The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (307 page)

The house was dark and quiet as I descended the stairs. I found Dad in the kitchen with Mazie, a low lamp sending a single beam of light across the tiled floor. It felt much later than one thirty—the time advertised on the oven as I passed—but on a work night in the middle of harvest season, most of us crashed by ten or so. Waking any earlier than sunrise left me feeling a little muddled on a normal night. Right now, my brain was mush—nothing made sense. What was my mother doing in a car in the middle of the night, anyway?

Mazie handed Dad and I each a full to-go cup before pressing Dad’s keys into his hand. I noticed it shook slightly as he took them, and my chest hurt to see his worry displayed so obviously. It made my heart break for him all over again.

“You’ll call everyone?” Dad asked as Mazie ushered us out the door.

“I’ll call everyone,” she promised. “Now go.”

County Hospital wasn’t far but the drive seemed to last forever. Dad and I didn’t speak. I knew he was worried and wrapped up in his thoughts. We had such little information to go on. She was okay. Stable, they’d said. I tried to focus on that, and not on the way Dad’s forehead creased with extra worry lines or the fact that this woman kept breaking his heart, albeit unintentionally this time, but still ... couldn’t she stop making him sad?

Guilt washed over me for thinking that when she was possibly hurt. But the anger rose, unbidden, right alongside the worry and fear for her well-being. I wanted her to be okay. But I also wanted to be mad. I wasn’t sure how the two feelings co-existed, but they did. And it made me feel all kinds of tossed around by the time we pulled into visitor parking on the emergency side.

My phone buzzed in my hand and I jumped at the unexpected vibration. I willed my pulse to slow enough to breathe before answering it. “Casey,” I said. My voice had a slight waver but at least there weren’t tears. Yet.

“What’s the word?” His tone held a combination of sleep and worry. In the background, I heard a car door shut and an engine crank. I tried not to let it affect me, but the familiarity of his voice, the knowledge he was already in the car, it comforted me—and threatened to break me down right here in the parking lot. I swallowed hard.

“Not sure yet. We just got here. Dad was told she’s stable, though.”

“Well, that’s something. Hold the fort. We’ll be there in ten.”

I faltered mid-step. “We?”

“Ford and I.” He said it like it was completely obvious that Ford would be included for something like this. It warmed me to see him becoming such a close part of my family. To see everyone else accepting him so easily. I barely felt the pang in my gut—my body’s way of not letting me forget this was all temporary. Knowing he was coming eclipsed any amount of sadness.

“Thanks, Casey,” I said, hurrying to catch up with Dad as we strode toward the sliding doors. “And hurry.”

“We’ll be there soon,” Casey said before disconnecting.

Inside the lobby, I blinked over and over. It was lit up like a landing strip in here, the bustle of uniforms amping up my stress level from the sheer energy of it all. I followed Dad to the front desk and waited while he gave my mother’s name to the nurse on duty. She gave each of us a sticker to wear with the room number on it and hit the button for the automatic door behind her.

“All the way to the end, take a left. Then it’s the third room on the right,” she called after us.

“Thank you,” Dad called over his shoulder, pulling me along.

When I turned the corner and saw a group of EMTs standing outside her room, my stomach dropped hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. I halted and grabbed for the wall, the fear paralyzing me. Black spots danced in front of my eyes, blocking out the entire left side of Dad’s frown as he turned back to me.

“Summer?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. “Summer, she’s fine. We’re almost there. Breathe,” he added in a firm voice.

I obeyed, sucking in air through lungs that were stuck. It sounded raspy but it succeeded in putting all my organs back where they belonged. After a few more labored breaths, my heart no longer felt lodged in my knees. I straightened but kept one hand on the wall, taking tiny steps toward my mother’s room. Part of me didn’t want to get there and see what sort of damage had been done.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, feeling anything but.

What if it was bad? What if she wasn’t okay? What if I never got the chance to forgive her?

In that moment I realized the anger at my mother wasn’t nearly as permanent as I thought. She was my mother. The one person in the whole world I could be mad at and say whatever I needed because at the end of the day, she would love me no matter what. But that only applied if she was still around to love me. I needed her to be around.

My dad reached the door first, which was actually a curtain. The EMTs parted to let us pass. I didn’t make eye contact with a single one of them. Instead, I stared at the squares on my dad’s flannel shirt as I followed him inside.

The room smelled like the rest of the place: sterile to the point of unpleasant. A small counter with a sink lined one wall and a whiteboard filled with scribbled names and numbers hung on the other.

“Dean.” I heard my mother’s voice as my dad moved to her side, leaving me exposed and giving me no choice but to look at her. I stood rooted to the spot as I took in the sight of my beautiful, capable mother, laying bandaged in a hospital bed.

“Hey,” Dad said. My parents shared a smile and he took the hand she offered him, holding it lightly in his. Her other arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow and in a sling that looped around her neck. Her right leg stuck out from underneath the thin blanket. It too was wrapped in gauze from knee to ankle and propped on pillows.

“Summer,” she said, and I drew my eyes from her injured leg to her face for the first time. Around scrapes on both cheeks and a larger cut on her forehead with a bandage over it, she was smiling at me.

I burst into tears.

“Oh, honey.” She raised her bandaged arm in a welcoming gesture. “Come here.”

I stumbled my way to her bedside and let her pull me into a hug. I buried my face in her neck, the familiar scent of her freesia perfume mingling with the alcohol and disinfectant they’d rubbed on her cuts. The reminder of her wounds combined with the comfort of her arms around me only made me cry harder. How long had it been since she’d hugged me? Since I’d let her?

“I’m all right,” she said, her uninjured hand stroking my hair as I dripped tears onto the shoulder of her hospital gown.

“Are you?” I managed between sniffles. “Because all the emergency guys are standing out there and I thought—I thought maybe you—I’m so sorry, Mom. For everything. I don’t want to be mad anymore. I don’t want to fight. I just needed someone to blame. But it’s not you. It’s not, I swear.”

“I know, darling. I know. It’s okay. Those men were asking me about real estate while they waited for my doctor to sign their drop-off papers. I’m fine, really.”

I sniffled again. “Real estate?”

“Yes. One of them wants to buy a house and was asking me questions about pricing and things. Nothing more,” she assured me.

I sat up, perching on the edge of her bed so I could look at her. “You’re really okay?” I asked.

She smiled and it lit her face. “Now that you’re here, I’m more than okay.”

I knew what she meant, but I needed to know about her physical health first. “But you’re bandaged.”

“My arm and ankle are sprained. My leg was cut when the glass shattered and needed a few stitches. Otherwise, it’s just scratches and bruises.”

“What happened?” my dad asked.

“Idiot ran a stop sign,” she said.

My dad’s eyes tightened at the corners. “The nurse on the phone said alcohol may have been a factor.”

My gaze cut to him sharply. “You didn’t tell me that,” I said. I looked at my mother questioningly.

“Not me,” she said. “The other driver. That Danny kid you went to school with ...?”

My dad and I shared a look. “I’m going to kick his ass,” my dad said. My mother looked at him in surprise.

“Dean,” she scolded.

“There are a select few circumstances in life where ass-kicking is perfectly acceptable. This is one of them, so don’t give me any shit,” he said.

I gave him my best smile. “No shit being given,” I said. “I’ll even drive you.”

“Summer,” my mom said. “Both of you. We don’t repay violence with violence.”

“What about stupidity for stupidity?” my dad said.

“I think the Lord gave Grayson County all the stupidity it could handle in that boy. Let’s not add to it.” my mother said wryly.

I snorted.

The sound of footsteps, heavy and rushed, squeaked against the linoleum hallway. Deep voices spoke in hushed tones followed by the curtain being yanked aside.

“Cathy,” Casey said, relief relaxing his features as he took in the sight of the three of us huddled together. I saw the spark as he noticed my hand resting over my mother’s.

“Hello, Casey,” she said warmly.

“How are you?” he asked. I moved aside so he could kiss her cheek.

“I’m fine. Scrapes and bruises. Can’t say the same for my car, though,” she said.

He grimaced. “I’ll fix it up for you, don’t worry about it.”

She laughed. “I doubt it. The EMTs said it was totaled. The hood looks strangely like an accordion. My windshield’s cracked and shattered. He got me good.”

“Do we know who it was?” Casey asked, looking from my mom to me and back.

“Danny,” my dad answered first, and he and Casey shared a murderous look.

“Asshole,” Casey said. “I’ll kick his ass.”

“Get in line,” my dad told him.

“Darla’s fired up and ready to go if we want to make it a party,” said a deep voice from the open doorway. Ford stood in front of the metal door frame, arms crossed over his chest, eyes blazing at the mention of the person responsible.

His jeans hung low on his hips from throwing them on without a belt. His T-shirt had a coffee stain on the bottom hem, almost unnoticeable through the wrinkles. I had a feeling he’d grabbed from the wrong pile of laundry in his haste to get dressed. My heart did a little dance at the thought of him rushing to be here for her, for me. I wanted to run my hands through his disheveled hair and plant one on him right in front of everyone.

“Ford,” my mother said, smiling at him. “It was very sweet of you to come.”

He never took his eyes off me as he said, “You couldn’t keep me away.”

Ford

"Stay is a charming word in a friend's vocabulary."

—Amos Bronson Alcott
,
Concord Days

––––––––

S
ummer’s tear-streaked cheeks were a dead giveaway that I’d done the right thing in coming tonight. When Casey had woken me and said Cathy had been taken to County in an ambulance, I hadn’t hesitated. I’d thrown on jeans and a shirt double time, stuffed my feet into boots, and raced Casey to the truck. It wasn’t until I’d cranked up Darla and listened to Casey on the phone with Summer that I’d wondered if it was my place to be here. In that moment, they’d never sounded more like brother and sister. The affection and shared worry between them was clear and impenetrable. I was an outsider looking in.

And again, when I’d walked in and seen them all together, the way Casey had been automatically welcomed into the fold made me feel out of place. This was a family. Her family. And things with her mother were complicated enough without my being there to make it more awkward.

But then she’d looked over at me and smiled through her tears. And I could see her relief, the easy way she stood beside her mother hand in hand. Something between them had obviously changed. And on top of that, she was happy to see me. I no longer wondered if I’d done the right thing in coming. I knew I had. And there wasn’t a single thing that could get me to leave her side.

We stood and talked for a few minutes, listening to Cathy describe her accident. A drunk asshole ran a stop sign. And not just any drunk asshole. Danny Hart. It was rare for me to get pissed enough to consider violence—another product of peace and love as my childhood mantra—but Danny tempted a guy. My fist itched to connect with his face.

Although, judging from Dean’s and Casey’s reactions, my anger was secondary. Unnecessary. Cathy had a small army ready to fight for her if needed. Even Summer’s tears had dried by then and she looked mad enough to spit nails. I wondered what sort of damage she’d do right about now, defending a newly reconciled mother. She was a force, that was for damn sure.

The curtain swayed as a nurse came in to check Cathy’s vitals. Dean moved aside but Summer hovered, chewing her lip as the nurse recorded all the readouts. “Is everything okay?” Summer asked when the woman finished.

“She’s doing great,” the nurse said with a smile. Summer’s relief was visible.

“Oh, I have a question,” Cathy said before the nurse could slip away. “The young man that hit me, is he going to be all right?”

The room went quiet. Even the beeping from the machine seemed muted. The nurse shifted, uncomfortable. “He’s ... stable.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say she sounded disappointed.

“Thank you,” Cathy said and the woman left.

No one commented for a long moment. Finally, Dean looked to each one of us and said with a solemn nod, “I guess we’re all thinking the same thing. If the Lord doesn’t leave him with a broken leg, I’ll consider it my holy duty to do it for Him.”

“Dean.” Cathy swatted him.

Casey and Summer snickered. The tension broke.

Frank arrived a few minutes later, and the story was retold amidst curses and promises to avenge Cathy’s injuries. It was admirable, the love this family had for each other. It made me miss my own.

I waited until the conversation wandered to less explosive topics. In the middle of a story from Dean about Casey’s pant leg getting stuck in the harvester last week, I caught Summer’s eye and nodded for her to follow me out. Cathy tracked our exit but she didn’t comment or stop us.

“Hey,” I said, catching Summer up in my arms as soon as the curtain fell closed behind us.