My smile fades as a lead ball settles back in my gut. Not her fault, though.
“He’s awake,” I report. “Lucid and talking.” But talking isn’t the right word for it. Yelling? Arguing? Being an unrecognizable asshole? “He’s got a decent concussion, but he knows who he is and remembers what happened. He’ll need a few days of observation, but it seems like he’s lucky.”
Extremelylucky, for a guy who got into a car with someone as high as a kite, with a propensity for racing, who smashed their car into a tree. Somehow, the driver was even luckier, only spending a few hours in the hospital before walking away.
“That’s great news,” Eliza says softly. When I’m silent, she asks, “Right?”
“It is,” I force out. “It’s great news.”
“But not everything is great,” she cautiously concludes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I’d rather swallow shells.
But this isn’t going away. I’m going to walk right into round two the second our call’s done.
I breathe deep and give her the short version. How the first thing he said when he was fully conscious was,What the fuck are you doing here?How the second thing was that we shouldn’t have come. That he’s clearlyfine,that it was just a little accident and wasn’t worth the trouble of us dropping everything.
How Anson then asked him why he got into a car with an incapacitated driver, and everything just…exploded.
“Ah, now I get it—why you came all the way out here.”Even hoarse from all the tubes, Dawson’s voice was unmistakably bitter. “To rub my nose in my shit, tell me how badly I messed up, like I don’t fuckin’ know.”
“Yeah, Dawson, that’s why I dropped everything thefucking second I got the call, pulled strings to open two seats on a full flight, and spent all of yesterday staring at your heart monitor just in case it decided to level off,”Anson had shot right back.“You got me, little brother.”
“Go the fuck home.”
That one had been aimed at both of us. I’d ignored it, but Anson hadn’t, and they regressed into angry little kids trading blows in the backyard until Dawson got worked up enough to lurch forward, like he might actually throw a fist. He’d immediately flopped back in pain and called a nurse for more meds, who informed us the doctor was ready to run some more tests.
That’d been about an hour ago.
When I finish, Eliza firmly states, “Whatever’s going on isn’t onyou.”
I know we did nothing wrong by coming here. It was the right choice. But this whole thing started long before he landed in that hospital bed. “Dawson always was the wild child, growing up. It never left him when he got his first contract, but he was twenty, still had time to grow out of it. But he didn’t. And he’s gotten more and more distant over the years.”
Clearly, some kind of bullshit has been going on inside that head of his. Something that turned little Daw—who was pretty reckless but alwaysgoodin the end—intothis.
“I didn’t do enough to stop it from happening.” The confession scrapes my throat. “With Lala and the farm, I just…thought he’d figure it out.”
Fuck.
“Grayson, you aren’t responsible for your adult brother,” she says calmly. “You’re doing an incredible job helping to raise Lala. You’ve worked your ass off to grow what your father started. And you, just like Dawson, had to work through losing your parents, and came out the other side agood person.You’ve done so much.”
Her conviction cuts loud and clear through the line, her words striking me to my core. But still, “I could’ve done more.”
“Not without one of those other things suffering,” she argues. “You can handle a lot of moving parts. But there’s a limit. For anyone.”
I nod, gripping onto her reminder like an anchor.
“I know there’s probably nothing that can make you feel better right now. But please, just…give yourself a little credit. Don’t beat yourself up.”
My chest feels too full as I breathe.
It eases a fraction when she adds, “I’m the only one allowed to be a little mean to you.”
An incredulous exhale shoots out of me.Shaking my head, I mutter, “I’ve let you get away with too much.”
“Hmm. Maybe,” she replies innocently.
The day’s surprises keep on coming, because—like magic—my thoughts shift from self-loathing and despair to Eliza and her addictive perfume, her soft skin and cute little freckles, how sweetly she responded to me in bed.
