In Her Wake (Ten Tiny Breaths 0.5)(8)

She’s been put under psychiatric assessment.

Madison sighs and then nods, scooping up her long jet-black hair to fasten it with an elastic.

“You look really nice.” I mean it, even though the hollow sound of my voice makes it sound insincere. Most days she changes out of her work clothes and into yoga pants and a tank top before coming. Today, though, she kept her dress on.

“Thanks.” A glimmer dances in her eyes. The first one I’ve seen since spring break.

“How’s the internship going?” I don’t think I’ve even asked her that question yet. Madison just finished her freshman year in Washington, D.C., at one of the top journalism programs in the country. She delayed her start date by two weeks because of the accident but decided that she needed to work, to keep her mind occupied. I was supposed to be interning at my mom’s creative agency over the summer. Clearly, I’m not doing that.

“It’s good. I work with this team of people. They’re really nice. They . . .” She rambles on about her coworkers and her boss, and about the article she had to fact-check today. Though I’m not listening to her actual words, I let the soft hum of her voice drown the voice spewing dark thoughts within my subconscious, even if for just a while.

“Who’s winning?” she suddenly asks, balling her hands tightly. A sign that she’s irritated. I guess she noticed that I had tuned her out.

“Detroit.” The Red Wings—my and Sasha’s favorite team and one reason why we chose Michigan State—are about to win the Stanley Cup and I couldn’t care less. It’s just a way to pass the time for me now.

Suddenly Madison is standing in front of me, blocking my view of the screen. Her bottom lip quivering, her eyes watering. “Do you still want me?” The question is soft, almost a whisper.

I blow a mouthful of air out, sufficiently gutted by how vulnerable she looks right now. “Of course, I do, Mads. You know I still do. It’s . . .” I dip my head. “It’s only been five weeks. And it’s just . . .” What is it, exactly? I mean, the injuries are real. The grief is real. And the guilt gnaws away at my core.

I lift my gaze to find Madison pushing the sleeves of her blue dress down over the balls of her shoulders. The shape slackens as the material slides over her curves, falling to her ankles. Broken bones or not, blood rushes downward fast as she reaches back to unfasten her bra, letting it drop. Her panties follow.

And then she just stands there, waiting, her fingers twitching nervously at her sides.

I release the air in my lungs slowly as I reach down and unbutton my jeans. “I don’t know how much you’ll enjoy this.”

“I want to try.” She reaches down as I lift my body to help slide my pants over my hips. Lifting one knee and then the other, she carefully straddles my lap and then edges forward, her breaths coming fast and short.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want this. Or, that a part of me didn’t want this. The evidence is right there, between us.

And yet, it feels all wrong.

Reaching down, she guides me into her. I groan with the feel of her warmth, letting my head fall back into the pillow, and my thoughts scatter.

Maybe this is all I need to start feeling alive again.

■ ■ ■

Hi, my name is Tara. I’m a paramedic. Can you hear me? You were in an accident. We’re going to help you.

Her voice, her words, they linger in my mind like a broken record long after I’ve come to, my body drenched in sweat, my breathing ragged.

It was only a dream, I tell myself.

The worst night of my life is over, I remind myself.

I’m just living in its wake.

Chapter 5

July 2008

“0.14. Almost double the legal limit!”

My bedroom is situated at the back of our house but I have no trouble hearing the words coming from the kitchen, laced with anger.

I guess my dad finally got his hands on the toxicology report.

“Do you know how fast they were going? Dammit! I never thought I’d wish that these trucks weren’t built with black boxes.” I can picture my dad pacing, his hands resting on his head. It’s what he does when he’s mad enough to swear, which isn’t frequent. “My insurance company is going to have a field day with this! I won’t be able to afford the premiums by the time they’re done with me. As it is, we’re lucky that we had the highest coverage we could possibly have.”

“Lucky.” Great choice of words, Dad.

“And a lawsuit?” my mom asks.

My dad groans. “What a goddamn mess. Out-of-state accident, our son’s friend driving. Drunk! If not for the no-fault insurance laws, we’d be selling our house right now. As it is, the family of that boy—Billy—are looking for more than what the state laws are forcing the Clearys’ insurance company to pay out. If they can’t get it, then yes, we should prepare ourselves for a lawsuit. Against us and maybe even Cyril and Susan, though that probably won’t get too far.”

“But it’ll still cost them in legal fees, won’t it?

“No, it won’t. The firm will take care of it. The partners have already agreed to the hit for billing hours if it comes to that.”

“And have you talked to the girl’s aunt about the medical bills?”

He sighs. “She isn’t getting out of the hospital anytime soon. Our insurance and the family’s medical insurance aren’t going to cover everything. Her aunt seems willing to refrain from a lawsuit if we help cover those.”