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Nodding slightly to Quinn, I adjust the way I’m sitting so the men don’t have a clear angle of my face. Any other time, I wouldn’t care. I don’t mind signing autographs or posing for pictures, a habit that Dessie hates. She didn’t grow up with the cameras always around and doesn’t realize if you give the media what they want, they’re less likely to be dicks to you.
Quinn finishes his coffee and sets the porcelain mug down with a thud. “Elle said it was only going to be a matter of time before someone alerted social media that the band was here.”
“I’m sure someone already has. It’s big news.”
“Dad says they’re going to hold a press conference in the morning.”
“Why then?” I ask, picking up my mug and finishing off the black tar. I’m going to need more, but am tempted to call for delivery. I don’t think I can stomach this shit.
Quinn sighs and pushes the crumbs left over from his pie into his fork. “Doctor says she’s not going to make it through the night.”
“But she is.” I sit upright and lean closer to Quinn so we can keep our voices down. “You know Peyton, Quinn. She’s the most resilient one out of all of us. When she’s told she can’t do something, she proves to everyone that not only is she able, but she does it better than anyone else. If everyone would encourage her to fight instead of giving up, she’d stand a damn chance at surviving.” By the time I’m done, I’m gritting my teeth. I’m frustrated and hurt because everyone’s giving up on her. “She’s not going to die.”
I push away from the table and head for the exit. “Noah,” Quinn yells my name. I stop and realize my mistake. If the two men weren’t positive about my identity, they are now. Quinn catches up to me, putting his hand on the back of my shoulder to guide me out.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fine. You’ll be back in the spotlight soon.”
Quinn doesn’t say anything as he follows me down the hall. I bypass the elevators and head toward the stairs, taking them two at a time until we’ve reached the main floor of the hospital. I’m back to needing air and quickly move toward the courtyard.
Breathing in the cold Chicago air does nothing to calm the anxiety I’m feeling right now. I’m numb all over and the heartbreak is starting to turn to anger. My hands are clenched into fists and the roar I let out comes from somewhere deep within. I finally collapse onto the bench and bend over to hide my face.
Quinn sits down next to me. “You’ve known her longer.”
“You know her better.”
“I’ve never known death,” he says. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. She’s my sister and I…”
I pull Quinn to my chest, forgetting about my feelings and hold my friend. We didn’t run in the same circles at school, but he’s always been a part of my life. The only death that is vivid in my mind is Mason’s. I remember being at his funeral. My dad standing up there in front of everyone, speaking to people that he turned his back on. He was there for Katelyn, Peyton and Elle, as they were for him. Forgiving him when others wanted him to leave town.
“Most would say we’re supposed to pray, but I don’t know if that works. I mean, my team prays before each game and we still lose.”
Quinn laughs as he pulls away from me. He hides his face, likely embarrassed that he’s crying. He shouldn’t be. I can barely keep my tears at bay and can feel another round of them coming on. I’m so angry, crying seems to be the only way to relieve the tension. Shit like this isn’t supposed to happen to us or to people like Peyton. We’re supposed to live our lives, be happy, and not worry about whether or not we’re going to survive a car crash.
“Losing her will kill my mom. I don’t think–”
“Well, why don’t we start thinking about Peyton surviving. Then we don’t have to worry about Katelyn.” I’ve seen her at her worst, and he’s right. If she loses her daughter, I think we lose her. Especially if it’s the same way we lost Mason.
“What do you say we order some takeout and feed the family? I have yet to really see my mom, and I’m sure I can convince my grandma to take Eden and Paige to a hotel. The girls really shouldn’t be here.” I stop short of finishing my sentence. My grandma and the girls would honestly be happier at a hotel for a while than hanging out in the waiting room. I’m sure everyone is tired and our emotions are starting to take over.
