Changing Forever (28 page)

“Emery. Emery White,” I reply nervously, tapping my fingertips along the top of her desk.

“You’re not on my list. Are you family?”

“Not exactly. He’s my boyfriend. I don’t think his family is coming, at least not tonight anyway.” I tuck some hair behind my ear and watch her nervously. If she doesn’t let me see him, I’m going to have to find another way.

I can’t leave him.

Her eyes skim my features before she picks up the receiver. “Have a seat. I’ll make a call and see what I can do.”

I step back before she has time to change her mind. “Thanks,”

I mumble, running my hand up and down my purse strap.

I stare up at the old tube TV and wait nervously while that last play flashes through my mind over and over again.

I watched for many agonizing minutes as the medics worked on him. I’ve never felt more helpless. All I could do was pray that things weren’t as bad as they looked.

They couldn’t get him up after working on him for a few minutes. The only thing that gave me a sliver of hope was a simple nod of his head. But as I watched the cart come out to the field, my chest tightened. Never a good sign.

The wait seems long, but it probably isn’t more than a few minutes before the receptionist calls me back to the desk. “You can go in for about an hour. Visiting hours end at nine.”

I nod, grateful that I get the chance to see him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the nurse. She said he could use a little company,” she pauses, a slight smile forming on her face, “He’s in room 214.”

Bolting down the small hallway, I find the elevator and push the up arrow. I find myself waiting again. I hate that it’s taking me so long to get to him.

The elevator dings, and two people step out before I’m able to get in. I press the two button and wait one more time. As soon as it opens, I rush to find his door, reading the numbers twice to make sure I’m in the right place.

I press against the wood and step inside, staring at his motionless form. I guess I had this vision that I’d walk in and he’d walk right over to me, telling me everything is going to be okay. That’s not how it’s going to play out.

As I walk closer, I have to cover my mouth to hold back the tears begging to fall. Drake looks so helpless lying there, but when I look at his face, it looks like every other time I’ve watched him sleep.

A voice from behind startles me. “He’s going to be out of it for a while. He was in quite a bit of pain when they brought him in.”

A nurse dressed in light blue scrubs comes up beside me, wrapping one hand around his wrist while counting the seconds on her watch. “Is he going to be okay?”

She smiles sympathetically. “The doctor should be in shortly to talk to him. He’ll be able to answer any questions you have.”

“Thank you.”

She squeezes my shoulder, leaving the room without saying another word.

The last couple hours have been so crazy, I didn’t realize how late it was getting, or how tired and achy my body was from pushing my way through the crowd to get out of the stadium.

I spot the wooden chair in the corner of the room and slide it close to Drake’s bed. Just as I sit down, his eyes flutter open. He stares at me, appearing confused. “Hey,” I say, wrapping my hand around his.

He just watches me, eyes filled with pain. I’d do anything to take it all away, to make it my own.

“Just rest, okay.” I gently squeeze his hand, running mine across the top of it.

His eyes drift shut again, and I’m content to rest my cheek against the white sheets that cover his bed and watch him.

I’m not sure how long I slept, but when I open my eyes, Drake is watching me. I’ve missed those blue eyes of his.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, entwining our fingers.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the door clicks open, interrupting him. “Good morning. I’m Dr. Gates, and I’ll be the one observing you while you’re here.”

My focus stays on Drake, watching as he wrinkles his brow. For the first time I notice the dark circles under his eyes and wonder how much he slept last night.

A heavy hand covers my shoulder. “Can I have a moment with our patient? I need to examine him.”

I’m nervous about leaving him, but he gently squeezes my fingers to let me know he’ll be okay. “I’ll wait outside,” I say, leaning in to press my lips to his cheek.

I step out in the hallway and rest my back against the wall. There’s no way they’re going to get me any farther away from him than this. A few nurses pass me. Maybe I should feel self-conscious over my wrinkled clothes and tousled hair, but that’s one of the last things on my mind. I fell asleep watching Drake, and nobody woke me up to let me know that visiting hours were over.

Maybe they wanted to, and realized it was pointless to even try. My dad always tells me I have stubborn written all over me. I’m going to do what I want to do, not matter what.

It feels like hours pass before Drake’s door opens. I glance up at the doctor, noticing how much his expression darkened from what it had been before I left the room.

Standing, I ask, “Can I go back in?”

Dr. Gates opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it again. He looks down at the floor then back at me. “You can go back in.” I walk around him, pressing my palm to the cool wood. Taking a long, deep breath, I push against the door and hesitantly step in.

At first, the mood doesn’t feel that much different than when I left, but as I move closer to Drake’s bed, his body language tells me something is wrong. The pain’s evident on his brow, the tension showing on his jaw. Whatever the doctor had to say … he didn’t like it. Which tells me I’m probably going to hate it.

“Drake,” I whisper, covering his forearm with my hand. I can feel the tension even in that.

He swallows hard, but his eyes stay locked on the tiled ceiling. “
You need to go.” His voice is so devoid of any emotion. My heart always aches when I hear tears in someone’s voice, but something about this cuts a little deeper.

“What?” I ask, my fingers digging into his skin.

He shakes his head. “We can’t do this anymore, Emery.”

He hasn’t said my full name in forever. It feels so impersonal, like miles worth of space is coming between us.

“Do what, Drake?”

“Us,” he says, grinding his teeth together.

I touch the base of my neck, searching for the familiar silver locket. I’ve worn it every day since I was four. It’s a constant, a source of comfort. I’m searching for words, but he beats me to it.

“Why do you bother with that thing? She’s gone, Emery, and she’s not coming back. She made her choice.”

My chin quivers as I rub the warm metal between my fingers. “Why are you talking like this?”

For the first time, his eyes make contact with mine. “Because it’s true. You can’t hold onto the past forever … it’s fucking with your head. If you really want to be someone, you need to grow up. Move on.”

My eyes widen and fill with unshed tears. This is not how I pictured tonight, or ever. He can’t really mean any of this. My voice shakes uncontrollably when I speak again. “Drake, I think you need to go back to sleep. We can talk after your drugs wear off.”

“The drugs have nothing to do with this. Don’t you get it? I’m saying everything I should have said weeks ago. We’re too different. Too fucked up. This wasn’t ever going to work.”

“But last night—”

“We both got carried away. We’re both passionate people, Emery. Shit happens.”
His voice gives me nothing. No sympathy. No I’m sorry. It’s as cold as a Midwest winter.

“So what was I to you? Nothing?” I pause, using my sleeve to wipe the tears from my cheek. It feels like my mom all over again. I feel like I’m never enough. “If you tell me I meant absolutely nothing to you, I’ll walk out that door, Drake, but know that when I’m gone,
we are done
! There are no more second chances. We’ve done this too many times.”

My chest is absolutely flaming, a deep searing pain, as I wait for him to say something. When he still can’t look at me, the agony builds. This isn’t going to end the way I want.

He swallows hard. “You were just another curve in the road. Another thing holding me back from what I should be concentrating on. You’re the reason I’m here, Emery. You.”

Hurt and agony are joined by anger. If he weren’t already laid up in a hospital bed, I’d find a way for him to get there. For the first time in my life, I feel used. Before Drake, I was smart enough not to give anyone the opportunity to break me like this.

The anger boils inside of me. I’m pissed at him for what he’s doing to me and pissed at myself for letting us get to the point where he could have this effect on me.

“Fuck you, Drake! Fuck you!”

Closing his eyes, he shoots the final bullet into my heart. “I was trying so hard to impress you, so hard to be the type of guy you’d want, and this is where it got me. Stuck in a fucking hospital bed.”

Realizing my hand is still on his arm, I quickly remove it, noticing the marks I left behind. He deserves it and so much more. I walk backward, intent on getting as far away from this place as I can. Intent on never seeing him again.

“Have a nice life, and when you go back to having meaningless flings and you’re lonely … remember that you’re the one who pushed me away.” He grimaces at my words, and all I can think is that he deserves it. I swing the door open, wishing there was a way to make the stupid thing slam. Never in my life has something hurt this much. What did I do to deserve this?

The hospital staff move around, business as usual, nurses pacing up and down the hallways, phones ringing, machines buzzing. I feel like I don’t belong here, or anywhere anymore.

I
CAN
’
T
WATCH
HER
LEAVE
. It hurts too fucking much.

There are two parts of my life I was sure of yesterday: football and Emery.

Now they’re both gone … and I don’t have a fucking clue what’s left of me. I spent years living in this dream, whether it was mine or his, and now there’s nothing left of it. All because of one play. One decision that ended my dream, and any chance I had at a normal life.

They always say you should fight for your dreams. Well, I fought hard, and now all I have is the memory of a dream that will never be.

That’s all I got … a bunch of broken, scattered dreams.

When the door finally clicks shut, I wince and open my eyes. My heart aches something brutal, because everything I just said is wrong. It’s a lie. But it’s necessary. There’s nothing left of me. I can’t offer anything to anyone.

When my dad died, I didn’t have any control over it. I had control over what happened between Emery and me, and it hurts so much more because of that.

This pain is self-inflicted.

And honestly, right now, I’d rather be dead. A part of me is dead.

I didn’t mean a word I said to Emery, but it’s what’s best for her. She has so much life left in front of her, and she doesn’t need me holding her back. I just couldn’t be honest with her. I couldn’t tell her the real reason I was letting her go, because she would have stayed. I know that girl too well.

I wish I didn’t know what I know. I wish I hadn’t heard what I heard.

“How did your night go?” I heard as I drifted in and out of sleep. I look to my side to see Emery’s head lying next to me on the bed—her hair covering most of her face.

“It wasn’t too bad. We took in a couple of new patients, this one included, but both have been sleeping most of the night,” the other female says. There’s only a tiny bit of light shining through the window in the door, but I can see the two nurses standing near the small whiteboard.

“What’s the story with this one?”

The one sighs audibly before answering. “He plays for the Hawks. Drake Chambers, quarterback. He took a knee to the back, and the preliminary tests show some damage that may be irreparable.”

“What kind of damage?”

When the taller nurse replies again, she lowers her voice, but I can still hear her. “Spine injury. He may never walk again, but I’m waiting for Dr. Gates to come in and examine him.”