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I tried to reach out to her, but I couldn’t move my body.
Why the fuck could I not move my body?
“We gotta get him hydrated and do a full work up of what he’s got in his system. But we’re in the process of setting him up to have his stomach pumped.”
“Holy fucking shit,” I heard Hank say.
I passed out again as I was being rolled down a hallway. The passing lights were mesmerizing and they lulled me to sleep. I saw my mother’s face again, with her raven black hair and her dark brown eyes. She had a beautiful smile on her cheeks and a rosiness to her features I hadn’t seen in years. I lifted my hand to try and touch her. To try and feel the warmth and comfort only a mother could provide.
But the illusion was busted when someone else took my hand.
“Drake? Can you hear me? Please tell me you can hear me.”
I heard Delia sniffle as my eyes finally pried themselves open.
“Holy shit. Drake. Hi. Hello there. How are you feeling?” she asked.
Her hand cupped my cheek and I mindlessly nuzzled into it.
“What happened?” I asked.
I coughed when I tried to swallow. My throat fucking hurt.
“Here, drink some of this. It might help,” Delia said.
I felt a straw dancing around my lips as I parted them to drink the water she offered me.
“You um…”
My eyes cleared long enough to find Delia’s. They were puffy and red, swollen from all the tears she had cried. The hospital bed was uncomfortable, and I tried to shift, but all of a sudden, I felt someone’s arms underneath mine.
“Easy does it,” Hank said. “Let us help.”
“I’ll—deal with you in a second,” I said. “I heard how you were—talking to her.”
I cast my gaze back to Delia as she sat on the edge of my bed. Even though I’d done my fair share to get her to quit, I didn’t like hearing Hank talk down to her. It didn’t sit right in my gut. Especially when this one was all on me.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You gave yourself alcohol poisoning,” she said, looking at me with sad eyes.
“Doctors had to pump your stomach and fill you with fluids to get your body put back together again,” Hank said.
“It was just a few drinks,” I said.
“Your blood alcohol content was 0.41, Drake. That’s almost six times the legal limit,” Delia said.
“You almost killed yourself,” Hank said. “You’re lucky Delia woke up when she did. If she would’ve slept any longer, she would’ve found you dead.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to clear it. It felt muddled. Like I was moving through Jell-O with cotton swabs in my ears. I couldn’t focus on anything.
Not even Delia’s beautiful eyes as they gazed upon me.
“Where are Landon? And—uh—and Stone?” I asked.
“Heading home,” Delia said. “Your last concert’s been canceled.”
“No, no, no. We can’t cancel that one. My sister’s favorite city is Dallas. We gotta do this Texas show.”
