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“Yes, Mom,” they mutter in unison.
Emmett holds back, taking his time to slip on his shoes and making sure his mom and sister are both outside before turning back toward me. “You okay?”
“You should be thankful for the family you have.”
I know he loves them, but I know he gets annoyed by the way his sister embarrasses him. This isn’t the first time she’s barged in on us watching a movie or hanging out and teased us. Although it’s the first time we’ve almost been caught. I'd kill for a sibling like that, for parents so happy to see me they throw their arms around me the second they walk in the door.
He sits on the arm of the sofa. “They're your family too, you know. My mom would be as happy with a surprise visit from you someday.”
I shrug. Maybe. They've certainly taken me in as if I’m one of their own, but that’s the kind of people they are.
“Don't do that,” he says, mimicking my shrug. “Don't tell yourself things that aren't true up here.” He taps his temple. “Come on.” He stands, offering me his hand. “Let’s go carry groceries in before my annoying sister comes back.”
Chapter Six
Present Day
“S
avannah,” I say again, rushing to sit at the side of the bed where she’s still curled in a protective ball. I reach out to her, wanting to hug her but not wanting to make her any more miserable, so I settle for a hand on her forearm and squeeze. “It’s you, it’sreallyyou. I didn’t think . . . I only saw a first name when I looked at the chart. God. I would have never thought it was you! What the hell happened?”
She offers a weak smile. “Stupid, so stupid of me. I was on the phone and driving, trying to dig through my purse for the kids’ school schedule because it dawned on me that today might only have been a half day for them. I took my eyes off the road for a second, only a second, and ran a red light.”
I cringe. “Yikes. I know it probably sounds stupid to say this right now given how you feel, but I’m thankful it wasn’t worse.”
She nods and tries to readjust her position but grimaces.
“Here,” I offer, adjusting her pillow for her and smoothing the twisted, troubled sheets. I check the pump, letting her know that in a few minutes we can bolus another dose of pain medication before sitting back down to hold her hand.
We share a silent connection.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says again.
In many ways, I am the same. I talk too much and say what’s on my mind, even when it’s not appropriate. I act without thinking, and still feel like I’m floundering, floating from one topic to the next without feeling like I’ve found my place. But there are certain parts of me that I’ve lost over the last few years, that I think about often and wonder if I’ll ever experience again.
I let myself smile, a little. Trying to hold back from asking what I really want to ask her. “How are your parents?” I ask instead.
“Dad retired early, and he and Mom are living life on a permanent spring break. They’re finishing up a vacation in Italy right now.”
Good for them. Their dad was a lineman, which is why Emmett was so determined to go to school and follow in his footsteps. It allowed his mom to stay home with them when they were young, and she could be there for all activities once they got older. His dad missed out on a lot during their elementary years, having to constantly work several states away, but once Emmett and his sister got older, his dad found a job closer to home. He had always promised their mom that they’d travel the world together once he retired, and I love hearing that they get to live their dream.
“They deserve it.” I uncross my ankles and gently bounce the pad of my foot on the floor, desperate to burn off this nervous energy from the awkwardness between us.
“What about Brandon, the kids?”
Savannah and her high school boyfriend got engaged at eighteen, went to college together, and got married as soon as they graduated. Everyone thought they were crazy to get married so young, to not take some time apart to experience other people, or life alone, but the last I heard, they were happily married, and added a little boy to the mix with another on the way.
“We’re great. Everyone is good. Boys are growing like weeds.”
“Boys,” I echo.
The silence stretches on for a few more minutes, both of us looking at our hands, and taking turns adjusting the sheets. I continually reach up to press buttons on the PCA to ensure it’s working, though I already know it’s fine.
“How is he?” I finally ask. I don’t need to say his name for her to know who we are talking about. It’s been years since I’ve said his name aloud and I don’t think I could physically muster the letters without crying.
“He’s doing . . . alright,” she says, hesitation lacing her voice.
Savannah had already graduated and moved out by the time I moved in with them, but she visited home enough that we were close, really close, until everything blew up and I knew I had to distance myself from the family. I knew I couldn’t stomach learning about his beautiful wife, or that he has a slew of kids of his own. I didn’t want to know that they have Sunday night family dinners together and annual family photo shoots to use for Christmas cards that relatives tape to their walls.
