Maybe Someday(77)

His hands are under my arms, and I’m being

carried again. He makes his way into . . . his

room? He lowers me onto his bed, and I roll over

and open my eyes. Maggie is grinning at me from

the pillow next to me.

“Yay. A sleepover,” she says with a groggy

smile. She grabs my hand and holds it.

“Yay,” I say, smiling.

Covers are pulled over both of us, and I close

my eyes.

Ridge

“How did you get yourself into this mess?”

Warren and I are both standing at the edge of

my bed, staring down at Maggie and Sydney.

They’re asleep. Sydney is spooning Maggie on

the left side of the bed, because the right side of

the bed is now covered in Maggie’s puke.

I sigh. “This has been the longest twelve hours

of my life.”

Warren nods, then pats me heavily on the

back. “Well,” he signs, “I wish I could stay and

help you nurse them back to health, but I’d rather

pretend I have something better to do and leave.”

He turns and walks out of my room as Brennan

makes his way in.

“I’m headed out,” he signs. “Got my stuff out

of Sydney’s room.”

I nod and watch as his eyes fall on Sydney and

Maggie.

435/692

“I wish I could say it was fun getting to know

Sydney, but I have a feeling I didn’t even meet

the real Sydney.”

I laugh. “Believe me, you didn’t. Maybe next

time.”

He waves and walks out of my bedroom.

I turn and look at them, at both halves of my

heart, cuddled tightly together in a bed of irony.

? ? ?

I spent the entire morning assisting them as they
alternated between the trash can and the bath-

room. By lunch, Sydney’s vomiting had sub-

sided, and she made her way back to her own

room. It’s late afternoon now, and I’m spoon-

feeding Maggie liquids and forcing her to down

medicine.

“I just need sleep,” she signs. “I’ll be fine.”

She rolls over and pulls the covers up to her chin.

I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then run

my hand down to her shoulder, where I trace

circles with my thumb. Her eyes are now closed,

436/692

and she’s curled up in a fetal position. She looks

so fragile right now, and I wish I could wrap my-

self around her like a cocoon and shield her from

every single thing this world has left to throw at

her.

I look over at the nightstand when the screen

on my phone lights up. I tuck the covers more se-

curely around Maggie and bend forward and kiss

her cheek, then reach for my phone.

Sydney: Not that you haven’t done

enough, but could you please tell Warren

to turn the volume down on the porn?

I laugh and text Warren.

Me: Turn the porn down. It’s so loud even

I can hear it.

I stand and walk into Sydney’s room to check

on her. She’s flat on her back, staring up at the

ceiling. I sit on the edge of her bed, reach to her

437/692

face, and brush back a strand of hair from her

forehead.

She tilts her face toward me and smiles, then

picks up her phone. Her body is so weak she

makes it look as if the phone weighs fifty pounds

when she tries to text me.

I take the phone from her and shake my head,

letting her know she just needs to rest. I set the

phone on her nightstand and bring my attention

back to her. Her head is relaxed against the pil-

low. Her hair is in waves, trailing down her

shoulders. I run my fingers over a section of her

sun-kissed hair, admiring how soft it is. She tilts

her face toward my hand until her cheek is rest-

ing flush against it. I brush across her cheekbone

with my thumb and watch as her eyes fall closed.

The lyrics I wrote about her flash through my

mind: Lines are drawn, but then they fade. For

her I bend, for you I break.

What kind of man does that make me? If I

can’t prevent myself from falling for another girl,

do I even deserve Maggie? I refuse to answer

438/692

that, because I know that if I don’t deserve Mag-

gie, I also don’t deserve Sydney. The thought of

losing either of them, much less both of them, is

something I can’t bring myself to entertain. I lift

my hand and trace the edge of Sydney’s face

with my fingertips, running them across her hair-

line, down her jaw, and up her chin, until my fin-

gers reach her lips. I slowly trace the shape of her

mouth, feeling the warm waves of breath pass her

lips each time I circle around them. She opens

her eyes, and the familiar pool of pain floats be-

hind them.

She lifts a hand to my fingers. She pulls them

firmly to her mouth and kisses them, then pulls