Her bottom lip trembles, and two tears slide down her cheeks.
I hate that I have to use one of her best and worst qualities against her.
Thankfully Teagan stops fighting with me and gets in my truck. The only sounds she makes are quiet sniffles, and she stares out the passenger-side window, wringing her hands.
“I know you’re angry with me, Teagan, but I love you too much to let you keep putting yourself at risk like this.”
She makes a sound but doesn’t respond otherwise. A little squeak comes from her, and she presses her hand over her mouth, like she’s trying to keep the sounds in. I want to reach over and touch her, hug her, console her, but I don’t think she can accept the affection.
I pull into the driveway, and Teagan swipes away her tears, then fumbles with her seat belt as I park in front of the garage. Her breathing grows increasingly labored, and her hands are shaking so badly she can’t manage to hit the release latch.
I cut the engine and hop out before rounding the hood and opening the passenger-side door. I reach across and cover her shaking hand with mine. “Let me help you, Teagan.”
“I’m fine. I h-have it.” She tries to push my hands away, but her movements are jerky and uncoordinated, and her breath comes faster and faster, sucking in air between heavy gasps.
“I messed things up,” she whispers. “Everything is messed up. I’m a failure. I messed it all up.”
I brush tears from her cheeks, but they keep falling. “You’re not a failure, babe.” I release the latch, and she tumbles out of the truck and into my arms.
She struggles to stand, to hold on to my arms, but the shaking is worse.
“Teagan? What’s happening here?”
Her head lolls back and her eyes roll up to the sky. She’s a rag doll in my arms, and I worry that this might be an overdose.
And it feels like Devon all over again.
I can’t be too late again.
If Teagan doesn’t survive this, I don’t know if I will either.
I call out for help, struggling to hold on to her shaking, limp form.
“Aaron, what’s going on? Teagan? Oh shit. What the hell happened?” I hear Van, but he’s a million miles away, and I’m stuck here in this hell, where I’m afraid I’m losing another person I love.
“We need to get her to the hospital. Now.”
CHAPTER 27
A PINPRICK OF LIGHT
Teagan
A steady beep is the first thing that registers, followed by the unpleasant smell of bleach. My eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. I don’t try to open them right away. Instead, I absorb the smells and sounds and feels. The sheets are scratchy, not like the soft ones in my bed. They don’t smell like home, or Aaron.
Aaron.
Just the thought of him makes my chest hurt. I miss him.
If something happens to you, I will never recover.
My stomach rolls at that memory. I can’t quite connect it to anything else.
Did I go to see him?
Fragments of memories float around like bubbles in my mind, but as soon as I feel like I can grasp them, they pop and fade away. I remember his hands on my face, his sad voice and matching sad eyes. I remember sitting in the passenger seat of his truck.
Not being able to breathe.
Familiar cologne registers, along with the creak of a chair. “Teag? You waking up?”
Not Aaron.
I finally crack a lid. The room is dimly lit, but it’s still a lot brighter than the backs of my eyelids. I blink several times before Van’s face turns from fuzzy to clear.
I glance around the room. “Where am I?” My voice is a hoarse whisper. My mouth is dry. It’s a silly question. It’s very clear that I’m in a hospital. “What happened?”
“You’re at Lake Geneva General.” Van grabs the plastic cup from the nightstand and brings the straw to my lips. “Small sip, okay?”
I do as he asks, taking small sips until I finish the drink.
His eyes meet mine. “You had a seizure.”
“A seizure?” The word feels foreign in my mouth.
“You were severely dehydrated. That combined with lack of nutrition, an electrolyte imbalance, the insomnia, and the stress your body was under is what caused it, but the doctors want to run a bunch of tests to make sure there isn’t more going on.” He takes my hand in his. “You scared the shit out of all of us.”
“I just needed some sleep,” I croak, but even as I say it, I know it’s not true.
Van’s expression crumples. “This is bigger than needing sleep, Teagan. What if you’d been driving when that happened? You’ve been hiding things, lying to everyone, especially yourself.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I know about the car accident and you calling Billy instead of anyone else, and that you asked him to keep it a secret. And he didn’t have to come out and tell anyone for us to figure it out, either, since your car is scratched all to shit.”
“I didn’t want you to be upset with me.” And I knew he would be. And that he would have a right to worry, because I was pushing way too hard. Not only hiding things from the people I love but hiding from myself.
“You didn’t want me to ask questions, and you didn’t want to face the truth and acknowledge that you have a problem.” He closes his eyes for a second and exhales a slow, deep breath. “I’m not mad at you, Teagan, and I know it hurts to hear this, but you’re trying to bury your problems under a mountain of prescriptions. You’ve been working five different jobs and taking on more and more projects, because you can’t or won’t say no. It’s more than anyone can reasonably handle. That alone would have caused anyone to have a breakdown.”
“I wanted to prove I could do it, and I didn’t want to let anyone down.” The words sound hollow and weak, and like another useless excuse.
“I know. You never want to let anyone down. But you keep piling it on and not taking anything off your plate. You don’t even give yourself time to breathe. You need to find some balance, and this isn’t the way to do that.” Van’s expression is pained, his tone imploring.
I look down at our clasped hands, not wanting him to be right but knowing that he is. “If I stop, then I have time to think.”
“Why is that such a bad thing?”
Because then I have time to reflect on my choices. That I’ve spent my whole life trying to be what everyone else expected instead of accepting myself for me. That I wanted to fit into an ideal instead of just being me. And when I got to Pearl Lake and managed to get these jobs, I wanted to prove that I could do all of it. That I could handle everything. I lost sight of the goal, and instead of figuring out what I want, I tried to juggle everything, liking the feeling of being needed. Until it all came crashing down.
There’s a knock on the door, and Aaron appears, holding two white paper cups. He looks exhausted. “You’re awake. Thank God.”
“I’m going to give you two a few minutes.” Van pushes to his feet, and Aaron takes his place in the chair beside my bed.
He sets the cup on the night table and folds my hand between both of his. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I whisper. I don’t know where to start.
“I thought you had overdosed.” He bows his head and presses his lips to the back of my hand. “I thought I was going to lose you.”