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”