Aiden’s door is still closed when we go upstairs. The young nurse from before is working again and sticks her head out the door to tell us everything is fine but they need a few more minutes. Avery and I go back into the waiting room.
“Our mum’s plane lands in two hours. They haven’t spoken in years. Did Aiden tell you what happened?” she asks, casting her eyes down, ashamed.
“He did.”
Avery nods. “I wish I could have done something, but we were so young, and I—”
“He doesn’t blame you. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
She forces a smile. “I know you’re right. But I still do. I could have told a teacher, a friend…anyone, and maybe it would have stopped.”
“Or maybe you’d have gotten hit too,” I say, letting her know I understand her fear. It hurts me to think of them growing up in that house, fearing their father and resenting their mother for doing nothing.
“He protected me,” she says, teary eyed again. “He still does. He sends me money. Last month he sent fifty thousands pounds. I can only be a stay-at-home mum because of the money he sends. He says it’s important for me to be home with the kids, since we didn’t have that growing up.” She wipes her eyes. “I miss my kids. They’re home with my husband.” Tears run down her face. “They’ve never met their uncle Aiden before. I really hope they get to.”
My heart aches again, and I wonder how much more I can take before it just gives out and stops working. Avery wipes her eyes and says she’s going to lie down in the guest room for a bit. I promise to get her if anything happens and sit in the waiting room alone.
The ICU door opens and the nurse tells me I can come in. She’s smiling. “I have a little surprise,” she says, ushering us into Aiden’s room. “No more vent!”
And now I’m smiling, looking at Aiden lying in the bed with no tubes coming out of his mouth. He’s still sleeping—or in a coma, I guess, since there is a difference—but he doesn’t look so critical anymore. I watch his chest rise and fall, thinking it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
“He’s breathing on his own?” I have to ask, just to be sure this isn’t a trick.
“He is!” she says with another smile. “And his intracranial pressure has been stable and normal for days now.”
I flick my eyes to the brain pressure monitor. “So he’s going to be okay?”
Her smile wavers. “I still can’t say until he wakes up, and there’s still a lot riding on so many different things. But I can say that from what I’ve seen, he’s making good progress. He’s a fighter, that I know for sure. And he has a good cheerleader.”
I’m crying again, for the millionth time since I arrived at the hospital. It’s a wonder how I have any tears left. I go to the chair by the head of the bed and link my fingers through Aiden’s. The room is quieter with out the whooshing of the vent.
“Hi, Aiden,” I say softly as I put my hand on his cheek. “You’re doing so well, baby. I’m so proud of you.” I lean over and gently kiss him, my heart fluttering when my lips touch his.
His fingers tighten around mine. I freeze. Did I really just feel that?
“Aiden?” I whisper again and wait. Then he does it again, squeezing my hand. I turn, but the nurse has slipped out of the room. “Aiden? It’s me, Haley. Can you hear me?” I kiss him again and run my fingers over his stubble-covered face. “If you can hear me, squeeze my fingers.”
I wait, my heart in my throat, and nothing happens. I close my eyes, tears streaming down my face, and sit down in the chair next to the bed.
Then he squeezes my hand. Hard. I stand up again, and his eyelids flutter. I gasp and press the call button for the nurse. “Aiden, I’m here, baby. I’m right here. I’m here for you.”
The nurse hurries in. “Is everything okay?”
“I think he’s waking up,” I say, not taking my eyes off of Aiden. “He’s squeezing my hand.” His eyes flutter again.
“He might be.” The nurse unclips a phone from her waistband and leaves the room, calling the doctor or another nurse, probably.
I lean over the bed and stroke Aiden’s cheek. “I’m here,” I say. “It’s okay. Take your time.”
Aiden’s eyes open for two seconds, not focusing on anything, before shutting. I keep talking to him, telling him it’s okay and that I’m here. His fingers tighten around mine and his legs twitch.
The nurse returns with a syringe of medication. “He might be really confused,” she tells me. “And might not know who you are. Don’t worry just yet. Give him time to adjust.”
I nod. “Aiden, it’s Haley. I’m right here.”
His eyes open again, and he looks around the room, blinking. He twists his hand around in mine and laces our fingers. Our eyes meet and he parts his lips.
“Haley,” he says, his voice raw and scratchy.
“I’m here, Aiden.” Tears are falling down my face. “I love you.”
His eyes flutter shut again. “I love you,” he whispers. “Always.”
Chapter 28
Everything hurts. I don’t know where I am, or why I can’t move. My throat is so dry and my tongue sticks to the sides of my mouth. Haley is looking down at me, crying. What is happening? My eyes close and I’m tired, so tired. I must have taken something, a bad combination of pills. Fuck. I didn’t mean to—again. And not in front of Haley.
“It’s okay,” Haley soothes. “I’m here, Aiden.”
A door opens and a man with a heavily accented voice comes in, speaking to Haley and someone else, I think. Haley’s hand slips off mine. I try to reach for her, lifting my left arm up and am hit with a horrible pain. My eyes flutter open and I realize I’m not in Haley’s bedroom. Panic sears through me. What the fuck? Why is Haley walking away? I need her. She can’t leave me.
“Hi Aiden,” someone says, speaking slowly. “It’s Dr. Gupta. Can you hear me talking to you?”
A doctor? I look away from Haley, who is standing in the back of the room. My eyes haven’t adjusted and I can’t see her features. Just her outline.
“Yeah,” I tell the doctor. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital,” he says. “You were in an accident. What do you remember?”
From there, I go through a battery of tests. I become more and more alert as time passes. I’m told I was in a bad car wreck over a week ago, and that I’ve been in a coma ever since.
I don’t remember anything.
The last thing I remember was waking up in Haley’s bed, missing her while she was at work, and knowing that I had to come back to California for work before I could return to her. Then everything is black.
I’m fucked up and injured. Thankfully I’m kept heavily medicated. Just looking at the bars screwed into my arm makes me queasy. I thought rods and screws went under the skin. I can’t think about it or I’ll puke, though I’m sure there is nothing to come up. It’s not like I was able to eat while I was in a coma.
When the doctor finally leaves, Haley comes back in. I want to sit up and hold her and kiss her, but I can’t. I can’t even lift my head.
“Haley,” I say and look into her eyes. She’s crying again, but the tears are happy. She comes to my bedside and takes my hand.
“Aiden,” she soothes and leans over, kissing me. I smile and curl my fingers around hers. She wasn’t in the car with me, was she?
Someone else steps into the room, closing the door behind them. I click my eyes past Haley and get hit with emotion when I see my sister.
“Aiden,” Avery says, tears streaming down her face. I swallow the lump in my throat and hold Haley’s hand tighter. Avery comes over and gently hugs me.
“Hi,” I croak out, throat still dry. “You got old,” I say and smile.
Avery laughs and wipes tears from her face. “And you haven’t aged a day. It’s not fair.”
I smile back. “It’s Hollywood magic.”