“Wes, wait.” Britta bit her lower lip and pulled back, meeting my gaze. “I need to tell you something before we . . . before anything else. It’s important.”
I didn’t know what her expression meant, and my mind jumped to the worst possibilities, that she didn’t want this, that she immediately regretted this. I loosened my grip, giving her plenty of room to move away, but she didn’t. “What is it?”
She slid her palm across my chest, but she didn’t pull away. “I didn’t tell you sooner because . . . well, it will ruin this,” she whispered, dragging her gaze from mine.
I let out a slow breath. “No.” I nudged her chin up. “There’s nothing you could say that would. Nothing, okay?” My phone buzzed again, the sound filling the space, but Britta had smiled, and I could block it out. “Hold on. I’ll silence it.”
I fumbled for the phone with one hand and pulled away from her to reach it. The name on the caller ID flashed, and I answered immediately.
“Hello?” My voice was thick and raspy, and I repeated myself. The voice on the other end of the line was enough to drain all the blood from my face.
39
WE WERE ALMOST to the hospital. Wes’s face contorted every now and again, as if a bad memory were playing on a loop and he was biting it back. He’d told me I didn’t need to come with him, but after the phone call, he was ashen. My unflappable coach seemed shell-shocked.
“Do you want me to order a ride to take you home?” As we exited the interstate, his voice startled me.
“I’ll stay with you.”
“I’m not sure how long this will take or what’s going on.” He glanced at me, worry etched in the lines of his face, one hand scrubbing the back of his neck.
“That’s okay.” The day before, I wouldn’t have thought twice about touching his shoulder or taking his hand, but what were the rules after that kiss?
We pulled into the parking deck, but he didn’t move, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he stared forward. “It’s just that she’s . . .” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t know how she’ll be today, and she’s . . . It’s complicated.”
He swallowed, his features set in a firm line.
“Take care of your mom. I can wait. I don’t want to abandon you, okay? Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to call your sister for you?”
I touched his forearm, but he flinched away, saying only “No” before stepping out of the car.
It was ten in the morning when we walked into the building. For July, it was cool, a chilled wind blowing around us in the midmorning sun. A receptionist directed us to the sixth floor. The whoosh and whir of the elevator’s machinery filled the silence. Wes tapped his hand against the metal, making a hollow clang that reverberated.
“Did they give you any indication of what’s happened?”
“She’s . . .” He drummed his fingers against his thigh, avoiding my eyes before shoving his hands in his pockets. “She’s been an addict my whole life. Booze, oxy, heroin. She was getting clean, though. I thought she was, anyway. She hasn’t been using.”
My heart broke at his defeated tone. He was always so positive and playful, and I wondered if he felt like he had to be, if this had been weighing him down. There was a lot he’d never told me.
“She’s been on house arrest. She’d been doing okay, but she left sometime last night, walked out and got fucked-up. They found her early this morning.”
“Wes,” I said, although I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. It didn’t matter. The doors opened, and he squared his shoulders before walking out. I followed him toward the reception desk, thinking for the first time that coming with him might have been a mistake and that there was a lot about Wes I didn’t know.
“Shelly Lawson?”
“I believe the doctors want to speak with you first,” the woman behind the counter said.
“I’ll just find a place to wait,” I began, looking for a waiting area on the floor, but a middle-aged woman in a white coat approached us before we stepped away from the desk. She had the practiced, even expression of someone used to delivering bad news in a caring way.
“Mr. Lawson? I’m Dr. Stevens. Could we talk for a few minutes?”
Wes stiffened. “Is it bad?”
I caught the shake of his hand at his side, and this time he didn’t flinch when I moved my hand to his.
The doctor’s expression didn’t change. “Let’s step into the meeting room.”