A Missing Heart(59)

Settling myself into the corner of the couch, I pull Cammy to my side, wrapping my arm around her shoulders so it’s easy for her to rest her head on my chest. The comfort of this moment is as far as I can take things before I make any further decisions, and I’ll take it. I’ve waited so long to just be near her again. After only a few minutes, the sounds of her elongated breaths soothe me into closing my eyes and falling asleep too.



“Um…guys,” Ever says, yanking me from the best sleep I’ve had in a long time. When I open my eyes, I find Cammy still asleep in the crook of my arm. Her hand is resting on my chest and her head is on my shoulder. “I don’t want to know.”

“Ever,” I say in a scolding tone.

“At least you both have your clothes on,” she mutters.

“Knock it off, will you?” I argue.

She grins, like she just figured out how to annoy the crap out of me. “Okay,” she says through an exaggerated sigh.

“You know, it’s a Monday. We should probably enroll you in a school or something.”

“Cameron said she was going to handle that today, after we either get our clothes and belongings back or buy new ones.” I would kind of rather Cameron buy Ever some new clothes.

“That sounds like a great plan,” I say, as Cammy presses her hand into my chest and lifts her face from my shoulder.

“Crap,” she croaks before dropping her head back into my shoulder. That couldn’t have felt good.

Ever looks around the room and spots the empty bottles scattered along the coffee table. “Have fun last night?”

Cammy covers her face with her hand and groans. “You don’t see anything,” she slurs through her fingers. “We already suck at this parenting thing. This is why people raise children from babies. So they know better, not to leave evidence behind.”

I should have known better. I have raised a baby—I’m raising a baby who’s with my brother while I’m asleep on a hotel couch. God. I need to put my life back into some kind of order today.

I lift Cammy up a little, placing a pillow beneath her head to replace my shoulder. “Can I get you anything before I take off? I should get down to the hospital to check on Tori. Then I have to grab Gavin.”

“I think I saw a pain reliever in the snack bar, and—” she twists her head to look up at me. “Can I meet Gavin later?”

“Of course,” I tell her. “Here, put your number in my phone.” I hand her my phone and shovel through the mess we made in the snack bar last night. “Got it.”

I grab a bottle of water too, and place them both down on the table as she hands me my phone back.

I call her number from my phone, hearing it ring a couple of times before I end the call. “There, now you have my number also. If you need a lift anywhere today, give me a call. Otherwise, I’ll give you a ring a little later.”

She slaps her arm over her eyes and forces a tight-lipped smile. Looks like the nasty drinks we had last night didn’t agree with her. She’s probably going to get sick. “Thanks, AJ.”

“And you,” I point to Ever, “Take care of her, okay?”

“I’m used to helping with hangovers,” she says. “Don’t worry.”

I close my eyes and slap the air. “We’ll discuss that more later. God.”

My drive over to the hospital feels like it takes forever, and the heaviness of my head isn’t helping. Thoughts of the scene with Tori last night were a blur as I raced over to the hotel to find Cammy, in hopes of having someone to talk this out with, but that went in a completely different direction. Now that I’m getting closer to seeing Tori, though, the real understanding of what went down last night is sickening. What do they do about serial suicide attempts? Clearly, the meds they had her on weren’t working or aren’t strong enough. Though, while on the meds she came home with originally after last year’s episode, she was like a zombie for two weeks before they adjusted the prescription.

When I arrive at the hospital, I take a deep breath, preparing for this next adventure in my day as I walk in through the main entrance. I go up to the tenth floor where the psych department is and approach the front desk. “Can I help you?” a receptionist asks.

“I’m here to visit my wife, Tori Cole.” My wife who no longer wants to be my wife, I should add. She types something into her computer and waits a brief moment for something to pop up on the monitor.

The woman looks up at me and inhales sharply. “She’s in confinement right now.”

“Confinement?” I ask, feeling the sickness in my stomach grow.

“I’m not allowed to discuss any further details with you, sir.”

“So, I can’t see her?” I ask, cracking each of my knuckles below the counter. What could have happened? I watched them put her in the ambulance.

“I’ll have the doctor on duty come speak with you. You can have a seat in through here. I’ll buzz you in,” she says, pointing to the closed doors beside the reception desk.

I walk through the armed doors and take a seat, feeling uncomfortable sitting here in what doesn’t look like a waiting area. While being modern, the whole area is bare and stark, apparently in an attempt to be devoid of anything patients could use to harm themselves or others. Patients are walking by, looking at me like I don’t belong on this floor. I can’t help wondering what each of these people did to end up in this part of the hospital. It’s one of those things people don’t usually speak about. At least, I’ve never been too aware of what happens here, how they treat a suicidal patient. Tori didn’t want me here last time either, and by the time she was brought to this floor, I was already gone. I can assume it’s embarrassing to be here.