Page 146 of Unspoken Rules

Yeah, maybe I should. But honestly, I’m a little embarrassed about it. I tried drinking before my last flight into Boston, but it did nothing. So I just suck it up and deal with it.

The seatbelt light comes on, and I know that’s not good. It means we’ve got more turbulence coming.

And boy, do we.

The plane hits a pocket so big, the plane drops. People yelp and cry, items fall. I think I pee my pants a little.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter to myself.

Cole grabs my hand, linking our fingers. I squeeze tight. Hell, I’d have squeezed his hand if he were a stranger.

“It’s okay,” Cole says soothingly. “It isn’t dangerous to us.”

I hear his words, but they mean nothing. I think he sees it isn’t working, because he lets go of my hand and puts his arm around my shoulder, tugging me to him. The arm rest digging into my side is the least of my concerns as I bury my face in his chest and breathe in his calming scent.

The plane rocks again. I grasp onto his shirt, focusing on breathing. On him. On how warm he is, how calm his heartbeat is.

How the hell is it so… normal?

God, how embarrassing is this?

Cole rubs my arm, whispering calming words to me. His voice is soothing. His touch is calming. His smell is… without a doubt the most relaxing of all. Not enough to get me to forget, but enough that I don’t want to cry anymore.

I stay like this for who knows how long. Cole holds me, does what he can to make me feel better. So much so that I fall asleep, holding onto him for dear life.

Chapter Sixty-One

Bryson

My hands are sweating. I’ve been standing outside of Chris’s hospital room for twenty minutes and can’t seem to bring myself to walk inside. No idea what is stopping me. I can’t figure out if it’s guilt or the fear of seeing him connected to tubes and machines. Cole warned me on the way here that he doesn’t look good. It’s scary. I’m grateful for the heads up, but now I’m panicking. Yet I know it isn’t only about seeing him. It’s… what do I say? Will it matter? I guess it’s best to get everything off my chest. Maybe he can hear me. Maybe he can’t. But I have to at least try.

Cole went to the cafeteria to have something to eat. He told me to meet him down there when I was done and to take my time. Tabitha was home getting some sleep, so I shouldn’t be bothered. Mila was here with him earlier.

“You’ll feel better once you go in.”

A woman in blue nurse’s scrubs stops by my side, putting her hands in her pockets. I give her a sad smile. She’s pretty.. Maybe about Cole’s age. Light brown hair with matching eyes.

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m heading in to see how he’s doing. Want to come with me?” Her tone is so sweet and gentle. She sounds like a pro. A people-person. It takes a special kind of person to be a nurse, especially in a unit like this.

“Okay.”

She smiles and opens the door, stepping in first. I close my eyes for a second, take a breath, and walk in.

I stare ahead, afraid to look at Chris who I can faintly make out in my periphery.

The nurse walks over to him to check the machines. She pulls a small notepad from her computer and jots things down. I stop by the end of his bed and close my eyes.

What would Chris do if this were me? If everything was the same, but the only thing different was who was lying in that bed? Would he come visit me? Or was his hatred over what I did too much?

The answer hurts a lot. Because I don’t think he’d be here. I think he was too angry to see past it that he wouldn’t have. Though, I could be very wrong. And I guess I’ll never know.

I force my eyes open and sneak a glance at my friend. My eyes instantly well with tears. My bottom lip trembles, and my hand comes up to cover my mouth. It’s not that he looks awful, which he does, but it’s that he looks so unlike himself. If I didn’t know this was Chris, I wouldn’t know it’s Chris.

His face is covered in purple and red bruises. There’s a gash above his eye with stitches. His lip is healing from a cut. They’re dry and chapped. His hair is greasy and slicked back, longer than I’ve ever seen it before. There are tubes and wires coming out from what looks like every inch of him. Machines everywhere. I see all this on the outside but it’s the brain injury on the inside that’s causing this. Something I can’t even see.

“I know it seems like a lot, and of course it is, but he is comfortable,” the nurse explains.

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