His to Cherish (14 page)

I'd just gotten dressed when Aidan came out of the bathroom, naked as the day he was born. He dug through a dresser and pulled on a fresh pair of boxers.

I watched, my jaw dropping while he dressed in front of me, and lust pooled in my mouth. Or maybe it was drool.

I quickly swallowed it and turned away when the alarm on my phone beeped, signaling a text.

“Oh no,” I gasped, blood draining from my cheeks as I saw Beth's name.

We're at the hospital. Can you please come? Shane won't talk to anyone.

“What is it?” Aidan asked.

He must have recognized my look of fear, because he took two quick, large steps and was in front of me, reaching for my phone.

I yanked it to my chest.

“Chelsea?” he asked, not taking his eyes off my phone.

“Someone else had a problem with Derrick's birthday last night,” I whispered, my voice gravelly and afraid. I had no idea what was wrong with Shane, but Beth wouldn't have texted me if it wasn't important.

His jaw clenched and his eyes slowly lifted to mine.

“Who?”

But he knew. I could see it in his eyes.

I swallowed the thick, scary words I didn't want to say and inhaled a deep breath.

“Shane's in the hospital.” Tears pooled in my eyes before I finished the short sentence.

It said everything and nothing.

“Beth sent me a text,” I continued when I watched Aidan have the same frightened reaction. “She wants me to go see him.”

Suddenly, I realized the time as my eyes flickered back to my phone.

“Oh crap,” I said quickly, and started moving toward the door. In all the craziness of last night and this morning, I'd completely forgotten about work.

“I'm going to be late,” I told Aidan when he followed me out of his room.

He stood at the top of the stairs, staring at me as if things had just clicked into place for him.

My fingers curled around my phone. Shit. I couldn't go to work.

Without thinking further, I called the school, and when the administrative line picked up, I explained what was going on. “Shane Johnson is in the hospital. His mother has requested I go see him. I'm so sorry, but I'll need to take the day off.”

“Shane Johnson,” Rebecca said. I could almost hear her gears working over the phone before she let out a quick gasp of shock.

“Yes,” I whispered into the phone. “Rebecca, I have to go.”

“I know.” Her voice mirrored mine. “Is there anyone I can call or anything I can do to help?”

I ran my hand through my hair. It was tangled and oily and I needed to get home to shower first. Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to calm my racing heart. “No. I don't know. I'll keep you or his guidance counselor informed once I see Beth and know what's going on.”

“Okay,” she said, pausing for a moment. “I'll let his teachers know he won't be in today.”

“Thank you.” I hung up and hurried down the stairs.

I was at the bottom of the stairway when Aidan called my name.

I turned to see his hardened jaw and the way he was glaring at the phone still in my hand. Gone was the beautiful morning we had shared. In its place was reality crashing down on both of us. We might have been able to ignore his pain and his loss for a brief moment while we clung to one another, but there was no hiding the fact that he was terrified.

He swallowed and shook his head. “I can't go there.” His hands curled around the railing at the top of his stairs before he could bring his eyes to meet mine. “I know I should be there, talk to him, but I can't go there.”

I took a step up the stairs before stopping myself. Closing my eyes, I tried to ignore the way his sad eyes were once again making me yearn to hold him and make him feel better.

But I couldn't. Not this time. There were certain things Aidan was going to have to figure out himself, and being there for Shane was definitely one of them.

The hospital was loud with people rushing to get to where they needed to be. The horrible lighting and bright white corridors were sobering. I found the hallway where Beth had told me Shane was when I'd sent her a text telling her I was on my way.

My hair was still wet and thrown into a ponytail. I didn't have makeup on, and based on a quick glance at myself in the mirrored elevators on my way up, I hadn't thrown on a matching outfit.

I also barely noticed enough to care.

Too many unknowns lay in front of me, but I still couldn't erase Aidan's pained expression from my eyes when I had told him goodbye.

For a moment, in his bed and in his arms, I had somehow convinced myself that everything was going to be okay. That had been foolish and naïve, two things I generally wasn't.

But I didn't have time to wonder what all that meant when I reached the door to the psych ward of the hospital.

Inside room 221, I saw Beth sitting on a chair next to Shane's bed.

He had a plastic clip on his finger hooked to wires leading to a machine next to his bed. He was wearing a hospital gown, sheets covering him up to his waist.

Besides the grayish tint to his skin, he looked completely healthy.

I swallowed as I gripped the door handle and entered, still not entirely sure what I was about to face, or why Beth had called me.

I entered the room hesitantly, but I might as well have announced my arrival with a blaring air horn.

Two sets of eyes snapped in my direction and Beth jumped to her feet, rushed over, and threw her arms around me.

I kept my eyes on Shane as Beth's arms squeezed so tight I was afraid what little breakfast I'd had might end up on her shirt.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered into my shoulder.

In front of me, Shane's expression was blank and uncaring. He took in his mom hugging me before turning toward the television hanging in the corner.

It was off, but he stared at it as if the most fascinating show were on.

My heart splintered into fragments at the lost and sad look in his eyes.

“You're welcome,” I finally replied to Beth. I moved my hands to her upper arms and gently peeled her off me. “What can I do for you?”

Her hand dropped to my wrist and she tugged me toward the door. With a frantic look, as if Shane were going to evaporate into thin air if she left the room, she told him we were leaving for a minute.

“We'll be right outside, though,” she assured him.

Shane didn't respond, and Beth's shoulders slumped forward with defeat.

“C'mon,” I whispered, opening the door and ushering her through. Once we were in the hallway, I rested a shoulder against the wall. “What happened?”

In front of me, the always perfectly coiffed Beth Johnson broke down. Her eyes watered and tears began falling down her cheeks before she could answer. Her shoulders shook and I pulled her into my arms, wrapping her in another hug, but his time I didn't let go.

I let her sob and wail, her grief and her fear apparent and filling the hallway with devastation.

“Beth,” I said, rubbing her hair and trying to comfort her. “What happened?”

She sniffed, eventually her shoulders stopped shaking, and she pulled back, wiping her cheeks. I gave her all the time she needed.

“Overdose,” she answered, her chin still trembling.

My hand flew to my mouth, covering the gasp, and my own eyes began to water. “What? How?”

She shook her head. “We don't know and we…they don't…the doctors…” She struggled again, her voice breaking until she inhaled a deep breath. “They don't know if it was intentional or not.”

Suicide attempt?

My skin chilled with the thought…the fear of Shane doing something so horrible. He screamed of pain, but I had never thought he was in that bad of shape. I should have done something earlier, spoken up to the guidance counselor, insisted he went in for help.

I should have done more.
Guilt raged in me as Beth began to cry again.

“I'm not sure. The hospital called me in the middle of the night to tell me he'd been brought into the emergency room. Apparently he was at a friend's last night and found some pills…”

Oh God. My hand dropped to my chest and I rubbed the aching cramp inside that was squeezing my heart.

Turning my head, I looked at Shane through the small window next to his door. His head was back against his bed, his eyes open and staring at the ceiling. He looked like he'd completely given up, drained of all energy and hope.

“What do you want from me?” I asked Beth, not looking back at her over my shoulder.

“He talks to you.”

I shook my head. “Not about this.”

“Please,” she pleaded behind me. Her desperation seeped off of her, like she truly believed I was her only hope to help her son. “Just talk to him, see if he'll talk to you about what's going on in his head so I can get him help.” I could almost taste her pain when she continued. “They have him here, but they can't keep him past tomorrow if he doesn't start talking. I could have him committed, but if he doesn't need it…”

Her voice trailed off. I was not a mom. I was an only child, born to parents who had died in a car accident shortly after I married Cory, and while I had known great loss, I knew that there was nothing more devastating than the loss of a child. She was watching him waste away, and I couldn't bear to think that she'd ever have to go through anything similar to Aidan.

“Can I have some time alone with him?” I asked, my voice hoarse and thick with nerves when I turned to face her.

She nodded frantically. “Of course, please. Take whatever time you want. I'll go get some food and come back, or I'll stay in the waiting room until you need me.”

She looked lost, as if she didn't know which way to turn.

“Beth.” I reached out and squeezed her hand in order to offer some minimal comfort. “He'll be okay for a while so you can eat. It's okay.”

“Okay. Right.”

She stayed in the hallway while I reentered the room, which was filled with a fog of apathy. Not that I expected Shane to jump for glee or even smile, but I felt more depressed just being there.

I took the chair Beth had been sitting in and clasped my hands together.

For several moments, I rolled the words that I wanted to say around in my head, but I tried to wait for some sign from Shane that he was willing to listen.

When I sensed he could outlast my silence by a fair margin, I closed my eyes and started talking.

“My parents died in a car accident a few years ago.” I didn't look at him, but I could feel his eyes shift to me. I'd at least gotten his attention, if not his interest yet. “I know it's not the same thing as Derrick. I was born in Ohio, lived there my whole life until I graduated from high school and moved north for college. They were on their way to see me, got caught in a bad snow storm, and lost control of their car after they hit a patch of ice.”

I let that sink in for a few moments. Without meeting Shane's eyes, I looked up and saw him fidgeting with the sheets covering his legs.

“I understand that guilt of feeling like it's your fault. If I would have insisted they come the next weekend. If I would have checked the weather, I could have flown them up instead of letting my dad drive. They were getting older, and he didn't like driving outside our small hometown.”

I chanced a glance at Shane to see his eyes closed, but tears were falling down his cheeks and his chin was quivering.

“It's okay to cry, Shane. It's okay to be sad, and you're going to be. And while I know we've already talked about that, I know that everything I say is the truth, because I've lived it. But you don't have to let Derrick's death be yours, too. He wouldn't want that.”

I sighed, exhausted from the spiel that might have been completely useless. I rarely talked about my parents anymore for the simple reason that it hurt so much to dredge up those memories—the guilt, the second-guessing, the wondering.

It was all so freaking pointless, yet instinctual to anyone who had someone die and felt they could have prevented it.

“Shoulda-coulda-wouldas won't help you heal, Shane.”

He sniffed and opened his mouth before shutting it again.

A muscle jumped in his cheek and I leaned forward, hoping for anything.

But while in one moment he seemed to compose himself, in the very next he dried his cheeks and shut down, turning away from me.

“Shane, honey. We just want to help you.” My eyes burned with unshed tears. I was so sick of freaking crying all the time. It seemed to be all I did. At school. At night when I still heard Shane's terrified screams…With Aidan. “In order to do that, we have to know if you meant to take all those pills, sweetie.”

He flinched, whether from my coddling tone or my quiet accusation, I didn't know.

Finally, his chin quivered as he inhaled a shaky breath.

“I don't want to die,” he whispered, his voice raspy. “But I don't want to hurt anymore and I can't stop. I hear him, I see it…I see him fall and hit his head every time I close my eyes, and I just wanted to sleep.”

“Oh, Shane.” I rushed to his bed, and before I knew it, I did something completely inappropriate for a school employee to do with a student. I didn't care. In that moment, I was just a family friend and my heart was bursting to get out of my chest. I climbed onto the bed next to him and wrapped him in my arms.

He stiffened before collapsing into my embrace.

His sobs echoed through the entire room and I had no idea how long I held him, shushing him and comforting him.

“I just wanted to sleep!” he cried out. His entire body began shaking and I held him tighter, pulling him so he was sitting up, so I could fully wrap my arms around him.

“I know, honey.”

And I felt so lost, like I was running through a dark forest with no way out. I had no idea how to help this boy. There was nothing left to say that could make him feel better, but I knew he needed help. Serious help.

Yet I was not the one capable of providing it for him.

So I stayed for as long as I could, doing the only thing I could think of.

I held him.

I had grown up on a small farm in Ohio, and our land was usually overrun with stray animals. Most of them were there because I couldn't, and never had been able to, leave a stranded animal on the side of the road. Every time I saw a stray cat or dog, I screamed and shouted until my parents would stop the car and bring it home with us.

I nursed birds back to health.

I once bottle fed a baby raccoon I found.

I took care of a litter of baby bunnies after my dad had almost mowed over their den and the mommy rabbit never came back to take care of them.

Our house and barn were filled with stray cats.

My parents used to constantly tease me that there wasn't an animal alive I couldn't bring back to health and wholeness.

I left the hospital after I told Beth what Shane said had happened, and then spent more time comforting her. Once in my car, I drove around for hours thinking of all the time I spent taking care of everyone and everything else since I'd been a small child.

It was too deeply a part of my makeup to leave either a wounded animal or a person alone when they were hurting.

And as I drove, I considered all of that.

I was sad.

I was overworked.

I was stretched too thin.

I hadn't devoted nearly enough time in the last few weeks to doing the things that I enjoyed, the things that helped me, because I'd been so concerned with being there for everyone else.

But no matter what my clouded feelings regarding Aidan were, I felt like I needed to take a step back. Reevaluate. See if what I felt for him was something more than him being another wounded animal before I let things go too far.

The last thing I wanted was more people hurting.

Especially me.

My shoulders sagged with relief when I pulled into my driveway well after the sun had set and his truck wasn't there.

After the last twenty-four hours, I didn't have it in me to be there for anyone tonight.

I needed sleep. I needed quiet. I needed time to myself to figure everything out.

Upon entering my house, I made sure the garage door was firmly shut behind me and headed straight to the kitchen. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, but my stomach felt too tight from stress and sadness and food didn't sound good. Instead, I drank a glass of orange juice and programmed my coffeemaker for the morning before going to my room.

I didn't bother turning on lights. I knew the layout of my house, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I slowly stumbled down the hall to my bathroom, where I took a long shower, climbed into bed, and prayed that sleep would come quickly.

It didn't.

I lay in bed for what felt like hours, listening to the crickets chirping outside, before I realized I hadn't even looked at my phone after turning it off when I got to the hospital that morning.

I also never called the school secretary to update her on Shane.

Sighing, I threw off the covers and grabbed my purse off of the floor by my bed where I had dropped it on my way to shower.

After I turned my phone on, my eyes jumped wide open at the number of missed calls and text messages on the home screen.

I slid my thumb across the arrow and my phone came to life with a long string of notifications.

My chin started to quiver when I saw a text from Beth.

He's talking and has asked for help. I owe you my son's life. Thank you so much for what you did for us today. I'll never forget it.

I pushed back the tears and pressed my lips together to maintain control of my emotions.

“Thank goodness,” I whispered, and lifted my eyes to the ceiling. Not being overly religious, I didn't pray often, but I believed God existed and he watched out for people. Most of the time, anyway. I'd seen too much death to think he had a role in everyone's life every moment of the day, because if he did, I didn't understand why he allowed so many horrible things to happen. But still, I prayed. “Take care of Shane, please. Watch over him. Keep him safe.”

Wiping the escaped tears from my cheeks, I inhaled a breath, opened my eyes, and scrolled through the rest of my phone messages.

Messages from the school were normal. It wasn't often I took a sick day and it made me smile to think that I had been missed during the day. Either that or Rebecca went straight for the gossip phone tree letting everyone know something had happened to Shane. I frowned at the thought while I saw a slew of messages from coworkers asking how I was doing.

Texts and missed calls from Aidan were what made my heart pound against my chest. My pulse kicked up as memories of the morning flashed through my mind—not that the dull ache between my legs hadn't reminded me of it all day long.

Had it really been just that morning that he had been in my arms and inside me?

I shivered, my body already warming with arousal at the memories, yet I pushed them down when I saw the texts take on a more frantic tone.

His last one, left twenty minutes before I got home said: