Page 43 of Returning Your Love
Bile burned the back of my throat as I considered the secret wish I’d had floating around in my head ever since I’d come home.
That Shelly would be gone. Dead.
My head moved in a slow back and forth shake of denial.
She—not like this. Please.
I choked on a sob, tears suddenly rolling down my face. It’d been years since I even considered believing in a god, but I started whispering prayers to every single one I knew the name of, begging for Chaz’s wife to be okay.
“No way this is happening,” I cried out, smashing my elbow into the driver side window and only hurting myself.
No whisper of assurance from any god soothed my anger. The turmoil continued to roil in my chest, making breathing difficult.
I swiped at the wetness on my cheeks, telling myself over and over, “I’ve got this.” All three of us would get through whatever awaited, and I would change my thoughts toward Shelly. Be a better friend. Be there for thembothand offer support in whatever capacity I could.
I had my emotions somewhat under control when I rushed into the nearly empty ER and saw Chaz sitting in the small waiting room, elbows on knees, gaze on the floor. His shoulders slumped, defeat written in his posture.
My heart seized up, skipping a beat.
Oh fucking hell.
Swallowing hard and tears once more threatening, I hurried toward him, the stench of chemicals burning my nose. “Chaz!”
He lifted red-rimmed eyes but didn’t stand or burst into sobs. Chaz simply watched me approach, his face void of emotion while I swallowed convulsively to remain stoic.
Was he in shock?
I’d expected him to be an absolute mess like I was inside.
I knelt in front of him, grabbing hold of his hands and searching for a hint of what he was thinking, where his mind was—how his wife fared.
“Shelly?” I whispered, my throat closing off.
“In surgery,” he muttered, his tone just as unmoved as his face. “Massive internal injuries. Doesn’t look good.” He pressed his lips tight and glanced toward the doorway, eyes still dry as a bone.
“Fuck. Jesus, Chaz.” I threw my arms around him and squeezed, but he stayed passive in my arms, a limp fish who’d been out of water for too long. There was no point in lingering. Chaz was past accepting comfort of any sort. Releasing him, I slid onto the chair beside my best friend, grasping his hand in mine, refusing to break contact if only for my own sanity.
He squeezed—proof of life—but didn’t speak. Thankfully, he didn’t pull away.
“I’m here, Chaz,” I rasped. “Whatever you need, okay?”
“Thanks, brother.”
We sat in silence, my mind stewing and continuing with those goddamn prayers on repeat as the minutes ticked past. More than anything, I wanted to wrap my pinkie around his but didn’t feel the freedom to do so. Wasn’t sure he’d allow it anyway.
The occasional sound of the automatic doors swishing open around the corner to admit people into the hospital reached us. At least we had the small waiting room to ourselves and didn’t have to attempt conversation with strangers.
A code broke the stillness from the overhead speakers, taking me back to the hospital in Texas. A blown knee wasn’tshitcompared to this kind of trauma.
That purpose I’d been searching for hit me like a goddamned Mac truck. I’d been too blinded by my woe-is-me attitude to see the truth.
My sole reason for breathing was to stand by my loved ones. Help them on the journey they’d chosen for themselves even if it didn’t include me being by their side. A job just afforded me the ability to exist on earth. It didn’t matter what occupation I ended up with or even where.
I would support and edify those I cared about no matter the situation. Whether they returned my love or not.
My ass grew numb, as a sense of peace settled into my heart. The newfound revelation didn’t rid my mind of worry though. If anything truly happened to Shelly, I would never forgive myself. Couldn’t even begin to imagine?—
A guy in scrubs appeared in the room’s entryway. Same as my best friend, the doc showed zero emotion.
