Page 141 of The Perfect Love

“Soon. Keep breathing.”

“Do my best. Bye.”

She hangs up, and I follow the paramedics out of the apartment. My mom is pulling up to the curb, which is good since they won’t let me ride in the ambulance with Hyla.

I fucking hate that. But it’s probably for the best. They don’t need me glaring at them the whole way. Or having a panic attack from staring at her body. Wondering if she’s going to die.

Mom pulls me into her arms, and I hold her tightly, fighting back my emotion. I know she’s scared and pissed and probably wants to rip Hyla’s parents’ heads off.

The naggingwhat ifin the back of my mind is ugly.

What if she dies?

She seems like she’ll be okay—whatever the fuck okay is after all this—but what if I hadn’t found her? What if it still wasn’t fast enough? I’m not—I can’t lose her. I call Hyla my sister because she is. She’s my best friend. Aside from Chelsea, no one knows me like her. No one sees me like her. She came to our house as often as she could after my dad died, just to try to bring us light and joy and make us smile. We always did. Because that’s Hy. Bringing joy to the world when her own is shattering.

I failed her.

When she needed me the most, I let her down, and I don’t know how to forgive myself for that.

The rhythmic beep of hospital monitors threatens to drive me insane as I sit by Hyla’s bed, waiting for her to wake up.

Mom’s on the other side, intently reading something on her phone. Thankfully, Mom has taken over and made the executive decision to keep all of this from Hyla’s parents. Which is doable since Hyla is twenty-one and on her own insurance.

Mom sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Besides the obvious.

“I’m trying to figure out what her insurance will actually cover. Too many insurances pretend mental health isn’t important. Clearly it fucking is.”

She sets the phone to the side and lets out a shuddery breath.

“Mom,” I whisper, reaching over the hospital bed for her hand.

She takes it, but it doesn’t stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

“I should’ve done more to help her,” she breathes. “All these years I stuck it out, putting up with all of her parents’ bullshit just to be there for her, but I should’ve done more. I—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I tell her, even as I feel the weight of that blame on my own shoulders.

Maybe I didn’t get all my protectiveness from my dad. My mom is just more subtle about it.

There’s a sharp breath and Mom and I pull apart and stand, both of us staring at the bed. My eyes are tired and itchy from crying, but I stare, refusing to blink until…

Hyla mutters something as her eyes slowly open.

She looks around in a haze, but I see the moment realization hits her all at once.

Then she’s crying, and Mom leans forward, gently sweeping some hair off Hyla’s face.

“Shh, baby. It’s okay. You’re here with us. You’re here.”

Hyla clamps a hand over her mouth as she sobs, but I can’t move. I’m still standing here, staring at her.

All I manage is to whisper, “Don’t fucking do that again.”

“Trevor,” Mom says, voice gentle but firm.

Probably not the best words, but I can’t stop them.

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