Summer of Supernovas (33 page)

I’m not sure how long we’ve been on the couch when I finally awaken. Long enough for the tingles to recede and for dawn’s first light to pierce the living-room curtains.

My head feels stuffed with wool and my eyes are gritted with sand. Grant’s arm is draped over my waist and his breath has the slow steadiness of sleep’s rhythm.

I love Grant.

The thought startles me like a thunderclap. And I’m not joyous, or happy, or any of those things someone in love is suppose to feel. Instead, I’m terrified.

Because loving Grant compromises a lifetime of beliefs. Worse, it compromises my mother’s legacy, the promise I made. I squeeze my eyes shut.

My God, what have I done?

The grandfather clock bongs, echoing six times through the house. Grant doesn’t stir.

Carefully as I can, I roll out from beneath his arm and yank on my T-shirt. His lips are parted, head half-mashed into the cushion, deep in a blissful sleep. His breath is slow and even. I so badly want to kiss him.

But enough damage has been done.

Tiptoeing out of the room and upstairs, I get ready in record time. I’ve even put on the jeans I hate. Besides, it feels too wrong to put on one of my mother’s dresses after last night.

I let out a quiet exhale when I see Grant hasn’t moved. Crouching down, I flip over some junk mail and scribble out four words:

I’m sorry, I can’t.

I bite my knuckle to keep the sorrow from emerging, before adding one last line.

Please forgive me.

And I don’t give myself time for second guesses. I bolt for the door, and quietly shut it behind me.

I
rina arrives at the hospital and doesn’t ask a single question about what transpired between Grant and me. She does food runs and coffee runs, and I have to practically shove her out the door to get her to go to work.

I fritter away the time reading to Gram, playing solitaire, and watching TV. Eventually I’m so restless I’m ready to crawl out of my skin. Her lovely lashes don’t flutter. Hope is such a fragile thing. And mine becomes increasingly delicate and breakable with the passing hours that Gram is under sedation.

The doctors still say she’s stable and breathing more on her own, but we won’t know until she’s awake if there’s neurological damage the tests don’t show.

I hug her and kiss her good night before I go. And pray tomorrow will be different and I’ll have my gram again.

My mind is a puddle of mud. I can’t remember where I’ve parked and end up wandering aimlessly until I spot the Buick in all its Buicky glory.

But some part of my brain must be functioning, because I find my way home, and when I do, Seth’s parked at the curb. The streetlights are on and glance off the spotless, shiny Lexus.

My foot barely touches the ground and Seth is already out of the vehicle striding toward me. I plant my feet, preparing for the worst.

Seth’s pace loses steam and he slows. He gnaws his lower lip. “Jesus, you look like hell.”

“I know.”

“Listen, Wil.” He jams his hands in his pockets, then takes them out. “I’m so sorry about everything. I would’ve told you, I swear. In fact, I was gonna tell you after dinner the other night.” His eyes beg for understanding.

I adjust my glasses, totally thrown by whatever it is he’s trying to tell me.

“I was wrong, okay? It was totally messed up and I was wrong. I can see that now. If I could go back in time, I would’ve done things differently. But when you told me those things about your mom…
shit.
I just lost my nerve. I—I couldn’t.”

He
was wrong? How can he be wrong if
I’m
the one who spent the night with Grant? I don’t follow. My thoughts are so scrambled, it’s possible these things should make sense and I’m just not connecting the dots. I fold my arms over my chest. “Seth, I don’t—”

“I
know
I shouldn’t have lied to you, but you were turning down every guy in the club! And then that chart was just hanging out of your purse so…I looked. I figured it was the only way you’d give me a shot. I thought if you got to know me, my sign wouldn’t matter. Because you’d see how amazing we were together. How much fun we could have.”

The asphalt shifts underneath me, making everything go lopsided. I brace a hand on the Buick’s trunk. “What?”

Seth nervously rubs at his neck. “I assumed Grant told you, and that’s why…that’s why you…” He curses under his breath. “I thought that’s why you weren’t returning my calls.”

“No…I’ve been at the hospital.” My voice is eerily calm when I rediscover it. “When is your birthday?”

“Wil, it isn’t important. What’s important is how you feel about me and—”

“Yes!” I explode. “It’s important, Seth! Tell me your birthday!”

“A-April eighteenth,” he stammers.

And I can’t move. I can’t stop the high-pitched ringing in my ears. The world is no longer lopsided. It has completely tipped over and crashed down in a way I cannot make sense of. “So you’re not…you were never…”

Seth was never a Sagittarius.

My paralysis breaks long enough for me to stagger to the porch steps. I sink down, dropping my head to my hands.

“You’re an Aries,” I whisper dully.

Dear God, I got it wrong. I had it all wrong. I saw what I wanted to see in Seth. I wanted to fall in love with him. I wanted him to be my Sagittarius.
Desperately.

Could the same be said of Grant being a Pisces? Was I only seeing what I wanted to see because it kept him unattainable? Is it possible I’ve gotten his sign all wrong, too? But no, I had proof. I—

These questions make my head hurt. And there’s already a surplus of pain competing for my attention right now.

Seth slides next to me on the warped step. Desperation clings to his words. “Please…talk to me, Wil. Let me try to make it up to you. Give me one more chance. Because what I feel for you…I’ve never felt for anyone.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes as Seth tries to put a consoling arm around me. “No”—I shrug away—“don’t. You won’t want to touch me when I tell you this.” I hug my knees. “Gram had a severe heart attack the other night; she’s still in recovery. That’s why I was at the hospital.”

He rubs a hand over his face and moans, “Oh man, and I dumped all this on you tonight. Tonight when you’re dealing with everything else.” Seth lowers his hand. “But why didn’t you call? I would’ve come. You didn’t have to do this all on your own.”

“I didn’t. Irina came and so did…Grant.”

“Grant knew?” Seth’s nostrils flare. “Well, why the hell didn’t
he
tell me?”

“I asked him not to,” I reply quietly, and tilt my head skyward. There is a clear view of the Milky Way tonight. The shimmering band is as far away as I wish I could be.

Anger rolls off Seth in suffocating clouds. “So Grant was there for you at the hospital. Was it
just
the hospital or something else?” I can almost hear the enamel being ground off his teeth as he waits for an answer.

“Seth, don’t. Don’t put the blame all on him. It was my—”

“Stop looking at the damn stars and talk to me, Wil! Did Grant stay here last night? Is that why he didn’t come home?”

I fix my gaze on Seth and steel myself for the wrath sure to follow. “Yes.”

But what follows isn’t at all what I expect.

Seth’s eyes glisten. He looks completely and utterly…crushed. I expected the anger, the rage, the injustice of it all. But I didn’t expect this, to see him so, so
wounded.

My heart folds in on itself; my body follows suit
.
And if it is in the realm of possibility to feel worse, then I do.

He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I knew it!” He drops his hands. “So, how long has it been going on? How long have you been sleeping with my brother?”

I hug my legs closer. “We didn’t sleep together.”

“Wow, well, that’s a
huge
relief,” he says wryly. His hands hang limp between his knees. “You know what’s ironic?
I’m
usually the one who struggles with being faithful. Do you have any idea how many girls throw themselves at me at the club? Hell, I don’t even have to try. Fish in a damn barrel! But for the first time, I didn’t even see them, Wil.” He lifts his shining eyes. “I only saw you.”

I nod, completely gutted. “I disappointed you.” I rise, gripping the railing like a lifeline in a sea of grief. “But you disappointed me, too. I guess neither of us is what we thought we were.” I turn to the front door.

“So we’re done? That’s it?” Seth barks, anger catching up to the shock.

My body crumples with exhaustion. “Seth, what else is there?”

He’s looming behind me, and while his movements were quiet, the subtle scent of his cologne gives him away. “I need to know, Wil. I need to know if I was just some guy who fit the mold…or if you actually ever even cared about me.”

“I cared,” I rasp. “Of course I cared.”

“But you love him. You
love
my brother, don’t you?”

Streetlights glance off the house key in my hand, calling to mind the little silver key Grant once gave me.
As long as you don’t go losing your heart, you’ll always know where to find it,
he said.

I swallow. “I love Gram. And right now she’s lying in Carlisle Community Hospital.”

“I’m sorry.” His words are laced with shame.

“Goodbye, Seth.”

And for the second time today, I am closing the door on a Walker.

Morning comes. The sun spills across the skyline, warming the city of Carlisle. And the one person I’m desperate to talk to can’t even hear me. But I talk anyway, all Wednesday morning and afternoon, like Gram’s hospital room is a friggin’ confessional. I pour everything out to her. The glorious mess I’ve made, my ramshackle Fifth House, and how I’m tempted to ship myself off to a deserted island and avoid all this in the future.

Eventually I nod off in the chair, my arm slung across her middle, head down on her bed. I’ve napped long enough for my arm to fall asleep and my neck to develop a hellacious kink. But neither of those discomforts are what cause me to stir. It’s the hand on my head, light as a feather, stroking my hair.

I jerk upright. “Gram?
Gram!
”

She can’t speak. Too many tubes run in and out of her. I punch the call button eighty times, laughing and crying at the sight of her sparkling blue eyes. Not just the sight of her eyes, it’s what’s behind them.
Recognition.
And I don’t need a single test to confirm what my heart already knows.

Because I see Gram—
my
Gram.

I am whole again.

At the end of this week from hell, Gram’s finally back home where she belongs. Recuperating, and wondering why in blue blazes the kitchen door is scratched up. The EMTs ended up taking it off to fit through with the gurney. Of course, I had it rehung before she got home, but leave it to Gram for no detail to go unnoticed.

While there are still plenty of follow-up appointments, those are small potatoes after the scare of almost losing her. It’s a miracle to have her back at all. The doctors believe she must have lost consciousness just moments before I found her. The CPR saved her from the damage that might’ve been. So her mind remains sharp as ever.