We were in a hospital waiting room. Nellie and Bee were consulting a nurse behind the desk, Selena on her phone.
Nellie and Bee had shown up in the tent shortly after we got the news. Nellie had gone into firefighter mode. He was able to obtain more specific information—Jackson had a head injury and had not been conscious when they took him to the ER—and drove us to the hospital.
We’d all texted and called Kat dozens of times, but she hadn’t picked up her phone.
Nellie sat next to me. He checked my pulse and made me look him in the eyes.
“I think the shock has worn off. How are you feeling?”
“Any updates?” I asked, ignoring his question. I wasn’t the one who had been carted off to the ER on account of a bashed in head.
He had a helmet. How did this happen??
“He’s stable, which is good.”
Goosebumps erupted all over my flesh, relief snaking through my veins in a cooling rush.
“So he’ll be okay?” I asked, hiccupping out a sob.
“It looks good, but head injuries can be fickle.”
“How are you?” Bee eyed me with concern.
“Better.” I steadied myself. “A little embarrassed. I don’t know why I reacted like that.”
The pink shoes flashed before my eyes. The dismembered shoes. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“You thought your friend died. I think you reacted just right,” Bee said, a sympathetic smile on her face.
She didn’t look great either, all pale and clammy. I scanned our group—Bee, Selena, Nellie—we were haggard. The smell of dry sweat lingered, everyone’s hair was a greasy mess, clothes covered in dirt and grease, dark circles under the eyes.
“I’m sorry I was a burden,” I said. This was hard on all of us. I was not alone in my pain, but for some reason that didn’t comfort me.
“You weren’t,” Nellie said. “I’ve seen way worse reactions to traumatic events.”
“Still…” My eyes watered again and I turned away.
A nurse motioned to Nellie and he hurried over while we leaned forward in our chairs, anticipating the news being reported to him.
When he returned, he lifted his phone where he’d taken notes. “That was the head nurse. She showed me his chart. Jackson hit his head on the frontal bone near his temple, broke two ribs, and bruised his wrist. There was a lot of blood, as you saw at the scene, but head injuries tend to be messy. He suffered a concussion, his CT scan showed minor swelling but no bleeding. They admitted him and they’re doing a few more tests, but he should recover fully.”
“Not fatal?” I asked, needing to hear it again.
“Nope. He’ll be out in a few days.”
“Can we see him?” Selena asked, her eyes bloodshot, her hand a permanent fixture in mine.
“The doctor is with him now. Kat’s there, too. She rode with him in the ambulance.”
“Thank god.” I collapsed against the back of the chair, exhaustion hitting me as the adrenaline seeped out. “Is the other rider okay?”
“The EMT said he walked away from the accident with some minor scrapes.”
“No fatalities?” I clarified.
“I’m guessing Jackson being carted away unconscious on a gurney is what sparked that rumor.”
A moment later, another nurse came out of the swinging doors. “You can visit him one at a time, but only for a few minutes. We don’t want to wear him out.”
In an unspoken agreement, I went first. The nurse led me through a maze of corridors, and pointed to a door on the right.
“Room 305,” she said, and hurried away, the rubber on her shoes squeaking on the tiled floor.
Tears pricked my eyes, and I took a moment to cool my emotions. There was a rectangular window on the door and I peeked through it. Jackson lay on the bed hooked up to a monitor, an IV in his arm, his head bandaged. Kat sat on a chair next to him, her back to me, tissues crumpled in her hand, looking up at him.
Kat laughed and Jackson smiled in response. She brushed a hair from his forehead and he closed his eyes at the gesture. It was intimate and easy. Two people who’ve been through wars together and came out the other side changed, closer. Not just in that moment. But in all the years they’ve known each other. Over a decade.
I’d known him for three months.
Three measly months. What was that to fifteen years? What was that to a marriage, a child, dozens of birthdays, and anniversaries?
I rested my back against the wall, and stared up at the stained ceiling panels. What place did I have in his life? Kat and Evie were his family. Who was I? No one. An acquaintance. A girl he’d fooled around with a few times. Kissed twice. He’d kissed Kat a thousand times and he wanted a thousand more.
Shame, guilt, foolishness—they rushed through me, swirled around, picked me up, and crashed me back down. I was a day player. Kat and Jackson were the stars of this show.
I stepped away, dragging my feet back to the waiting room, and told everyone that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home.
They didn’t ask any questions and Selena hooked her arm in my elbow and took me back to the cabin.
We packed our bags and called an Uber to take us to the train station. She didn’t ask any questions. She could tell something was wrong and she also knew I didn’t want to talk about it.
We reached the city late. At Selena’s apartment, she poured us each a glass of cheap rosé, then sat next to me.
“What happened?”
The wine wound through my bloodstream, a calming elixir. My eyelids struggled to stay open, but I wanted the drama of the day out of my system.
“I saw history. I saw love.” I sank into the cushion of her sofa, drained. “Kat is his person, his family. I’m a bystander.”
Selena sipped her wine, her eyes studying me over the rim.
“She’s the mother of his child and was married to him for a long time,” Selena said, rubbing my shoulder. “But she’s not his person.”
“Please don’t say I’m his person.”
“I wasn’t going to. He’s too entrenched in the past to see his future.”
“And…” I raised my eyebrows, expectantly.
“And nothing.”
I picked at the pilling on the worn blanket across my lap. My eyes were sore and puffy from crying, but more tears dripped down my cheeks, any last hope of Jackson loving me leaking out.
“Aren’t you going to tell me to wait until he’s sorted things out with Kat? Or tell me to forget about him. He’s not worth it.”
“No,” she said simply.
I put my empty glass down and folded my arms over my chest.
“What the hell is this? Some reverse psychology bullshit?”
“I don’t have an answer.” Selena patted my knee, and raised her eyebrows.
“But you have opinions.” For all the years I’d known her, she’d never shied away from voicing her thoughts on anything.
“Peyton, you’re a grown-ass woman. You tell me.”
“Ugh.” I slammed back against the cushion. “That’s what you’re meant to do. Shine a light when I’m too close and only see shadows. Comfort me when I’m sad. Be my compass when I’m lost.”
Selena clasped my hands. “I’m all those things. But I’ve said and done all those things for you when it comes to Jackson.”
“Remind me.” I closed my eyes and sank into the deflated cushions.
Selena laughed lightly.
“Fine. Focus on work. Forget Jackson. It shouldn’t be this hard to be with someone. And he’s got a lot of shit going on. But it’s not your shit. Lead your life. Don’t let your love for him derail you.”
I bit my lip. “Love?”
“Isn’t it love?”
“I don’t want to name it.” I dug the remote out of the cushions and put on The Mindy Project.
Selena hobbled to the closet. Besides the emotional exhaustion, our bodies were swollen, aching pieces of meat. She tossed a sheet and pillow at me for my makeshift bed on her couch, then snuggled in next to me.
Her hand rubbed my shoulder, then she pinched me.
“Ow!” I rubbed my sore skin and glared at her incredulously. “What the hell was that for?”
“For making me go on that bloody bike race. My vagina hurts like a motherfucker.”