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I felt like my whole world was crumbling around me.
I’d always prided myself with being okay. I had always been able to cope with bad things, but this was something I wasn’t prepared to handle.
I flushed the toilet and cleaned myself up, wiping my face free of tears. I kept making a strange stuttering gasping sound as I tried to hold back more tears. I couldn’t fucking breathe. I clutched the fabric of my shirt in my hand as I forced myself to calm down.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
Calm down, Rowan, I warned myself. You need to be strong.
But the last thing I could be in this moment was strong. I’d thought I’d escaped the hold of my mother and Jim, but it had all been a façade. I could never escape them. Jim had managed to take away something that mattered dearly to me. Trent might not have liked me at all anymore, but I took comfort in knowing he was out there somewhere thriving. If he didn’t make it through this…I was pretty damn sure he’d take a piece of my soul with him.
I loved him. God, I loved him so much that it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest and stomped on.
I reached for more paper towels, drying my still damp face. I couldn’t stop the tears. I knew I needed to get myself under control before I left the sanctuary of the restroom.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
I wasn’t okay.
This wasn’t okay.
Nothing about the fact that Trent was here, fighting for his life, was okay.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
I took deep breaths, inhaling in through my mouth and out through my nose. I needed to get my shit together and be strong. Breaking down like this wasn’t going to help Trent.
I turned the water on, splashing the cool liquid onto my face.
My eyes were swollen and red from crying. I didn’t care though. I no longer saw tears as a sign of weakness, but of strength.
I took a few more calming breaths to make sure I was ready to face this.
I opened the bathroom door and looked down the hall. Trace was waiting for me and he waved me forward. With my head bowed, like a child in trouble, I hesitantly stopped in front of him.
“The kids are with my mom,” he pointed over his shoulder to the waiting room before continuing, “he’s out of surgery now.” Trace hesitated, his eyes filled with pain. I had only ever seen the guy happy and smiling, so seeing him like this was shocking. “He’s not in the clear yet though. There’s still plenty that could go wrong.”
“He’s no going to make it, is he?” I forced myself to ask, my lower lip trembling.
“I don’t think so,” Trace’s voice cracked and tears began to spill from his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling, clearly hating that I was seeing him break down like this.
I found myself stepping forward that last little bit and wrapping my arms around his torso. My ear was pressed against his chest where I could hear his heart racing with panic and anger at the thought of losing his brother. My tears soaked the fabric of his shirt as he lifted his arms to wrap them around me.
“This hurts so bad,” I confessed, my voice thick from my tears. I sniffled, trying to hold them back, but it was pointless.
“I know it does,” his voice shook. “I almost lost Olivia once, so I know exactly how you feel right now, and it’s the worst feeling in the whole world.”
I hadn’t known that, but now wasn’t the time to ask questions about Olivia and his past. Right now, our focus needed to be on Trent.
“I fucking hate this hospital,” Trace groaned, his voice muffled by my hair.
“Why?” I asked.
“This is where they brought Olivia, then Gramps passed…although, the stubborn old man made them release him so he could die at home,” I felt Trace crack a small smile but it quickly crumbled, “and now Trent’s here, fighting for his life. If it wasn’t for the fact that Dean was born here,” he said, pulling away and I let my arms drop to my sides, “this place would only hold bad memories for me.”
“Your family has really bad luck,” I remarked, trying to bring some light to the situation, but it was pointless. I knew we both felt like falling apart.
“Yeah, something like that,” he muttered, glaring at the tiled floor.
