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“Yeah. Her third attack in a week.”
I shake my head. This time I’m the one running my hands through my hair. “What are we gonna do?”
I know she said she didn’t want to go back to being a hermit, whatever the hell that means. But, fuck. I can’t stand the thought of her getting sick ‘cause of us.
He looks me dead in the eyes, his worry matching my own, then shrugs. “The transfusion should help.” He tries to sound confident, but the crack in his voice gives him away.
When the elevator doors open, he leads me down the hall. We’re silent the rest of the long walk to her room. The faint hum of a machine mixing with the steady beat of machines drifts into the hallway as we draw near. My heart beats heavier with each step.
Easing the door open, I step inside and pause. There are far more machines than what I’m used to seeing at the glorified clinic in Seaside. And more wires. With her arm stretched out, a thick tube pumps some liquid from one of the large machines into her bicep. It looks painful. At the very least, uncomfortable as fuck. Yet, she lays there in the bed, covered up to her chin with a thin white blanket, sleeping like a princess waiting for that magical kiss. I’m sure the opioid drip in her other IV is responsible for that. I take one calming breath, but that gets stuck in my lungs when her entire body stiffens, then spasms.
My heart constricts. Carefully making my way into the room, I find a chair and pull it up to the bed on the other side of her outstretched arm. Taking her free hand in both of mine, I watch the steady rhythm of the blanket rising and falling with each breath, praying she’s not in pain as she spasms again.
“How long’s she been out?” I ask Breckin, glancing up at him.
He checks his watch. “About an hour.” Coming up to her other side, he hovers over her. “There’s no signal up here. I didn’t see your calls until I stepped outside to schedule an appointment for my car.”
Glancing up at him, I raise my eyebrows.
“Getting the windows tinted and having it detailed.”
“Detailed? Really?” I roll my eyes. He keeps the BMW fucking spotless. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a cover on it inside the garage.
He crosses his arms over his chest, muttering under his breath. “She got sick on the way up here.”
I burst out laughing. I can’t help it.
“What’s . . . So funny?” Asra croaks, blinking her eyes.
“Hey, Little Girl.” I smile, gently squeezing her hand. “How are you feeling?”
She blinks at me, then turns to Breckin before returning her attention to me. “You came?”
“Of course, I came. You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging alone with him,” I nod toward my brother, “did you?”
The side of her lip twitches up, but it’s replaced with a frown as she glances at all the machines. Another spasm rips through her body.
“Hey,” I run my thumb along the back side of her hand, “we’ll get you out of here soon enough. Then you’ll be back to teasing me with that smart mouth.”
She shakes her head. A single tear leaks from the corner of her eye down her cheek. “You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. Neither of you. You deserve someone without all my problems. Someone who –”
“Stop.” I lean in closer, trying to keep my voice level. “Don’t ever say shit like that.”
“It’s true, though.” Another tear falls as she looks down at her blanket. “You should be with someone as perfect as both of you.”
I know it’s just the medicine talking, just the pain. Not her. Still, the words sting. And they couldn’t be further from the truth. “I tried to kill myself,” I blurt before she continues with her pity party.
Her head jerks toward me, eyes wide as her mouth falls open.
“A year ago.”
Breckin tenses, yet he doesn’t say a thing. After a pause, he nods and leaves.
This is my story to tell. My battle. She needs to know, to know that whatever pain or insecurities she’s feeling, I’ve been there, too. I’m not perfect. Not even close. No more hiding my demons.
“My entire life, I’ve always come in second,” I start after I’m sure he’s out of earshot. We’ve talked a lot. I don’t blame him, and I’ve come a long way, but it’s not something I need to dredge up with him. “I’ve never been good enough for anyone. Breckin was always smarter, better at sports, more mature. I was just the slack off, the pathetic waste of space.
“I lived my entire life in his shadow, never able to fill his shoes, never as good as him. When we were little, other kids pretended to be my friend just to hang out with him. When I got older, girls dated me to get close to him. They never wanted me. They never cared about me. I was just a stepping stone, an easy way to get to the shining star.”
