Page 73 of Head Under Water

“She’s going to be okay,” I tell her. I’m telling myself, too. “She will.”

Her eyes search the air for something—answers, hope, I’m not sure.

“Mom…” My voice surprises me. I don’t think this is the right time, but I still have to ask. I have to know. “Do you think this was an accident?”

Her gaze flicks to mine, then away. “What else could it have been? No one would hurt Margie.” Her last sentence sounds like a threat, a warning. She tightens her fingers around her purse strap.

“I just…” I lick my lips, gathering my thoughts. “What if… I mean, after Ruth. It’s like…” I don’t even want to say my worst fears out loud. They make it all too real. “It’s like someone’s…targeting the three of you. Hunting you. And you’re the only one left.” The words feel insane when spoken aloud. But do they feel wrong? Not to me.

I study the side of her face, searching for any hint I’m right. That she suspects the same thing.

She gives a sharp jerk of her head. “No. That’s ridiculous. Don’t talk like that. They were accidents. Both of them. And Margie’s going to be okay. Don’t say that.” She stands, not looking my way as she shuffles past. “I’m going to get coffee. Stay here.”

I drop my head forward with a long sigh. She didn’t answer my question.

A few minutes later, the guys return, their faces haunted and broken in a new way. They’ve aged ten years in ten minutes.

I move to Will’s side without thinking. When he meets my eyes, we just stare for what feels like a lifetime, having a silent conversation that could never be put into words.

I want to ask if he’s okay, want to ask if he’ll ever be okay.

But I think both of those answers would be no. Not okay like before. Not if she doesn’t make it.

Cory sits when Mom appears, then takes the cup of coffee she offers him.

“The surgeon knows what he’s doing,” I tell Will, keeping my voice low.

“There were…” He runs a hand over his face. “A lot of tubes. More than before. I think it just kind of messed me up.”

“Dialysis,” Mom says. “For her kidneys. It’s keeping her going, that’s all.”

The choice of words hits me. Keeping her going. Not making her better.

Will nods, still standing there in the middle of the line of chairs like a zombie. I loop my arm through the crook of his, leading him to a chair. We sink down together, but when I start to release him, his forearm traps mine against his side. His hand sweeps up, catching my wrist before I can break away, and he locks his fingers with mine.

This time, his grip is tight. Almost painful.

Terrified.

Something somersaults in my chest.

When I glance over, Cory’s eyes are on the place where our hands connect. His gaze snaps away when he sees me noticing.

Will doesn’t look at me, and he doesn’t look at Cory. He just grips my hand like a lifeline, and I let him. Because I think, in this moment, he’s my lifeline too.

Maybe, in our own way, that’s how it’s always been.

But if something happens to Margie, I’m not sure we’ll ever be the same again. I hold him tighter, wanting to keep him for however long I can.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

PRESENT DAY

The hospital is cold. The sharp scent of antiseptic stings my nose. My fingers ache, and my skin throbs. My mind wanders to places I don’t want to think about.

My mom.

The man in the blue truck.