Page 144 of The Perfect Love

The door swings open, then Liz strolls in, a bright smile gracing her face when she sees us.

“There are my girls.”

Something inside me cracks when she says that. That she thinks of me as a daughter. Crap. Tears well in my eyes and Hyla laughs.

“Yeah, she’s good at getting that reaction.”

“I’m sorry my love makes people cry,” Liz says playfully.

As much as I loved being raised with Gran as my maternal role model, I find myself wondering what it would’ve been like to be raised by Liz. She’s strong, fierce, deeply loving, but also so vibrant and playful.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite girls,” Trevor says, strolling into the room. He’s got that casual calm mask on. There’s even a hint of playfulness there, but I know beneath it all, there’s a storm brewing.

“Suck up,” Liz teases.

Trevor kisses my forehead, then Hyla’s.

Then he gives Liz his sweetest smile.

He sits down in the chair beside the bed and an unimportant conversation picks up, but as I sit here, Trevor’s knee brushing my leg and Hyla’s hand wrapped around mine, it hits me that this is my family. A new one. One I wasn’t expecting to have, but one I love nonetheless.

I’m grateful I can be here, not just for Trevor or Hyla or Liz individually, but as a whole. To be their support and walk through this with them.

I’m so thankful Trevor found me, that I didn’t push him away, and we ended up here.

I’m glad Hyla was manifesting it.

But I think fate was manifesting it for longer.

It’s close to 7:00 p.m. when we finally leave the hospital. Liz is staying with Hyla overnight, so it’s just Trevor and me, and the second we walk out the doors and into the brisk cold of mid-January, the mask he was wearing slips off, and he looks like he did when I first got to the hospital. Empty. Broken. Numb.

Twining my fingers with his, I lead him down the street to my car, then drive us back to his house. He’s silent the whole way. We get back to the house, and while he takes a shower, I make ramen noodles. Everything is steeped in silence.

It’s not until he climbs into bed with me that he finally lets go.

His chest shudders with a sob, and I curl my body around his, holding him tightly, letting him cry like he did at the hospital. Except this is worse. The noise he makes with every gut-wrenching sob tears my heart apart. I wish I could take his pain. He’s holding on to too much.

I stroke my hand over his cheek, fingertips brushing his soft curls.

“I failed her,” he chokes out. “I shouldn’t have tried to handle it alone. I should’ve—should’ve—”

“You did the best you could.”

“It wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. I should’ve protected her. Shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did with her parents.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say firmly. “She’s where she needs to be to get help now.”

He shakes his head. “All I can think about is those horror stories of people killing themselves inside the mental health units. What if she just put on that happy face? What if—” He coughs on a sob, and I hold him tighter. I don’t know what else to do.

“We both saw her before we left. There was genuine light in her eyes. Plus, your mom is there. I know it’s scary, but she’s safe. It will take time to heal, but she will.”

“But I could have lost her. I thought I did. I thought she was dead. And now, every time I close my eyes, all I can see is her lying on the floor, bleeding. I can’t lose her. I can’t lose anything—anyone—else.”

He lost his dad. He lost his ability to play baseball. And as I’ve slowly begun to realize, when he had that accident, he lost parts of his humor and his happiness. He’s damn good at making it look like he’s fine, but he’s not. I’m the only one he shows that to.

I lace my fingers through his curls, tugging at them, playing with them. Anything to comfort him.

“At least my mom didn’t have to see it. Didn’t have to see her like that. I’d do it all over again as long as my mom wouldn’t have to. She’s lost more than me.”

---