Page 120 of Wreckage

My heart skipped. I’d heard as much, but no one wanted to tell me how much worse off.

“She needed a higher level of care,” he continued. “She’s getting it.”

I stared at him, my pulse pounding.

That was it?

That was all he was going to say?

Something was wrong.

“Can I see her?” I asked, my voice shaking. “What happened? Give me some hope here, Dad.”

My dad hesitated. I hated that hesitation.

“You can’t see her yet,” he finally said. “She needs to rest, Adrian. She was dying when she was brought in. She was starving to death. So were you and Troy, but she was further along. She’s been sleeping for a long time. The doctors are ensuring she gets the nutrition she needs so she’s stronger.

My hands clenched into fists, my throat tight as I tried to contain my emotions. I knew he wasn’t telling me everything. It was more than physical illness. Something else happened, and he was trying to spare me.

I also knew there was no way in hell I was leaving here without seeing her.

Two days later,my dad urged me to rest, telling me the doctors would be evaluating me soon to see if I could be discharged.

I barely heard him because my mind was spinning.

Because all I could think about was Elena and how she needed me. How I was terrified that I’d already lost her. Being alone to sleep every night wasn’t working for me. It got worse each time the sun disappeared, and the moon took its place. Something had snapped inside of me in that wreckage, and I wouldn’t be able to rest until Troy and Elena were back with me.

Tears slid down my cheeks, but I let them fall. I had spent too much time crying over things I couldn’t change. Awful shit I’d done. It was time to fight for something I could change. I had been given a second chance, and I wouldn’t waste it. It was a thought I kept repeating in my head.

I wasn’t going to let her slip away. I wasn’t going to let this destroy us. I would make her love me and Troy again if it was the last thing I did.

Chapter 43

Elena

Ihad been in the hospital for over three weeks. Twenty-one days of white walls, quiet voices, incessant beeping, and way too much damn time to think.

I was awake. My body was weak, but I was here, And I wished I wasn’t.

Steve had been in and out, always gentle, careful, never pushing too hard. I knew what he wanted to say. I knew what everyone wanted to say.

Troy and Adrian want to see you.

The nurses kept telling me how charming and sweet they were and how I was lucky to have two big brothers to protect me. I smiled politely each time and said nothing except that I didn’t want any visitors except for Steve. I’d get a confused look, but I didn’t care if they were confused as long as they listened.

Troy and Adrian had been released the day before. They were in a hotel room next to Steve’s, waiting for me to get out.

I knew this. Steve told me they were driving him up the wall with constant questions.

And yet… I couldn’t see them.

Not yet. Maybe not ever. My mind wasn’t in a good place. Confusionran rampant through me. Having eaten… Dean, being lied to about it. Had I known, I would have chosen starvation over doing that.

Even now, my stomach twisted, and I kept throwing up. It was one of the reasons they continued to keep me. Whenever I’d eat, I’d throw up. I couldn’t get Dean out of my head. I’d told the doctor. He’d given me a sympathetic look while the nurse looked heartbroken before looking away. Or maybe it was horror. She’d turned quickly.

But they’d sent in a psychiatrist to meet with me. I’d told her how I felt; she’d been kind and told me how to focus. I’d managed to keep my last four meals down, so I was making progress, but it took all I had to do it.

Steve sat by my bedside, his expression kind but firm.

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