Page 91 of Love You From Afar

Dry your tears. Be strong for him.

Room 405

My gaze lifts to the small whiteboard hanging above the room number, my heart stopping when I see “Everett Thompson” scribbled in dry-erase marker.

I can faintly see the names of other patients who have been in this exact room. Their names have been erased, but pieces of them are still here. I wonder how many people have died in this very room. I wonder how many people have hugged their families after a miracle. I lift my hand to the whiteboard, brushing my thumb along his name, the bottom of the “E” wiping away on my skin.

“I love you,” I whisper, hating myself for never telling him in person.

I take my final step into the room, and it takes everything for me to not fall to my knees.

My world shatters into a million splintered pieces. Time ceases to exist. All I hear is the persistent beeping of a machine attached to Everett’s heartbeat. My vision tunnels, blocking out anything from view except the beautiful, broken man lying in the hospital bed before me.The love of my life.

His golden-brown hair flops against his forehead, looking longer than it was this morning. I fight the urge to go to him and run my fingers through the thick locks. A deep cut slashes through his left eyebrow, and a blackish-blue bruise circles his closed eye. I notice that most, if not all of his cuts and bruises map down the left side of his body. It all makes sense when I remember Claire telling me that the other vehicle crashed into the driver’s side of Everett’s truck. My gaze follows the crimson scrapes marking his cheek before trailing down to the bloody gash splitting his bottom lip.

A clear tube rests against his face, delivering oxygen through his nostrils. Wires disappear beneath his hospital gown, tracking the rhythm of his heart. Dark bruises run down the length of his arm, leading to the IV pushing fluids into his veins. A thin blanket rests against his hips, shielding the lower half of his body from view.

There’s no way to hold back my broken sobs as I step further into the room. I grab an empty chair near to the bed, sliding it closer until he’s within arm’s reach. I take a seat at the right side of the bed, which is such a stark difference from the left side of his body.

A muffled cry leaves my throat as I reach for him, sliding my hand beneath his. His hand doesn't even flinch when I intertwine our fingers together. I brush my thumb against the back of his hand, letting his warm skin soothe a small part of me.

“Everett…” I whimper as uncontrollable tears leak down my cheeks. His dark eyelashes flutter, and I pray that maybe, just maybe, he can hear me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I should have never let you go. You should have gotten on that plane with me. You shouldn't be here,” I rasp, my chest hiccuping with strangled cries.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Everett.”

I lift my free hand, gently caressing the rough skin of his forearm. My fingers tremble as I worry that my touch may never be reciprocated.

No, I think to myself.He’s going to be okay.

“You’re going to get through this,” I rasp, my voice shaking. “You’re going to make it, my love. We’re going to walk out of this hospital together and start our lives in Dallas. I don’t care who knows or what anyone else thinks. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

My lips tremble as I reach for his forehead, carefully brushing the thick curls away from his pale skin. I suck in a deep breath as I prepare to tell him what I wish I would have said days ago.

“If you can hear anything I’m saying, please listen to this,” I beg between broken sobs.

“I love you, Everett. I love you so much. I’m sorry it took so long to tell you, but I fucking love you. And this isn't the end. It can’t be. You promised me. You promised that you would be okay.”

I lean down, pressing my forehead to his arm as I let it all out. Everything I’ve been holding back comes rushing out like a waterfall. Silent sobs wrack through my body as my lungs fight for air. I don’t know if minutes or hours pass, but when I finally lift my head and catch my breath, I brush the backs of my fingers along his cheek.

“You’re going to be okay, my love,” I whisper. “I just got you back. You have to make it because I feel like my life just started, and I can’t live it without you. The stars won’t shine as bright without you.” I gently squeeze his hand, imagining that he squeezes mine back.

Tears blur my vision as I stare at his beautiful, rugged face. I think about how his lips felt against mine less than eight hours ago. How is it possible for life to change so drastically in the blink of an eye?

“I love you,” I say breathlessly, repeatedly whispering those three words like a sacred prayer.

My breath hitches as I hear shuffling in the corner of the room. I slowly turn my head, my eyes widening when I realize that we have company. Sitting on a small couch in the dimly lit corner is Claire. I don’t have time to think or form a coherent sentence before she speaks.

“Oh my God,” she rasps, her hand shaking as it moves to cover her mouth. Her eyes are rimmed with red, her cheeks damp with tears as her gaze darts between me and Everett.

She just saw everything. She heard everything. Every last word.

“You’re… You’re in love with my son,” she exhales through trembling fingers.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Skylar

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