I leaned my head back, anticipating her expression of fury—satisfied as it materialized instantly. Even as I felt bad for raising her ire, I couldn’t help reveling in the fire between us. Her passion was manifesting as anger now, but it was there. I could be patient. But I was done pretending the explosive pull didn’t exist.
She stepped back and practically spat, “Dream on, Will. We may be in a better place now. And I may accept you’re a part of my life—a tiny, inconsequential part—but you don’t get to tell me how I feel. And you don’t get to flip my world upside down. Again.”
With that, she shrugged her shoulders dramatically out of my coat. Steeling her expression, she balled it up and smashed it roughly against my chest, turning away in a graceful, defiant huff.
It would have been a magnificent exit, a parting shot worthy of an Academy Award. Except for the not insignificant detail that the ground outside was frozen and slippery. And I’d worn very insensible shoes.
I barely had a moment to admire the brilliant flush of her cheeks before her face crumpled. Before she realized she might have shoved me a smidge too hard. The last thing I heard was her calling out my name. Then pain. Searing—not unfamiliar—pain. And after the pain, blackness.
Chapter sixteen
Maureen
The waiting room in Coleman Creek’s small hospital at two a.m. smelled of freshly mopped linoleum and decorative cinnamon-scented pine cones. Blue lights lit up a plastic tree decorated with mini stethoscope ornaments. Paper snowflakes taped to the walls gave off distinct elementary school energy, as opposed to a place where doctors could walk in any minute to deliver bad news.
Please let there be no bad news.
I shivered, still shaken even though it had been hours since Will’s fall. It felt like everything had happened in slow motion.
Will’s head hitting the pavement, thudding like he’d dropped a bowling ball.
Terrifying minutes where he lay deathly still, not moving or responding to my voice.
Me dropping to my knees next to him, screaming and calling out for help.
Marley and James running outside with looks of horror on their faces.
Will regaining consciousness, able to feel his arms and legs and wiggle his toes, but unable to say how many fingers Marley held up.
James—having recently received first aid training as a volunteer firefighter—giving the all clear for me to take Will to the hospital in my car since it would be quicker than an ambulance.
During the drive to the emergency room, Will stayed awake but yammered like a deranged encyclopedia-slash-personal-diary most of the way, his head lolling against the side window as he rambled.
“Did you know they established the Secret Service to fight counterfeiting, not protect the president? For my fifteenth birthday, my parents took me to the restaurant on top of the Space Needle. I’d never been there before even though I lived in Seattle my whole life. Crazy, huh? If there are seventy-five people in a room, there’s a ninety-nine percent chance two of them have the same birthday. Did you know Bob Ross once helped a color-blind viewer by doing an episode where he only used gray paint? Isn’t art amazing? You’re so interesting and funny and pretty and cool. I like you so much, Maureen. I really wish you liked me…”
When we arrived, they’d taken Will to be seen right away. Marley and James came fifteen minutes later—party guests had trapped their cars—and we sat down in the green vinyl chairs to wait for news.
I fished three quarters from my wallet that had probably been there since the Obama administration and got a Twix from the vending machine. It took actual coins, no credit card tapper in sight, not to mention the candy cost less than a buck. Thankfully, old-school, reasonably-priced vending didn’t mean Coleman Creek wasn’t modern where it needed to be. There was a helicopter pad on the roof, and the doctor reassured us that if Will needed to be seen at a larger trauma center in Spokane, they could get him there rapidly.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Marley leaned over to tell me for the dozenth time, as though she’d heard my thoughts.
“How do you know?” I snapped. “I shoved him, and he fell. That pretty much makes it my fault.”
“It was an accident.”
I scoffed and swallowed down a dry bite of my candy.
James interjected, “You didn’t mean for him to fall, right? Hence—accident.”
I didn’t reply. We’d been having this same circular conversation for hours. The nurse had come out twice to let us know they were running tests. Luckily, Will had been cognizant enough when he arrived to tell the staff to consider us family. He consented to them speaking freely with us about his condition.
Marley asked James if he had a number for Will’s parents, but James didn’t. It would be simple enough to track them down if need be, but I wasn’t convinced Will would want them to know. I recalled him telling me the night we’d met that he had a tricky relationship with his family. James didn’t have much insight, saying he’d only met Will’s parents a few times when they were kids.
“What were you and Will talking about before he fell?” Marley’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Nothing important. I went outside to get some fresh air, and he followed me because I didn’t have a coat. He gave me his.When I decided to come back inside, I took off the coat and handed it to him, but I must have passed it back too hard because he slid and hit the ground.”
“But you were out there a while before that,” Marley persisted.
