Page 117 of Where I Should’ve Been

I try to talk—to call his name out in acknowledgment—but all I manage is a strangled cough before Pete takes over.

“Over here, Ben,” he says calmly, climbing to his feet next to me again.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” Bennett asks frantically, his demeanor aggressive in every sense of the word as he charges toward us at a jog.

Pete puts a hand to his chest, but his feet keep churning, essentially leaving him treading tile. “We don’t know anything yet, Ben. We haven’t seen her.”

“Haven’t seen her?” Logan yells from behind Norah, stepping forward with his chest out like he can force his way through our assumed stupidity with sheer ego. “Why the hell not?”

“They won’t let us back there, son,” Pete says, trying to hold on to what little reason is available in the tight air of a very tense hall.

“Bullshit, they won’t. I’m going,” Logan insists, slamming into a set of doors that won’t budge—the very same dead end that stopped me. Emotions are high, but evidently, security in hospitals is higher. “Fuck!”

“All of ya,” Pete insists then, his patience waning from wading through too many buckets of bullshit. “Sit your asses down, right now. Come on. Take a load off.”

Bennett and Norah hug each other tightly, and Logan slams down next to Randy. Without saying a word or lifting his gaze at all, Randy reaches out to put a hand on Logan’s shoulder, just like Pete did for me earlier. It’s an olive branch of humanity I don’t know that I’m capable of right now.

“Tad,” Norah whispers, surprising me entirely by being directly in front of my face. She’s squatted down, her ass at her heels, and when my eyes find their focus, I see a sheen of tears in her eyes and a messy smear of mascara beneath them.

“Where’s Autumn?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“She’s outside with Clay, Josie, Sheila, and Marty. They all left the bar as soon as they heard.”

I nod. It’s all I can do.

“Tad, honey, we should get you seen by a doctor too,” Norah says, gently touching my arm. “You were in there a long time. Took in a lot of smoke, you know?”

I shake my head. I’m not leaving this spot until I hear about Breezy and the baby.

“Tad,” Bennett says then, shocking the shit out of me by using my real name. “Get checked out. I promise you, I’ll come find you as soon as—”

The door to the restricted area swings open with a thud, interrupting Bennett and bringing me to my feet so quickly I sway. Pete puts a hand under my armpit on one side, and Bennett grabs on to the other as the doctor asks, “Tad Hanson?”

“That’s me,” I rasp desperately. Shards of glass against a chalkboard would sound better than I do right now.

“Beatrice is asking for you.”

She’s asking for you. That means she’s speaking. That means she’s thinking.

That means she’s okay.

The weight of the world leaves my shoulders, and my balance suffers the consequences.

I collapse. Voices shout. Everything goes hazy.

And just like that…I’m officially ousted as the one making decisions for myself as my consciousness takes a road trip.

I guess, maybe, the time has come for me to get checked out.

48

Tad

The sting of antiseptic hits first, sharp and sterile in the back of my throat. Then come the sounds—oxygen hissing, monitors beeping close and far away—and the ache that sits heavy in every inch of my body.

Bright light greets me through my blinks, the simple act of breathing burning like never before. I try to clear my throat, but it’s useless.

“He…hello?” It’s gravelly and hurts like a son of a bitch, so I close my eyes on a groan.