Tailspin (Better Than You) (28 page)

              A
boom
bursts into the silence and Logan’s face shatters into a million little pieces, raining specks of glitter into a sea of obscurity. Slowly, other sounds start to seep into the stillness, the world coming back in spurts and chaos.

              “Don’t move him.”

              “Hang on, Nathan. Just hang on.”

              “Can you hear me, Nathan? Can you open your eyes for me, buddy?”

              “He’s not responding.”

              “He’s flat lining!”

              And then the world goes black.

36

December 15, 2010

              “He’ll come to when he’s ready,” I hear someone say.

              I try to scream, try to tell them not to cry and that I’m here,
right here
, but I’m filled with insulation, my voice stuffed into a sound-proof room, my arms and legs tied into a strait jacket. Immobilized. Mute. Useless.

              The darkness takes me away again.

37

December 17, 2010

              “I’m so sorry, Nathan.
So
sorry. I love you. Please be okay. Please come back.”

             
I’m right here. I love you.

              Logan’s hands squeeze mine, her head heavy against my chest. I ache to wrap my arms around her, soothe her, but holding on to the strength to move is like trying to grab water. It slips through my fingers, bleeds out into the spaces around me. I’m empty, a hollow body.

              “We can do better,” Logan whispers, her thin fingers tracing the line of my jaw. “
I
can do better. I can
be
better. I just need you to be here with me. I need you to love me. I need you to be okay.”

              Her face forms in my mind, first faded, barely there; just outlines of her closed eyes and full, pink lips. The more she speaks, the more she solidifies.

              “I want you to teach me how to surf. I’ve been thinking about all of the things that I’m missing out on, and I don’t want to miss anything anymore. You know I’ve never even been to a football game? The stadium is, like, twenty minutes away and I’ve never been there. How pathetic is that?”

              Her hair, pulled back and messy, tickles my nose. I want to push it away and pull her closer at the same time. The memory feels so real, so dense. It’s almost as if I could reach out and tug on the strand falling into my face.

              “Emily told me all about how Joshua stopped talking after your parents…Well, he’s doing okay, if you’re wondering. Still kinda quiet, which I guess is normal, but he’s alright. God, I barely know anything about you. I’ve been so fucking selfish, dealing with all of my stupid problems and I never took the time to ask you questions. I want to know everything. I want you to wake up and tell me everything.”

              The pressure is gone from my chest. The bed shifts.
Don’t go
, I want to say. In my mind, I reach out my hand, grab her arm as she turns away, pull her into my chest and never let go.

              “Nathan? Oh my god! Nathan, can you hear me? Are you there?”

             
I’ve been here
, I try to say, but this time it’s different. This time it’s like breaking through a thick fog, the vision of her in my mind becoming clear and
real
. This time, when I tell my lips to move, they do, cracking and pulling apart.

              And then Logan is right there, hair pulled up and messy, glassy, honey eyes staring into mine; full, pink lips spread into so wide of a smile that it’s almost blinding.

              “You came back,” she whispers.

              I swallow, lick my lips, push past the ball of cotton. “Always.”

Epilogue

December 25, 2010

              The previously white, bare walls of the hospital are covered in garland and twinkling lights. Mistletoe hangs above the open door. Joshua takes it upon himself to remind every person who walks underneath it that they
must
kiss. Emily blushes as she stands underneath it with Derek, who glances at me as if asking for permission.

              “Make it quick,” I say from my spot on the edge of the bed. Of course I look away, instead choosing to focus on Logan, how the grey shirt she’s wearing slips off her shoulder, leaves it bare and lonely. I can feel her eyes watching me, can feel the intensity of her love in the way she traces her hand up my arm.

              A nudge grabs my attention and I look up to see Derek, his arm in a sling and stitches on the corner of his jaw. He saved my life that day. When I tried to thank him, he told me to stop being sensitive and that he should be thanking me for his first war wound. Derek found the papers that ultimately saved Logan’s life, and he also killed the man that ruined it in the first place. Instead of feeling resentment or jealousy, I just feel relief, glad that Danny is finally gone. I know that it’s not the end of our troubles; Danny was part of a gang hundreds of people deep, with a father who knows our names. But for now, we’re safe. We’re here, alive and together.

              “How’re you feeling?” Em asks, sitting on the other side of me.

              “The same as yesterday.”

              “Yeah, well, you still look like shit, too.”

              “Thanks, Em. So encouraging.”

              She’s right, though. They had to shave my head for surgery to release the swelling, I have stitches on my head and temple and the entire side of my face is a purplish black color from the fracture. I’m still having a hard time moving one side of my mouth, making my words come out with a slight lisp, but the doctors tell me that’ll lessen over time.

              It’s funny how, at the end of it all, Logan and I bear the same scars, if only on the outside.

              A few minutes later, Amelia and Ralph come bursting into the room, Chief in tow. “Look who we found prowling around outside,” Ralph says, slapping Mitch on the back.

He scratches his head, looking sheepish. “Martha insisted.”

That’s when I notice Martha behind them, both her and Amelia carrying boxes holding a delicious smell. “Merry Christmas everyone!” Martha shouts, smiling broadly.

There’s enough food in the boxes to feed an army, and as everyone gets situated around the room; me in the bed with Logan beside me, Joshua sitting on the end, Derek sitting on the recliner with Emily on his lap, Mitch and Ralph leaning against the wall and Martha and Amelia fussing around everyone, tears start to gather in my eyes. I wonder what Mom and Dad would think if they saw how loved we are, how we found a family in so many different places. They would be happy, I decide. Proud.

Even though we’re in a hospital room, surrounded by sadness and sickness and death, I know that I’m home; that these people are the whole of my life, of my love.

I know that, without a doubt,
this is where I belong.

Acknowledgements

To those of you that don’t read, and still read my books.

To those of you that didn’t get annoyed when I talked about my characters like they were real.

To those of you who supported, rooted, cheered, and believed.

And of course, to my husband and his tendency to turn a blind eye towards the disastrous house, THANK YOU.

I don’t know that I can ever say it enough, but I love you all.

About the author

Raquel Valldeperas is a mother and a wife, which consequently means she is a chef, a chauffeur, a teacher, a lifeguard, a maid, a coach, and sometimes a tyrant, among many other things. In the dark of night, under the cover of clouds, she becomes a writer, a reader and a line dancer. Unless Game of Thrones or The Vampire Diaries are on. Then she becomes hypnotized. She would create a list of accomplishments to make her sound more prestigious, but alas, she is merely a part-time student and a full-time homemaker, where her accomplishments include making it through the day with bother her husband and son still alive.

Look for news and updates on her Facebook, Goodreads page, or blog.