Page 76 of This Life and All the Rest
“Saved him from a busted leg, a discharge, and six-plus-months of rehab,” I say after some thought. “If that qualifies as his life, I guess it’s a matter of perception.”
She’s quiet again, eyes scanning my face, lips pursed. She tilts her head to the side and pulls her lower lip between her teeth.
For a few breaths, she just studies me. Long enough that my heart is beating loudly in my head and goosebumps erupt on the back of my neck.
“Is it weird,” she says slowly, “if I say I’m not surprised? That you’d hurt yourself protecting someone else?”
I tilt my head to match hers, hold her gaze, then say honestly, “that makes one of us.”
TWENTY-ONE
The only thingI can think as I drive to the hospital is howMaconthat whole story was.
He’s always put others before his own well-being. It’s what fueled his demons in high school. He’s always felt others’ pain more strongly than his own.
And, selfishly, I wonder, why couldn’t he have done that for me? I would have done it for him. I tried to. Hell, once upon a time, I did.
I would’ve loved him with everything in me.
Why couldn’t he have loved me the same?
It would have been nice not to shoulder all the pain by myself.
Sam tried. She was wonderful.
But at the heart of it all, I needed Macon.
I’ve slipped twice now since I’ve been back, and I hate myself for it. I can feel myself falling back into old, unhealthy patterns.
Being here is weakening me.
Being around him is forcing me into a mindset I thought I’d outgrown. I thought I was smarter, stronger, but I’m not. I let my body override my good sense, and then I was overcome with shame.
Shame and fear.
I can tell it’s going to hurt more this time. I need to get back to Paris. I need to get out of this town. I need to get away from Macon and Claire.
I can’t be awash in nostalgia for much longer.
I’ll drown this time. I know it.
* * *
“Hey, Pumpkin,”Daddy says when I step through the door.
I walk to his bedside and give him a long hug.
“Did you get some rest?” I ask.
“As much as I could hooked up to all this,” he says, gesturing to the monitors. I give him a sympathetic smile.
“You’ll be out of here soon. Have they given you a date, yet?”
“Not yet. They still want to monitor me. My heart’s not as strong as they’d like.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re, like, the healthiest person I know. It’s almost annoying.”
He barks out a raspy laugh, then smiles.
