Chapter Twenty-Four

Meg

My mind was fuzzy. My eyelids felt thick, sticky. My body ached and nausea rolled through me. When I finally managed to pry my eyes open, the bright light sent a slicing pain through my skull. I slammed my lids shut again.

“Meg? Sweetheart?” Mom’s voice was soothing even though it crackled with concern. “I’m right here.”

My eyes fluttered open. Mom’s face was a silhouette against the fluorescent light behind her.

“It’s okay. Don’t try to move,” she said calmly. “You’ve been in an accident, but you’re going to be okay.”

An accident?

“She’s awake?” Dad barged through the door holding two cups of coffee.

“Yes,” Mom said to him. She returned her attention to me. “Do you remember what happened?”

“An accident…?” My voice was scratchy. I hated riding the Rebel in the rain. I usually avoided it at all costs. But last night… I vaguely recalled headlights…and then darkness.

“A car crossed the center line on Bendham Street. You swerved to avoid him and lost control. You slid into a ditch.”

“Thank God you were in town and not out on the highway going sixty-five.” Dad’s tone was tense.

“You were in no condition to be riding last night,” Mom added. “We never should’ve let you walk out the door.”

“I see our patient is awake.” A pretty woman with flawless cocoa skin and dark hair tugged into a tight bun scooted up to my bedside. “Meg, my name is Aubrey. You were given a mild sedative. You probably feel a bit groggy.”

“It was to help with the pain,” Mom chimed in. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful.”

Aubrey busied herself taking my vitals and jotting notations onto her clipboard. “You could be feeling much worse,” my nurse chided. “You got pretty banged up, but you’re fortunate it’s nothing life-threatening. You have bruised ribs and a fractured wrist. I imagine you’ve got a pretty bad headache. You have a concussion, and you’re awfully lucky you didn’t end up with a skull fracture. Often in motorcycle accidents we see serious abrasions but again, you were fortunate.”

“Thank God you were wearing riding gear,” Dad said.

I had been wearing my leather pants, leather coat, and thick riding boots along with my helmet. No doubt they had saved me from being grated like a chunk of cheese as I slid across the asphalt.

Fuzzy images flashed through my mind. Lights burning overhead as I was wheeled down a hallway… Flashes of people clad in blue scrubs… A white coat… Garbled voices… Between the sedation and the concussion, my thoughts were still fuzzy.

Aubrey spoke with my parents, who cast me worried glances despite her reassuring smile. I couldn’t hear her murmurings over the pounding in my head. I briefly wondered if she’d consider slipping me another sedative but then more memories from the night before began to trickle through my mind.

Mom had been abusing sleeping pills.

Dad had found out.

Our family was on the verge of shattering, possibly irrevocably.

Apprehension quickly overshadowed my pain. It was soothed slightly when I realized Dad’s hand rested on the small of Mom’s back. She was leaning in, listening intently to the nurse.

The moment Aubrey disappeared, Mom came to my side. She picked up my left hand in hers. It wasn’t until then that I realized my right arm was in a cast. It should’ve been obvious, given that the nurse mentioned I had a fractured wrist, but until that moment I’d been too loopy to notice.

“A doctor will be in to see you soon. Aubrey thinks you’ll be discharged by the end of the day,” Dad said.

“If you feel up to going home,” Mom added.

“I do.”

“I want you to know things will be different,” Mom began. “After you left last night your father and I sat down and had a talk. A real talk. What you said about Sydney, it hurt. But you were right. She would hate the way things are. I want to honor her memory, not destroy our family. I told your father I was willing to go to counseling.”

“Really?” My voice sounded small and hopeful.

“Really,” Dad said. “I suggested we also seek marriage counseling. Your mother agreed.”

I looked at my mom. Really looked at her. She looked exhausted, sure. But she also seemed more lucid than I remembered her being in a long while.

“Your father was right. I can’t go on living the way I’ve been. It’s an insult to Sydney’s memory. It’s an insult to our family. I got so wrapped up in trying to numb myself, in trying to forget the pain, that I forgot what’s really important.”

Dad gave me a weak smile. I got the impression that he wanted to believe Mom, but she was going to have to prove herself with more than words.

“Did you talk to Miss Perez?” I asked.

“No, sweetie, not yet,” Mom said. “But I will call her soon. After we get you out of here.”

“Your mom and I were beginning to work out the details when the policeman showed up at the door.”

“Oh, Meg,” Mom sighed. “When I saw him standing there, I was so scared. Nothing good ever comes from having a policeman show up on your front steps. I was so afraid we’d lost you. I was so afraid that when I finally realized I needed to be a better mom to you,” her voice cracked, “that it was too late.”

“The Rebel is totaled,” Dad said.

I winced. “I’m sorry.”

He waved my apology away. “I don’t give a damn about the bike. I never should’ve let you ride it in the first place. I only wanted you to know you won’t be riding it anymore.”

“When the insurance check comes in, we’d like you to use it for a down payment on a car,” Mom said. “I can’t bear the thought of you on a motorcycle ever again.”

She gave me a stern look, as if she thought I would argue. She had nothing to worry about.

“We were lucky Luke was there to get you help as quickly as he did,” Dad said.

“Luke?” I must’ve heard wrong. “He wasn’t there.”

Mom and Dad shared relieved glances.

“He was there,” Mom assured me. “He said the two of you had an argument. You left before he could stop you. He followed you, saw the entire thing. He called 911 and stayed with you until the paramedics arrived.”

Luke had been there?

“That poor boy,” Mom sympathized. “You were unconscious when he got to you. He thought the worst when you were unresponsive. By the time the ambulance arrived he’d found a pulse.”

“He rode in the ambulance with you,” Dad continued. “He was here until a few hours ago.”

“He was muddy and drenched from the storm. I convinced him to go home to clean up,” Mom told me. “He didn’t want to go. We said we’d call him when you woke up.”

“Oh, right,” Dad said. “I suppose I ought to do that.”

“No,” I winced in pain as I shook my head. “I don’t want you to call him.”

“Meg,” Dad said gently, “the boy wants to know that you’re okay.”

“I think he deserves to know that,” Mom agreed. “He was a wreck last night. He really cares about you.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“I understand you had an argument. But I’m sure you can work through it.” Mom gave me a supportive smile. “I know he’ll want to get over here as soon as he hears you’re awake.”

I wanted to scream. How was it that after all this time she chose now to go all motherly on me?

“Fine. Tell him I’m okay,” I relented. I supposed if he had helped me he deserved that much. “But I do not want to see him.”

A sharp knock on the doorframe halted Mom from giving more bewildering advice. We all angled our heads to get a better look at the graying man dressed in a white coat.

“Good morning, I’m Dr. Hammond,” he said as he strode into the room. “What do you think about getting out of here today?”

“I think I like that idea a lot,” I admitted.

My parents both stepped to the side to let Dr. Hammond’s examination begin.

…

I saw the flowers, what looked like an enormous floating bouquet, come through the door before I saw the guy behind them. Luke lowered the vase full of colorful tulips. I realized he also carried a plain pink gift bag. He set both on my desk.

“I brought you every classic movie I could find. I thought you’d like something to do while you recover.” He gave me a forced smile.

“What are you doing here?” My throat constricted and tears instantly threatened. My body buzzed with conflicting emotions. I missed him but I didn’t want him here. My anger had faded to an aching sadness I couldn’t shake. “I told Dad to let you know I’m okay. I didn’t want you stopping by.”

His smile faded.

I shifted against my stack of pillows. My head felt better but the aching in my ribs had yet to cease. I was grateful to Dr. Hammond for the prescription of painkillers he’d sent home with me.

“I know. I won’t stay long. I just needed to see you. Had to see for myself that you’re okay.” He dropped onto the chair. He leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. “How are you doing?”

He looked put together in his dark jeans and long-sleeve white thermal. But the dark crescents under his eyes, the droop of his shoulders, told another story. He was exhausted. As was I.

“I’m doing okay,” I admitted. “Kylie and Francesca just left.”

“You scared the hell out of me, Meg.” His voice trembled as his eyes cut into me. My stomach twisted, noting the pain in his gaze. “When I saw you slide off the road, it felt like my heart exploded in my chest. I pulled over, and it felt like it took forever to get to you. When I reached you, you were so still. I thought I’d lost you. I never should’ve let you leave after our fight. I wish I could go back and change that entire conversation.”

He leaned forward, reaching for my hand. I tugged it away. His expression rippled with emotions. He had no right to tear at my heart the way he did.

“I’d rather hear the truth than a lie. Using me to make Jaclyn back off, that’s one thing. At least you were upfront about that. Using me because you knew your parents would find me unacceptable? Unfit to be your girlfriend. That’s just wrong.” I tried to mask how much that hurt. “But it worked for you so. Yeah. You got what you want. You get to go to your camp.”

“Forget about the camp.”

“Why?”

“I’m not going. What happened between you and me, it stopped being about the camp a long time ago.”

His dejected look made me want to throw the vase of flowers at him. “You put me through all of that, and you’re not even going to go? What was the point of it all then? You’re not even making sense.” A sob tore at me, and I gasped, trying to calm the raging pain in my ribs. I knew I was being irrational, but he destroyed what we’d been building…for what? Or maybe I’d been wrong and we had nothing to start with.

“Nutmeg—” He moved toward me again.

“Don’t.” My voice quaked. I desperately did not want to cry anymore. My battered ribs couldn’t take the abuse. “Don’t call me that.”

“The fight we had, it never should’ve happened.” He spoke haltingly, his voice cracking. “I wish I could say more than that. I wish I could explain what really happened.”

“What really happened?” I shook my head. “I was there. I recall what happened.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it as chaotic as the expression he wore. “I can’t get into it. Not yet.”

“More secrets? Or just an excuse?”

I wanted to scrub that dejected look off his face. What right did he have to look so miserable? He was the one who had schemed, had lied, had used me.

“Luke,” I angrily scrubbed a few tears away, “I’m grateful that you were there for me the other night. I’m grateful that you called for help. Other than that, I really have nothing else to say to you. I think you should leave.”

He ground out a sigh. “I made a mistake. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t think the blackmail through. I didn’t know you. You didn’t know me. The idea came to me and I ran with it without considering the consequences.”

“Actions always have consequences.”

He nodded as he got to his feet. My heart twisted into a tangled knot when I saw the shimmer in his eyes. “I guess we’ve both learned that the hard way,” he said, his voice raspy. “Just remember I’m not the only one who pulled off a reckless stunt without thinking it through.”

He slipped out the door, not waiting for a response.