Page 77 of Make Me Dream of You

“Oh, my god!” Tears are streaming down Bex’s cheeks.

Livvy looks so small. I want to go to her, cover her up, wrap her in the blankets and hold her close. But Bex throws herself over her and hugs her tight, rolling Livvy away from me. Her hand slips out of mine.

“Hey.” A warm hand clasps my shoulder and I look up at Wood, his face pale, expression sober. “She’s going to be okay. An ambulance is on the way. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” I say, standing. The breeze is cool on my cheeks, and I realize they’re wet with tears. I wipe them with my palms. I want to say of course I’m okay, I’m just worried for Livvy, but he knows.

He knows I’m not okay.

He knows what kind of thoughts are clawing around in my head right now.

“She’s going to be okay,” he reassures again.

I nod. I want it to be true. I want to believe him.

The paramedics arrive just as Macy runs out. She and Bex don’t leave Livvy’s side the entire time they attend to her, giving her oxygen and checking her vitals.

She’s awake and talking.

I’m pacing along the beach, hands still shaking.

I can’t stop replaying the moment I realized she’d gone under. What if I hadn’t seen her? What if we couldn’t find her? What if instead of sitting there on the beach, she was at the bottom of the lake?—

And then I think about them. My family. The accident.

The water.

Cameron.

But that’s not Livvy. They say her vitals are good, but they’re going to take her to the ER and keep her overnight, just to monitor her and make sure she’s safe.

They load her into the ambulance, Bex climbing in after her, holding her hand, her face tear streaked.

Just before they close the doors, Livvy’s eyes meet mine—wide and watery and beautiful and it feels like I should be the one in the back of the ambulance with her, holding her hand and telling her that everything’s fine.

It kills me that it’s not me.

Wood and I follow with Macy and Jake in the backseat. Spencer decided to go back to bed.

They’ll only allow family in her room after hours. So, I sit outside her room in a little chair with scratchy gray fabric and a worn-out seat cushion. I pace. I watch the clock. I sit back down.

Finally, Bex comes out of the room. I stand, straining to look into the room before the door closes behind her.

“She’s sleeping,” Bex says.

“We should go get some rest, too. We can come back in the morning,” Macy says.

“I’m staying here,” I say.

“Me, too,” Bex adds.

“All right. We’ll stay.” Macy nods.

“I’ll go find some coffee,” Wood says. “Do you need anything, Mace? A snack?”

“I’m fine.”

He tilts his head as he looks at her. “You haven’t eaten in a while.”

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