“Give all to love;
Obey thy heart.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
I PULL OFF in the same overlook I did the first time I made this drive to see Colton. Sunshine and salt air pour in when I roll down the window, and I try to breathe, just like I did that day. My hands shake just the same at the thought of seeing him.
But so much is different.
Then, I drove over promising myself I wouldn’t speak to him, that I would be invisible. That I wouldn’t interfere in his life. Now I need him to listen. I want him to see me. And in spite of what led me to him, I don’t want to think of him not being a part of my life.
I need to tell him the truth that got tangled up in the lies. How I went looking for Trent’s heart, for a connection to the past. A way to hold on. But that what I found when I found him was a reason to let go. I need to tell him I wouldn’t change that, not even if I could.
By the time I turn onto Main Street, I am a mess. Even more now than on that first day. I park in the same place I did that day, in front of the café, and peek in the window to see if there’s a chance I could catch him in there again, but it’s empty. I take a deep breath and cross the street to Good Clean Fun, eyes down, trying to gather my courage as I go. When I step onto the curb and finally look up, the ground disappears from beneath my feet.
The store is dark inside. The racks that are normally filled with kayaks sit empty, and in front of the closed door, there are bunches of flowers and signs.
Signs with Colton’s name on them.
My eyes go blurry, and all the air in the world is gone. I take a step toward the door, but I can’t even see it. All I can see is the hospital, and Colton’s face, and the way he looked when I told him the truth. The way he looked when he left. The way he didn’t look back.
I crumple right where I’m standing, like I don’t have legs beneath me.
This can’t be happening.
Not when I haven’t even—when I haven’t gotten a chance to tell him, or set things right, or just . . . just see him.
My head falls to my knees, and I weep. Weep for myself, and for Colton, and for Trent too. It’s too much, this. Life, and love, and how fragile it all is. It repeats, over and over in my head, a sad, desperate refrain.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t—
“Quinn? Is that you?”
It takes a second for the voice to register, but when it does, I lift my head slowly, afraid of what I’ll see when I look at Shelby. She’s standing above me, and I have to squint through the sunlight and my tears to see her. She looks at me, then at the flowers and signs in front of the door, and her eyes widen.
“Oh my god,” she says. Then she sits down in front of me and takes my hands in hers. “He’s not— This is— He’s going to be okay.”
“What?” The word barely comes out.
“Colton. He’s going to be okay. People just keep bringing stuff here because he can’t really have any visitors yet, and I had to close the shop until my parents can get back.”
Relief opens up my chest, and I can finally, fully look at her. She has the same green eyes as him—kind, and soulful, but weary in a way too.
I wipe at my own eyes. “What happened?”
“He went into acute rejection four days ago.”
“Oh my god.”
My own heart practically stops, and guilt wraps itself tight around me. Four days ago. Four days ago when we drove off from the shop after his fight with Shelby about missing his meds, and when we spent the afternoon together, and when not once did I see him swallow a pill.
Four days ago when he found out the truth.
“It was really scary,” she says. “I knew something was wrong when he got home. He went to his room, and I heard glass breaking, and when I ran in, he was smashing all those bottles.” She pauses like she’s seeing it again.
“I ran in and tried to get him to stop, but he wouldn’t until they were all gone; and he wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. Said he just wanted to be left alone. A few hours later he was having trouble breathing, and he looked awful. He was almost in full failure by the time the ambulance got to the house the next morning.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper. My eyes well up, and I look down at my hands twisting in my lap. It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault.
“He’s stable now, but not out of the woods. They have him on heavy doses of antirejection meds, and he’ll have to be monitored at the hospital until his biopsies are clear.”
Shelby takes a deep breath and leans back against the wall. “He’s not responding as well as they’d like, though, and I think . . . I think there’s more to it than just him missing a few doses of his meds.” She looks at me then. “He told me what happened—with the letter.”
Every muscle in me tenses, bracing for what she thinks of me.
“Which is why I didn’t call when all this happened. I hated what you did. When he told me, I wanted to hate you for taking away his personal choice in the matter.”
I flinch, and she pauses. Softens a little.
“But then I realized I’ve been doing the same thing for a while now, just in a different way. Putting it all out there for everyone to see, because somehow it made me feel better. But Colton didn’t really want that either.”
I don’t know what to say.