I hand her my phone and watch as she reads Brandon’s text.
“I’ll admit it’s a little bit funny but not the type of content that brings me to hysterical sobs. What is wrong with you?”
Sure enough, when I bring my fingers to my cheeks, they come away wet. I’m crying. I’m laughing. There are a thousand fucking feelings pouring from my body, and not all of them make sense.
“I don’t know.” I get to my feet. “I think I was waiting for something to happen that could be my fault, and when I got this message, I was certain that my actions somehow hurt Dax. To find out it was just a stupid potato wedge was such a relief. There’s no way I could have caused that—”
Except there is.
Oh shit.
“She was right,” I whisper.
“Who are we talking about now?” Kiersten asks.
“That woman from the book club. She said I’ve pulled a thread, and everything might unravel. It’s unraveling, Kierst. I caused the accident.”
Kiersten holds her palm to my head. I swat it away. “I’m serious. Dax, in my timeline, doesn’t eat potato wedges on Tuesday nights. He eats wings. I get the wedges. This would have never, ever happened in my timeline. I did this.”
Kiersten holds out her hand as if urging me to my feet. “It’s not your fault. He’s a grown-ass man who makes his own grown-ass decisions about his appetizers. None of this is on you.” She extends her hand again, but I ignore it. I still need a moment.
Kiersten grabs her coat from the hook next to the door and puts it on. “Would it make you feel better if I took you to see him?”
I’m on my feet in seconds. “Thank you, Kiersten. I owe you like a million favors for this.”
She pulls her keys from her purse and slings it over her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Put it on my tab.”
* * *
—
The drive from Aunt Livi’s to Hamilton General Hospital takes about six minutes for most people. Kiersten and her minivan make it in a cool four and a half. She pulls into the short-term parking and flicks the locks but doesn’t cut the engine. “I love you, but I told the babysitter I’d be home by midnight, and if I’m not, she starts charging double time.”
I pause, my hand on the handle. “How old is your babysitter?”
“Fifteen. I know. I wish I would have had that kind of audacity at that age. Call me tomorrow? Let me know everything is okay.”
I nod as bravely as I can before walking through the glass sliding doors of the ER waiting room.
It’s packed, and it takes me two loops around the broken bones, fevers, and other potato-wedge choking victims before I spot Brandon on an orange plastic chair, head dropped back as if asleep, with Dougie’s husky frame curled up like a napping kitten beside him.
“Hey.” I gently shake Brandon’s shoulder. His eyes immediately fly open.
“Gemma. You’re here. Sorry about that. Must have nodded off. It’s been a bit of a day.”
Dougie, still asleep, responds with a grunt.
“How’s Dax? Where’s Dax? Is everything okay?”
Brandon looks around the waiting room as if he’s only now realized Dax is missing.
“He got called in for his X-ray.” He checks his watch. “Maybe an hour ago. Sunny called in a favor before she left. I imagine he won’t be too much longer.”
There are no free seats on either side of them. It forces me to stand, towering awkwardly above them.
“Pardon me if this comes off sounding a bit brash, but there’s no reason all three of us need to be here. Would you mind if I got this one home?” Brandon runs his hand affectionately down Dougie’s back. “My darling really does need his beauty rest. Otherwise, he’s a bit of a bear.”
I nod. “Of course, by all means. I’ve got this. You guys go.”
Dax showed up for me today. Spending the night in the ER is the least I can do.
It takes two gentle nudges and a hard shove to wake Dougie fully. It’s another fifteen minutes before I’m settled in one of their leather-vinyl-covered seats, still warm from their bodies. The monotony of the room starts to get to me, as do the scrolling CNN news stories on the volumeless television mounted on the wall and the rhythmic scraping of the automatic sliding doors. Even the monotone announcements through the loudspeaker lull me into a state where I find my own head dropping back.
But then the doors slide open, and it’s as if I can sense his presence before he even walks into the room.
His eyes scan the crowd for only a second before locking with mine. His dark hair is all mussed as if he’s been sleeping. He’s walking a little more gingerly compared with his usually confident stride, and his eyes have a glazy sheen. He’s tired, but he’s okay.