Through the glass, I watch Olivia, her body is tight, rigid. Whatever she’s hearing on the phone, it isn’t good.
I stay there, silently watching the girl I once would’ve died for, the same girl I’m now trying to figure out how to love again.
Twenty-Seven
Olivia
I end the call,a call I didn’t want to get for a while, but I did. The phone still in my hand, I feel my heart pounding in my chest. The nurse's words echo in my ears.
Twenty thousand dollars. That’s the number hanging over my head now. It could go higher depending on how long they’re in the hospital, the nurse said. I told her I’d find the money, I will get it, but it would take time.
Time I don’t have. Money I don’t have.
Another thing I have to think of is more medical bills to add to the ones we already have.
I lower the phone slowly as I have it tight against my chest, my eyes landing on the treehouse.
Memories hit me like a freight train. Laughing in the summer sun, lying beside Hayden, promising things with a childish belief we’d never grow out of love. I wanted my kids to play in that treehouse, to fall in love like I did, like I still have.
“How are your parents?” Hayden’s voice pulls me out of my happy memory.
I blink, turning slightly. “No change.”
I’m not sure if he really cares or not, but it’s still nice that someone is asking me about them.
Silence stretches between us. I open my mouth, ready to ask him to take me home. I can’t stay here. I don't have my car, any clothes and all I want is a shower, but he speaks first.
“Come on, you look tired. Have a shower?—”
“Will you take me home? I don’t have anything with me.” I glance toward the house, catching sight of his parents watching us through the window. The look in their eyes has the same thing which holds in my mom's eyes. Hope we'll be together again.
“You’re staying here,” he says without looking at me. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
And that’s it, no room for argument, no room for me to even say a word. He walks away, leaving me to follow, and every step behind him feels heavier than the last.
Being here, in this house, with this family, it’s a reminder of everything I ruined. I don’t have anyone else to blame.
Upstairs, he opens the door to his bedroom. I freeze in the doorway. My feet won’t move, this is his room, his bed. I shouldn’t be in here, but the scent of him wraps around me before I even cross the threshold.
Hayden turns, frowning slightly as he steps forward and takes my wrist gently, tugging me inside. “Everything’s in the bathroom. There are clothes in there, Lileah gave me a few different things, pick what you want.” Then he’s gone before I can say thank you, before I can ask him where he's going to sleep.
But instead, I stare at the closed bathroom door for a second before slowly moving inside. The shower steams up quickly, and as I step under the water, it’s like something breaks loose in me. I didn’t even know how much I needed this, the water feels like it’s washing off layers of the day, the grief, fear, guilt. But itcan’t touch the part of me that’s rotting inside. The broken heart, which I don’t think will ever be fixed.
I come out of the shower and wrap the towel around me and look at some of the creams which Lileah has left for me. Once I get dressed I walk out of the bathroom but stop at the sight of Hayden sitting on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t look up from his phone, as he stands up and walks toward me.
“I’m going to shower. You can go to sleep after.” Without even looking at me, he walks into the bathroom behind me.
I look around the room, not much has changed, some of the posters are gone, less hockey stuff around, but it still feels like him. Then my eyes stop on the bed, and my mind thinks of every bad thing it can.
How many girls has he brought here? I shudder at the thought. I can’t do this. I can’t sleep in a bed where other girls have laid. I start gathering my clothes to leave quickly, throwing them into my bag, but stop when I hear him.
“Planning on running again?” His voice slices through me. I turn slowly, heart hammering, when I see him, see them. The scars. Faint but jagged. Knife wounds. My stomach drops.
I did that. Because of me, those scars exist.
“I shouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah, well, you’re staying.” He pulls open the closet door.
