Jaxon takes her hand in his and bows his head toward me, our foreheads almost touching. “You don’t need to tell him that,” he says to Annabelle, “because he already knows you don’t hate him.”
“That’s right,” I say, rubbing my hand up and down her shoulder, forcing a calm I don’t feel. She looks to me. “He’d never believe something so silly as all that.”
“But he left.”
Jaxon and I share a pained glance. “Annabelle …” I flick a glare toward Brody’s father. He doesn’t even notice. Juliet is hovering nearby, but he’s taken a seat away from us, his phone pressed to his ear. My eyes return to Annabelle. “You have to believe me when I tell you that leaving you was not something he ever wanted to do.”
She nods, unsure. “I still want to tell him I don’t hate him. Just so he knows.”
“Of course you can tell him,” Jaxon says.
Juliet steps in. Taking her daughter’s hand, she tugs her off my lap. Annabelle goes reluctantly. “Come on. Let’s go get a coffee.”
“But I don’t drink coffee,” she says as they walk away.
“No, but I do.”
Annabelle glances behind her at both of us, her expression torn. Brody’s little sister needs comfort, and I honestly don’t know if that’s something her parents are physically capable of providing.
Jaxon takes my hand when they disappear, his voice hollow when he asks, “A coma?”
I nod. “That’s all I know. He … Brody died on the way here. He died,” I choke out. Jaxon grabs me, gathering me up in his arms. This time it’s for him and not me. He buries his face in my neck and my palm brushes the back of his head the same way I did for Annabelle. “They managed to revive him, but all the sleeping pills …” I trail off, shaking my head. “Jaxon, what happened? Please tell me.”
Jaxon draws back, glancing in Liam’s direction, but Brody’s father has disappeared as well. In a rough voice he tells me the story, starting from the moment they got out of the car at Brody’s parents’ house, and finishing with when they left.
For a single moment we sit in silence, staring at each other. I’m angry for so many reasons I can’t even count, so fucking angry it makes me shake. “It’s my fault. I sent him there. He was coming to Seattle with me. He was going to watch my finals, and I told him no. I told him he should use his time off to try again. To see Annabelle.”
“It’s not,” Jaxon protests. “It’s mine. I took him back to my apartment and I left him there. I had to hand in an assignment. I wouldn’t have bothered, but it was already overdue and Brody told me he was going to sleep. He was so calm. It was almost eerie.” He wipes at his face, his head tipping back to stare at the ceiling. “Why are we blaming ourselves?”
“It’s easier,” I say with sorrow, my body drained.
He turns his head, looking at me. “Easier?”
“It’s easier to blame ourselves for what happened, rather than believe he would do something like this to himself.”
Brody
I’m trapped beneath a thick sheet of ice and can’t break my way through. I don’t want to be here. The water surrounding me is cold and below me it extends into darkness, its depths infinite. There’s no one else here. It’s empty as far as my eyes can see.
Despite being stuck in this frozen hell, I can still hear everything above me—the beeps of machines and the sounds of people moving and talking around me, sometimes the birds, even the hot buzzing sound that sunshine seems to radiate. Jordan is up there. The sweet scent of vanilla is close. There’s something warm in my hand. I realize it’s anchoring me to the surface, not allowing me to sink down into the dark. Maybe it’s her hand holding mine. I try to squeeze it, to reassure her I’m okay down here, but my body won’t respond, and I don’t know if I’m okay or not.
“Brody?”
A deep wave of warmth rolls through me. I’m here.
“I’m so sorry.”
Her sadness filters through. No! Don’t be sorry. I did this.
Something hot and heavy presses against my arm but I can’t see what it is. I can only feel it. “Jaxon told me what happened. I should’ve been here with you.”
I’m a big boy, Jordan. I don’t need you to hold my hand through every crisis. Which is ironic really because she’s up there right now, holding my hand.
“Why?” she whispers, her voice cracking. It makes me want to weep, but I can’t even do that. “Why would you do this to yourself?”
I didn’t know what I was doing, I tell her. It’s unbearable for her to think I meant this. Forgive me, Jordan. Please, I beg. It just got so hard. And it felt so good, just for once, to not be anything at all.
“The doctors say it’s up to you now, but if you don’t want to be here, then … then … Dammit!” she cries. “I’m not going to tell you it’s okay to go. It’s not. You fight, Brody,” she hisses. “You fucking fight and you don’t stop fighting. I need you.”
I’m fighting. I promise. My fists bang against the sheet of ice, frustration clawing at me. I’m more than a little scared. It’s thick and holding fast. How will I ever get through?
Footsteps filter through above me, getting closer. A new voice speaks. It’s Jaxon. “Any change?”
“No,” Jordan tells him. “Nothing.”
There’s a pause and the rustle of paper. “What’s that?” she asks.
“Trust me, you do not want to read this.”
Jaxon sounds pissed.
“Yes. I do.”
Jordan sounds even pissier.
You won’t win, Jax.
I hear paper ripping, followed by more footsteps and Jaxon’s sharp huff. There’s silence. Whatever it is, Jordan’s reading it. Then she speaks. “Drug Overdose. Rookie NFL star Brody Madden in coma.”
It’s a newspaper headline. Fuck. Jax was right. Don’t read it Jordan.
“Oh god,” she whispers. “They’re tearing him apart.”
They are? That hurts.
Don’t read anymore.
“Not just him,” Jaxon says, resigned.
Not just me?
“You too, Jordan. By association.”
Fucking bastards! I bang my fists harder against the ice, but it does nothing.
“Oh god.” Her voice shakes. “I can’t read anymore.”
No! Keep reading, baby. I need to know what they’re saying about you.
But she doesn’t. The paper makes a slapping sound as if she’s tossed it away. Moments later the warmth of her hand disappears, and I feel myself sinking.
My hand is warm again and I surface.
“Did you miss me?” Jordan asks. She’s trying for flippant, but she doesn’t pull it off. There’s too much pain there.
I did. Every minute you weren’t by my side.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
Who?
There’s warmth on my other hand. Someone else has hold of me now too.
“Brody?”
Oh god. Annabelle.
The sound of a child sobbing reaches my ears. All I can do is lie here and bear hearing them. “I don’t hate you,” she says, hiccupping. “I never did.”
I know, Moo Moo. I love you so much.
“So you can wake up now,” she adds.
I want to, I promise. I just don’t know how.