Little Do We Know(36)

My neck was stiff and my back was tight, and I let out a groan as I twisted in place, looking around, trying to piece the night together. And then I remembered why my eyes felt red and puffy and my throat was sore and dry.

I reached for my phone on the passenger seat. There were four messages from Mom, all sent in the middle of the night, but it was the one on top that caught my eye. It had arrived about a half hour earlier, at 6:43 a.m.:

Emory: Thank you for finding Luke. He’s going to be okay now.

I tucked my hair behind my ears and sat a little straighter. I stared at the phone. “No,” I whispered, not because I didn’t want it to be true, but because I didn’t think there was any way it could be. I read it again. And again. And again.

He’s going to be okay now.

I was about to type a reply to Emory, when my phone rang, and Mom’s picture appeared on the screen. I answered it right away.

“Is it true?” I asked.

“Yeah. Looks like it.” She laughed as she said it, as if she couldn’t believe her own words, and then she went straight into the details, talking fast, using words like blood transfusions and surgeries and staples, but as hard as I tried I couldn’t grasp it. All those details slipped through my mind like sand through my fingers.

Luke wasn’t dead.

He was alive.

“I would have called you a few hours earlier, but it was so touch-and-go, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” she said. “But once they’d changed his status from critical to stable, I had to tell you.”

“He’s okay?” I still didn’t believe her.

“Emory’s with him now,” she said.

As soon as I heard her name, I remembered reading that card Luke had written to her, and how my heart had shattered into a million pieces for her. “Tell her I’m on my way.”

Mom said, “Hannah, wait—” but I hung up before I let her finish her sentence.

I raced inside to give my dad the news, and I’d barely had time to change into jeans and a clean T-shirt before he was calling to me from the kitchen with two travel mugs, one filled with fresh coffee and the other with steaming hot tea.

The hospital was only six blocks away, but we drove in silence while I rehearsed what I was going to say to Emory in my head.

I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for what you overheard. For not defending you. For what I said. It didn’t come out right. Please. I can’t stand fighting with you anymore.

Ten minutes later, Dad pulled into the hospital parking lot. He found an empty space near the front, and as soon as he killed the engine, I bolted from the car. Dad was right behind me.

Inside, we found Mom sitting alone in the waiting room. She told us that Emory’s mom had gone home to get Emory some clean clothes, and Luke’s family just left, too, to get his things and pick up his car. Emory was still with Luke, but he was heavily medicated and probably wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours.

“Can I see him?” I asked.

“Family only,” Mom said. “They wouldn’t let me in, either.”

“But they let Emory in?”

Mom hesitated for a moment. “Luke’s parents said she was family.”

“But I need to see him.” I didn’t need hours, I didn’t even need minutes, I needed one second—two, tops—to prove to myself that he was alive, and to replace the horrible image in my head with a new one that wouldn’t haunt me for the rest of my life. I had to see his chest rise and fall, and the color back in his cheeks, and his fingers relaxed instead of curled and cramped.

And I needed to see Emory.

“I have to talk to her.”

“This isn’t the right time, Hannah.”

My throat tightened. “Did Emory say that?”

She didn’t seem to know how to reply. “No, but she’s focused on Luke right now. Please, just trust me. You and Emory have a lot to work out, and you will, but not here, not now.” She squeezed my hands a little harder. “She’ll come to you when she’s ready. Give her space.”

“I’ve been giving her space. I don’t want to give her any more space. Emory needs me. Especially right now.”

“She’ll come around,” Mom said.

I wasn’t so sure about that, not anymore. I thought back to that day I came home from church and found Emory in my room, shaking and pacing the floor. She told me what happened, and I went straight to the living room to get my mom, even though Emory had begged me not to. My mom wasn’t there, but my dad was, so I brought him back to my room instead. When we got there, Emory was gone.

“What was she upset about?” Dad had asked.

I had no idea how to tell him. I started with, “This guy—” And that’s when he cut me off. “Again?” Dad rolled his eyes and said, “Look, I know she’s your BFF and all, but she’s changed. I’m not sure this friendship is in your best interest, you know?”

And I said, “I know.”

I didn’t defend her. I agreed with him.

And Emory had heard the whole thing.

And then I made it worse. She called me a fucking sheep. And I told her maybe my dad was right; maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore.

“Did you hear me, Hannah?”

My head snapped up, forcing me back to reality.