Page 147 of Unspoken Rules

“Thank you for that,” I choke out.

She moves around his bed and fixes his sheets and pillows. I just keep staring at Chris.

“You can use the chair here, if you’d like.” The nurse points to the chair beside Chris’s bed. I go to it and sit, resting my elbows on my knees. “I’ll be out of your hair in just a moment.”

I don’t respond. I stay in the same position, staring at my feet, until she leaves. Just before she goes out the door, she lets me know that if I need anything to press the call button, and she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with Chris.

I sit back, blowing out a breath, then turn to him. I spot all the machines, not a clue what half of them mean. They’re monitoring all sorts of things, but I couldn’t tell you what. I know nothing about any of this stuff.

The generic white blankets are pulled up tight to his chin, his arms resting over them. There is an IV in both hands, plus a monitor on his finger. He’s breathing on his own, so I think that’s a good thing. A lot of people in comas require ventilation, so maybe it’s a sign he’ll wake up soon? Or maybe I just made that up. I’m not a doctor.

I try to follow each wire that’s hooked up to him to figure out what it belongs to, but I keep losing track because there are too many. All it does is make me sick and sad. I hate seeing him like this. Hate being helpless. Hate knowing he could be like this forever. Would they leave him like this? Like a life-support thing if that’s an option? Or would they pull the plug and let him die? No, they wouldn’t be letting him die. If it’s only machines keeping him alive, then he isn’t alive. His parents wouldn’t be the ones killing him. They’d just be letting him go.

“Hey, Chris,” I say softly. “It’s Bryson.” I clear my throat, trying to decide what I want to say to him. After a moment, I decide I want to say it all because now is the time. I may never get another chance to say this to him. Whether or not he can hear me, I need to get this off my chest. So I just start talking.

“I know you’re pissed at me. I don’t blame you for that. What I did was fucked up. I know that. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I hurt you. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to stop myself from giving in. I should have, but I couldn’t because I’m weak. Everyone knows this about me…” My words trail off as a thought hits me.

Everyone knows how I am. Knows I’m shy and quiet and weak. Except Cole. He is the only person who pushes me to do better. To come out of my shell and be the real me. Even my friends don’t do that. They accept me for what I show them, and tell me I’m a good person, but Cole pushes me to do better. Because he knows, deep down, the person I show the world isn’t really who I am.

Does Chris know that too?

The answer hurts, so I push it away because this isn’t why I’m here. I’m here to apologize to Chris for what I did. Beg for forgiveness. Clear my conscience.

“I wish I knew when it happened. My feelings for him? When we were young, I had an innocent crush on Cole. How could I not? At some point, being back here, it turned into more. I wish I could have stopped it from happening, but you know the universe likes to fuck with me.” I huff out a laugh, but really, it’s not funny. “I just want you to know that since that day, nothing has happened. And it won’t ever again. Hurting you is the last thing either of us wanted to do. I’m sorry I was weak before, but I won’t be ever again. You’re my best friend. You’re the person who has always been there for me. What you think matters, and I don’t want to ruin this friendship. I can’t. It’s all I have.”

I reach over and take his hand. It’s warm, but it feels strange to hold someone’s hand who doesn’t hold it back.

More tears fill my eyes, and they fall this time. Pour down my cheeks. I bow my head and allow myself to let it all out. I allow myself to feel everything. The anger, sadness, betrayal… the loss. Not just with Chris, but with everything. Growing up with my father. My mother. Cole.

Sitting here at Chris’s bedside, I know moving to Boston was the best choice I ever made. It’s the right thing to do. I need to leave this place behind and never look back.

Chapter Sixty-Two

Bryson

There are a lot of people in the cafeteria, a mix of hospital staff and visitors. I find Cole sitting at a table in the back corner. He’s doing something on his phone but puts it down when I reach him. I sit in the booth across from him and he slides the red tray toward me.

“It’s all probably cold now, but it’s something,” he says as I look over the chicken tenders and fries. “They don’t have much to choose from down here.”

“Thanks.”

It’s all I can say. I’m numb after talking to Chris. Numb after seeing him. After spilling my guts and allowing myself to let out all the pain I’ve been carrying around. I feel a little lighter after sharing my side of things with him, but I’m not sure that’s going to help me in the long run. Because it didn’t actually fix anything. Didn’t make anything better. Maybe it cleared my conscience a little. I apologized and said my piece, but I still don’t have Cole. Chris is still lying there in a coma and the last memories he has of me are terrible ones.

I pick at the food while trying to find a flight back home. Of course there’s nothing until tomorrow afternoon. I spoke to my manager before I left, letting him know I may need a few days off depending on how things go. He told me to send him an email this evening with what my plans are, just so he knows. If I can get home tomorrow, I should be good to go back to work on Tuesday. There’s no point in not working. Staying home is only going to give my brain more time to overthink shit, which is the last thing I want.

“I’m going back to Boston tomorrow afternoon. It’s the first flight they have.”

Cole nods. “You can stay at the house.”

I shake my head. “That’s the worst idea ever.”

“I swear I’ll leave you alone. You still have some stuff there you need to grab anyway.”

His gaze is on his phone, and I take a moment to watch him. Everything about his face tells me how tired he is. How stressed. I have to look away before I allow my empathy to get the best of me.

“Fine,” I relent, knowing he isn’t going to take no for an answer, and there is a lock on the door so I can keep him out. Not that I’m worried about it, but it may make me feel better.

Honestly, I don’t have the energy to fight with him or anyone. I’ve already made up my mind about Cole and me. It can’t happen. I’ve said it a hundred times before, but this time I mean it. I never meant it before. It was just what I said because I was supposed to. Because it was the right thing to do. Now that I’ve had time away from him, time to reflect on everything that happened, I know it’ll never work for us. All it’s going to do is hurt. It hurts enough now; I can’t make it worse. Not sure I’d be able to handle that.

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