“Emily,” he whispers, but I don’t look at him. I can’t take my focus off Nana. What is she doing?
“I’m going to him,” she says. “You can’t stop me.”
“Nana, you aren’t going anywhere,” I say, but this dials up the determination in her face. With her silver hair loose and wild, missing its nightly curlers, her expression screams defiance.
“You will not hold me back.”
I don’t know what she’s talking about, and I hear the question in my name from Jess at my back. His deep voice draws my grandmother’s attention.
“You can’t have him.”
My brows pinch. Does she mean Jess? Does she mean I can’t have him? Dear God, she’s not making sense.
“Who, Nana? Who can’t I have?”
“John. He loves me,” Nana hisses as she continues down the steps. I move as if to meet her in the middle until a hand circles my wrist.
“How does she know my name?”
I turn my head, only for a second. “Your name is John?”
“My full name is John James. Jess is a nickname.” I barely start to process this when I look up just as Nana’s foot misses a step. The thump resonates around me, and I cry out as I reach for her. Instantly, I’m tugged backward at the same time, and I helplessly watch as Nana tumbles toward me. I’m pushed to the side at the same time Nana crashes to the bottom of the staircase. Jess reaches out as though he intended to catch her, but her fall was too fast even though it appeared to happen frame by frame.
I scream, dropping to my knees beside her.
“Don’t touch her,” Jess warns. “She might have broken something.”
Nana lays in an awkward position, and I just know it’s bad. Sobs choke me, and tears stream down my face, but I ignore them, continuing to call out her name as if she can hear me.
I don’t move, but I sense Jess speaking to someone. Then he’s talking to me, but I don’t hear him.
Birthday wishes?
Please. Please God, don’t let this be the end.
Rule 10
Words of wisdom are never late.
[Emily]
The next few hours are a blur. I accompany Nana in the ambulance, and the ride feels like it takes forever because the closest hospital is three towns over. Joe Carpenter arrived on the scene and promised to follow me with Jess. I don’t know why he’s coming, and I don’t think about it again until I find him in the waiting room. They won’t let me stay with Nana while they run the initial tests.
Possible hip fracture.
Definitely cracked ribs.
Broken arm.
Concern for internal organs.
I need to call Grace, is my first thought, but it’s the last thing I want to do. She’s pregnant. She doesn’t need this stress.
As I near the waiting area, Jess stands. His face is wiped of all color. He moves as if to wrap me in his arms, but for some reason, I don’t want his touch. I don’t want his sympathy. I can’t melt into someone like him. Solid. Good. Permanent.
“You aren’t staying,” he’d said against my mouth, like he wasn’t just confirming my schedule but wanted me to go.
Yet you still kissed him, Emily.
My body is so traitorous. The cells of my skin tingle like sparks and flashes of electricity, but I don’t have the energy to connect. I need to hold myself together. It’s what I do best.
“Because you’re efficient,” he’d say.
Because if I don’t, I’ll break.
If I think too much on all that I don’t have, I might fracture. Like a broken vase held together with glue, I try to keep the jagged pieces connected as best I can.
I might be passed up for the next position at City’s Edge.
I might not get that story I want so bad.
I might never find a man who wants me first.
Jess stares at me, his face pleading with mine, but I don’t know what he wants from me. I have nothing to offer. It’s been the case so many times. I’m good but not good enough.
“They’re admitting Nana.” It’s all I say.
“What can I do?” he whispers, and I want to list the many things, none of which I’d ever share with him.
Love me. Keep me.
I shake my head. “I need to call my sister.” And my boss. There’s no way I’m leaving now.
“I’m so sorry this happened. If we hadn’t been—”
It wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s where he’s leading. If we hadn’t been making out like hungry teens, I might have heard her earlier. I might have sensed her moving around. I might have caught her at the top of the stairs instead of watching her fall down them.
“Why did you grab me?” Agitation fills my voice.
“What do you mean?”
“You shoved me to the side. I could have stopped her fall.”
“She would have crushed you,” Jess hisses with concern.
“I could have broken her fall.”
“At what expense? She would have hurt you as well.”
“Well, I’d prefer that to this.” I wave out a hand, indicating where we stand.
“Emily,” Joe Carpenter’s authoritative voice interjects. “Jess is right. Elizabeth could have hurt you had you stood in her way. It could have been even worse for her. The EMTs think it’s a solid break at the hip. They don’t see any neck injury, so now it’s only a matter of checking her head.”
Her head. She’s already not quite right there.
“Which means she could have a concussion or worse,” I snap.
“I know you’re upset,” Joe states firmly. With his fire chief voice, he continues, “Let’s take a seat.”
“I don’t want to sit down,” I stammer, sounding like a petulant child. “I-I need a minute.” Turning on my heels, I head down the hall. I disappear around a corner and quickly realize I’ve come to a dead end. Pressing my back against the wall, I take several deep breaths, spin around, and lay my forehead on the wallpaper. I notice a piece coming unfurled near the handrail.
My thoughts scatter with nothing specific in my head when I feel hands on my hips. I spin, despite the familiarity of his touch. I know it’s him, yet I’m ready to snap like he’s a stranger, unauthorized to touch me. But once I twist, I can’t help myself. My arms lift and I wrap them around his neck, tugging him to me as I clutch at him.
I can’t lose him next.
It’s the strangest thought but not entirely unwarranted. My father left when I was a child. My mother died when I was twelve. Grace moved away. Grandpa passed away ten years ago, and now this. Losing Nana would be the last straw. I don’t want to lose any more people from my life.
I hold him, and he embraces me back, one hand splayed across my spine and the other at the base of my neck.
“It’s all my fault,” he mutters. For some reason, this upsets me as much as if he’d said we shouldn’t have been kissing.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, pulling back from him, but he isn’t letting me leave his arms. My hands come to his shoulders, pressing at them as he growls.
“Don’t push me away.”
There’s no point in pulling him forward.