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The sound of Atlas wetting his lips is crisp in my ear through the static in my head.
“I want him to be okay more than I want to yell at him. And holy fuck do I want to yell at him, Blair.”
“You can yell at him when he’s better, yeah?”
He laughs like the world hasn’t shattered and reconstructed itself in a matter of hours. Maybe his hasn’t. But mine is a dug up rose garden with the petals crushed into the dirt and thorns planted in their place.
“I need you,” I say, because the darkness is roaring in my ears. It’s dangerous and howling, and I stare at the keys where they sit in the cupholder. “It’s dark up here.”
He’s quiet. There’s rustling and sneakers on linoleum. A door shuts. Hushed voices.
“You at your dad’s? Corvin will sit with Shiloh. Is it safe for you to stay there?”
I peer out through the windshield toward the front door. Dad’s bedroom light is on, but the others are off.
“I don’t think he’s coming back,” I choke out, dropping my head to the steering wheel. “Atlas.”
“I’m coming, Bumble B. I love you. Stay on the phone with me, alright?”
I close my eyes and nod.
“Alright.”
It’s a week before they wake Shiloh up. A week of silence between Dad and me. A week of Atlas wrapping around me every night and waking up to warm lips and gentle hands making sure I’m still there—still whole. When I want to numb out my mind, there he is to fill it with love and light and fucking happiness.
Shiloh’s room has one of those uncomfortable plastic-feeling couches that juts out beneath the big window, and I’m lying on my back with my head in Atlas’ lap while he runs his fingers through my hair. I’m half scrunched with my legs propped on the wall, but the two of us are sitting there quietly laughing to each other when a cough breaks through our bubble.
Both of our heads snap over to Shiloh, who’s struggling to push himself more upright, and I’m absolutely frozen. Atlas doesn’t move either, except to gently coax me to sit up.
He’s a mess. An absolute mess in need of a shower, and likely a huge ass cup of water, but he’s a conscious mess. I hate to admit I’ve been fragile as hell this last week, having constant nightmares of Shiloh staying asleep forever, of having to choose to pull the plug.
I don’t realize I’m grinding my nails into my palm until Atlas takes it in his and forces me to relax.
“You assholes just going to stare at me?” Shiloh’s voice is gruff, and it sends him into another round of coughing fits, but it spurs the both of us into motion.
Atlas pulls me up, places an automatic kiss on my mouth and mumbles, “I’ll grab water,” before rushing out of the room, and when my focus shifts to Shiloh I find heat climbing up my cheeks. Still, I walk to his bedside and drop down into one of the chairs beside him.
“Welcome back,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice solid and failing miserably.
He blinks slowly, narrowing his eyes, then lifts a lazy middle finger at me. “Fuck you. I feel like shit.”
“I would too if I spent a week in a medically induced coma.”
He’s still blinking like he’s trying to push through a hell of a fog, but it’s less aggressive and growing more curious. It’s not often that I get to see my brother’s softer side—not since I moved out—and the insecurity cracks something open inside of me.
The protectiveness that’s felt beaten out of me this last week.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
He squints, rubbing at his temples with a groan. A few seconds turn into almost a whole minute with his head in his hands, and my fingers twitch for the call button just as he looks up at the ceiling with a huff.
“You’re really going to make me relive that? My brother and best friend getting it on in a bathroom stall?” He makes a gagging gesture, but when he looks at me there’s a soft, sad smile on his lips. “This is a serious thing then?”
“We don’t have to talk about that right now.” I don’t know how closely related that revelation was to his accident, but the last thing I want is to make him spiral right after he’s woken up.
He crosses his arms and lifts a brow almost comically well. “Dude, that’s shit deflecting. You love each other. I’m remembering that right?”
Words won’t come, so I only nod, and it’s that moment that Atlas comes back into the room with a nurse in tow. He hands one of those giant hospital cups to Shiloh, who guzzles half of it down right off the bat.
