Coast (Kick Push Book 2) (The Road 3) (12 page)

verb

1. make an attempt or effort to do something.

I
sit with
Chaz, holding her hand until she falls asleep. When Becca left the room after Chazarae showed no signs of recognition, I was torn on whether to go after her or stay with Chaz. Obviously, I decided to stay. I didn’t want to, but I felt it more important that Chaz not feel overwhelmed. Like the nurse said, it was best we not push her. But now I’m sitting here wondering how it’s possible for her to remember my stupid skate tournament but not remember her own granddaughter.

I release her hand, making sure not to wake her, and kiss her forehead. Then I leave the room, phone in hand, ready to message Becca. But I don’t need to. She’s standing just outside the room, her back leaning against the wall.

“Hey, Becs,”

She fails at trying to force a smile. Then she’s in my arms, her tears soaking my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around me. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, because I don’t know what else to say and I don’t even really know what I’m apologizing for. For Chaz not knowing who she is? For not realizing something was wrong? For not finding her earlier? I don’t know. All I know is I’m
sorry
. But it doesn’t seem to matter because she’s crying harder now, silent sobs wracking her entire body. “Becs…” I rear back and hold her face in my hands. Her cheeks are wet, her eyes wetter. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

She chews on her lip to fight the trembling while her sad, desperate eyes meet mine. Then she shakes her head, her hand reaching for her phone.
There’s nothing we can do. She has no idea who I am.

I read her text, again and again, hoping it gives me time to come up with a response that will take away some of her pain. “I understand you’re hurting. Trust me, I do. And she might not know you now, but it’s just… she’s been through a lot.”

She knows you!

I swallow the knot in my throat and whisper, “She’s just known me longer. That’s all.”

But she’s my family.

Her eyes plead, begging for a response to somehow take away her pain, but the only thing I can think to say only elevates mine. “She’s
my
family, too, Becs.”

Her eyes drift shut, her hand covering her mouth.

I take a chance and step forward, tugging lightly on her top to get her attention. She opens her eyes, but she doesn’t look at me. “I know it’s hard,” I whisper, my mouth an inch from her ear. She drops her arm to her side, allowing me to come closer. My hand’s on her waist now, my thumb grazing the bare skin between her top and her jeans. I push aside the memories, the longing, the desire to have her this close always, and I swallow my nerves. “But as hard as it may be for us, it’s worse for her. She’s not going to understand what’s happening, so we need to be there for her, in any way we can.”

*     *     *

We sit next
to each other in the moonlit room on a small couch beneath a window—a couch similar to the one I slept in while my father lay in a bed just like the one Chazarae’s in now. Chazarae—a woman who saved me when I needed saving. I try hard not to think about it, not to remember the moments of despair caused by a man who’s no longer around. I try not to compare them—try not to choose which pain would be worse because she’s not close to death.
She can’t be
. And all of a sudden I’m crying. Again. Revealing tears I’d tried to keep hidden from Becca. It’s all I’ve been doing since I found Chazarae missing—
trying
.
Trying
to keep it together,
trying
to say and do all the right things at all the right times.
Trying
to justify why she’s here when she’s the last person who deserves it.
Trying
to ignore my feelings for Becca—now a million times more painful because she’s
here
. And no amount of
trying
in the past year since I’ve spoken to her has helped me shake my feelings for her. I try to keep my breaths even so she can’t hear my pain. But her hand on my arm proves she can hear it. I don’t acknowledge her touch because I’m supposed to be the strong one, and I don’t want her to see me fading, to see me cracking under the weight. Becca’s hand moves up my arm, the darkness hiding the motion, until she finds the back of my neck. “Josh,” she whispers and my breath catches, her lack of voice only making it worse.

The guilt returns. The guilt of my actions, of hers, of the moments spent in this same hospital, my broken heart in her hands while time stood still, waiting to see her. And now Chaz is here, because—“I should’ve been there,” I whisper, eyes snapping shut to fight back the tears. A second later, her lips are on my cheek, kissing away the tears, and God,
I’m pathetic
. Because the feel of her touch outweighs the shame of my emotions, and so I hold her to me. Even when her mouth’s no longer there, still, I hold her, needing her close. She must know that, sense it somehow because her body seems to relax. We end up lying on the couch, her body molded against me, my hand on her waist, her emerald eyes on mine. And in the semi-darkness of the room, in the silence that surrounds us, and the pain that keeps us together, I manage to find a moment of bravery in my otherwise fearful existence. “I missed you so much, Becs.”

*     *     *

At some point,
Becca drifts off to sleep, her breaths warming my chest. I don’t sleep. I
can’t.
Night turns to morning, the occasional visit from a nurse breaking up the silence, bar the constant beeping of the monitors. Then Chaz stirs, moans escaping her before she’s fully come to.

I peel Becca off of me, trying not to wake her, and move over to Chaz, hoping,
praying
, she’s okay. Chaz blinks a few times, getting used to the morning light drifting through from the window. She smiles when she sees me. “I thought it was a nightmare,” she whispers.

“It’ll be over soon.” She looks around the room as I ask, “Do you need anything, ma’am?”

She reaches for the pitcher of water on the nightstand, but I stop her, pour some into a plastic cup, and help her to sit up before handing it to her. She pauses, the straw halfway to her lips when she sees Becca on the couch, her body curled into a ball, wearing my hoodie I’d forced on her because I knew she was cold. She’s always cold.

Chaz’s eyes snap to mine, her smile barely contained. “I almost forgot about her,” she whispers, placing the cup back on the tray. Chaz sits up higher, moving the pillows behind her before motioning to a chair next to her bed. I sit down, taking her offered hands, my heart swelling and squeezing at the pure joy on her face. “How long have you and she been together, and why did you hide it from me?”

My stomach drops, my gaze trailing from her to a still-sleeping Becca and I don’t respond.

“She’s so beautiful, Joshua,” Chaz whispers, her voice laced with excitement. “And those eyes…”

I don’t know what to say. What to tell her that won’t do any damage to her emotional state, so I press a button on the control attached to her bed and page a nurse, an action I’m all too familiar with.

—Becca—

Hands on my
shoulders, shaking gently, wake me from my sleep. Josh’s eyes are the first thing I see—dark and tired and full of sadness—the same way they’ve been every time he’s looked at me since the night of my “incident.” I miss the joy in them, the laughter, the love I used to get lost in. I miss
him
. I wanted to tell him that last night when he’d said it to me while his arms were wrapped around me. But my throat was worn, and reaching for my phone meant moving away from him, and neither of us wanted that. So I searched his gaze, while he searched mine, and I hoped that he’d be able to
see
it.

“Your grams is awake,” he whispers.

I look over his shoulder to the nurse attending to Grams and then back at Josh, my lips parting, my silent question hanging heavy between us. He shakes his head, his gaze dropping. “I’m sorry. She still…” His voice fades, the truth in his answer left unspoken.
She still doesn’t remember me.

“I’m going to hang around here if you need to go home. I won’t leave her side.”

I sit up and reach for the phone in my bag.
I’m not going anywhere.

“Okay.”

Did you sleep at all?

He shakes his head again.

Maybe you should go get some rest.

He licks his lips before rubbing his eyes. “Even if I left, I couldn’t sleep. Not until I know what’s wrong with her.”

I’ll go find us some coffee
, I type, offering a supportive smile.

He shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out some cash just as the nurse says, “She’s fallen asleep again. I have to monitor her for a while so why don’t you both go? Get something to eat, too. I don’t think either of you have left the room since you got here.”

Josh raises his eyebrows. “It’s probably not a bad idea.”

*     *     *

Josh leads the
way, hands in his pockets, head lowered. He doesn’t look for signs or ask for directions. It’s like he has the entire hospital mapped out. I wonder for a moment exactly how much time he’s spent in here. As if reading my thoughts, he murmurs, “When my dad was still able to eat, he used to swear that the hospital food would end up being the cause of his death, so I spent a lot of time at the cafeteria here getting him what he wanted. Then he got sicker, and in my mind it was my fault because it’s hospital food for a reason, right? It’s healthy and it’s what patients need to get better. So one day, I refused to get him the egg sandwich he wanted and I practically shoved the hospital food down his throat. The next day, he was no longer able to swallow on his own.” He laughs once, but it’s sad, broken. “Sometimes I wonder if he did it just to spite me. Because he was that damn stubborn. He went three days without food before his body finally shut down.” His steps falter before stopping completely. Then he turns to me. “This is so morbid, I’m sorry. Your grams isn’t…”

“I know,” I mouth, ignoring the heaviness of my heart at his words.

He starts moving again, his hands still in his pockets. “I spoke to the nurse while you were sleeping. There’s a specialist on duty tomorrow. Dr. Richards. He’ll be running all the tests and talking to your grams, so we won’t know anything until he gets here. Right now, she’s not in any pain. She has a slight cold, but her lungs are clearing. I guess it’s just her memory.” He glances at me quickly before looking away. “I’m sorry she doesn’t remember you, Becs. Especially considering you’re so damn hard to forget.”

I wonder if it’s possible for time to stand still.

For the seconds of the clock to just STOP.

For minutes to slow to a pause and then nothing exists.

Nothing but two beating hearts.

Mine and his.

Through forced smiles and encouraged actions, I’d been moving forward.

One kick at a time.

Time after time.

Day after day.

Night after night.

But now I realize I’d been numb.