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“Kyle…” his friend sighs and looks out the window. “Her dad is pretty famous and I’m afraid there will be a lawsuit. I don’t want you going up there to see her to be seen as a sign of guilt.”
I don’t understand what the man means about my dad being famous and a lawsuit. It was an accident and not something Kyle could’ve prevented.
“I am guilty. I should’ve seen the truck. I should’ve looked again before pulling out. She’s up there dying because of me. Her family needs to know that I’m sorry, that I was taking her to dinner after the game because I like her, they need to know that I thought she was beautiful and loved that in the few minutes we spoke she had me in awe of her football knowledge. They should know that I never wanted to hurt her and that I wanted to spend time with her and get to know her better.”
“Oh, Kyle,” I say wishing he could hear me. He turns his head away from me as if he doesn’t want me to see his tears, but it’s too late.
“I’ll talk to their lawyer and see what the family wants to do, but don’t get your hopes up.” The man grabs his coat and briefcase and hastily leaves the room. Kyle punches his bed with his free hand and slams his head back into his pillow. His tears flow more heavily now and he turns away from me to face the window.
I take that as my sign to leave and return to the hallway, which is still busy. Nurses run down the hall toward the elevator and I follow, curious as to what is happening. They run through a set of double doors, but I’m unable to keep up. I try to return to Kyle’s room, but can’t find my way back. The only things visible to me are the elevators. I step back on and the number seven is illuminated taking me back to the floor where I am.
In the waiting room, I see my uncle Liam, holding my cousin Betty Paige. He’s singing to her while he rocks her back and forth. Paige was such a cute and fun baby, although anytime uncle Liam was around, he was holding her. I heard aunt Josie tell my mom one time that Liam was making up for lost time because he wasn’t there for Noah. The doors open and my dad and Quinn are standing outside the room I’m staying in. They look lost and in pain. I step back into my room to find my sister, mom, my nurse and aunt Josie flanking my sides. But that isn’t who catches my attention.
It’s Noah.
My Noah.
He’s come to see me. To be here when I wake up. I stand in front of him, looking up so I can see his eyes and let my fingers ghost over the worry lines that have seemed to appear on his forehead. The normal vibrancy, the happiness that is usually there is missing. He peers down at my body and chokes on a sob. My instincts tell me to reach out to him, to catch him before he falls, but instead, it’s Elle. She’s there to break his fall and to hold him as he makes the most agonizing cry I have ever heard.
6
Noah
The gut-wrenching sob that gets everyone’s attention comes from me. I can’t recall a time in my life when I have ever emitted such a sound like this, not even when I thought I tore my ACL in high school. My reaction then was purely out of fear and frustration. My response now is all out of heartbreak. I grip the end of her bed to steady myself, to keep my legs upright when all they want to do is collapse, but Elle’s arms wrap around me and I sag into her.
My mother is there too, helping Elle hold me up so I don’t fall on top of her. She whispers that everything is okay, but I know it’s not. Peyton looks nothing like the girl I watched grow up into a beautiful woman. Her face is swollen and bruised. Her long brunette hair is missing on one side. And arms that have held me more times than I can count are bandaged and laying at her side, unmoving.
“What happened to her?” The words are barely spoken but heard loud and clear by everyone.
“The truck hit her head on, Noah. You need to tell her goodbye,” my mom says as her tears dampen the side of my cheek, at least I thought they were hers until she wipes my face, clearing mine away.
I shake my head. “I won’t. That was a promise we made to each other years ago.”
“She’s leaving us, Noah. You have to tell her it’s okay to go be with our father,” Elle begs me to do the unthinkable, but I still refuse. It’s a long-standing thing between us. We never say goodbye unless we’re singing Bon Jovi’s song. I don’t remember how it started, but I remember the last time she tried to say it and I wouldn’t let her.
