I put my hands on hers, and she squeezes them.
“I think, after that, he realized what he’d done,” she says. “He’d stabbed you. He’d kidnapped me. Those are serious crimes. Really serious. I heard him arguing with Vicki on the phone this evening. He said he was through. That’s when he left. Left me…” Her voice wavers. “He left me to die, Skye. He just walked out and left me to die.”
I put my arms around her and hug her as tightly as I can.
I’m outside the hospital room. They’ve given me a chair, and I appreciate that, so I don’t want to seem ungrateful by wandering off. But I can hear through the examination room door, and that’s really awkward.
A nurse is trying to convince Tiffany to let them perform a procedure, and I haven’t heard what it is, but I catch the words “test” and “police,” and I know what they’re asking. Tiffany says she doesn’t need it, and she’s trying to stay calm, but she’s freaking out a little. I wish I could go in and be there for her, but I also know she wouldn’t even want me overhearing this conversation. So, yeah, really awkward.
When the nurse comes out, I rise to go back inside, but she says, “Sorry, hon. Tiffany needs to see the doctor first.”
“Is she okay?”
“All things considered, yes. Poor thing. I can’t imagine what she went through, and I’m glad someone’s here for her. Thank you.”
I nod.
The nurse looks back toward the room. “She did that for kids after the shooting. I’m not sure if you knew that. If anyone knew that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Tiffany didn’t want to make a big deal of it. Especially given the circumstances. But I was here when they brought her in. They’d barely finished treating her before she wanted to help. She wanted to sit with any of the kids whose parents hadn’t arrived. They all had, though. No one was alone except…” She clears her throat. “The other boy.”
It takes a moment to realize who she means. “Harley Stewart.”
“Yes. She knew his family wouldn’t be quick to come. He was under guard, of course, but she wanted to sit with him. I guess she thought even someone like him shouldn’t be alone. I always remember that. She has a good heart. A really good heart.”
“She does.”
The nurse pats my arm, smiles, and leaves me to take my chair again.
Skye
We drive Tiffany home. Mae tries to walk her to the door – I think she plans to make a point about Tiffany’s father not coming to the hospital – but Tiffany doesn’t want that. I don’t blame her. No one needs the drama right now. So we watch Tiffany go inside. Then Mae takes me to see Jesse.
Dr. Mandal texted me earlier, saying Jesse only has a couple of cracked ribs and a bump on his head. He was released before we left with Tiffany. His mother invited us to stop by on our way home – Jesse would like to see me, make sure I was okay.
I expected Mae to say it was too late for social visits, but I think she knew how badly I wanted to see Jesse. In the hospital, I wanted to be a good friend to Tiffany, but it took all my willpower not to run off and check on him.
Dr. Mandal tells me Jesse is in the living room, and she takes Mae to the kitchen for tea.
I hurry into the living room… and he’s asleep on the couch. I squelch my disappointment. Of course he’s asleep – it’s been a long night and he’s probably on painkillers. I tiptoe alongside the couch.
He’s sleeping on his side, his face toward me. I bend over and press my lips to his cheek —
Jesse grabs me. His hands wrap around my waist, and he tosses me down beside him… and then lets out a sharp hiss of pain.
“Yep,” I say as I sit up. “Cracked ribs, remember?”
“Oww.”
I chuckle. He reaches over and pulls me down into a kiss.
“Another bad idea,” I say.
“You’re right. Better close the door.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.” I shake my head. “They gave you something for the pain, didn’t they?”
“Possibly.” He pulls me into a kiss that leaves even me gasping, and my ribs are perfectly fine.
“I think we’re getting better at this,” I say when I back up.
He grins. “Much better.”
“Which is not to imply we don’t need more practice…”
“Not at all.”
We kiss again. And again. Possibly again, though at some point, I lose track of where one kiss ends and the next begins. It just feels good. So amazingly good.
Whatever else is going on, at this moment I am happy. Happier than I have been in so long. Happier than I thought I’d ever be again.
We’re cuddling and kissing and whispering when the sound of footsteps in the hall makes us both jump. We pull apart then, and wait as his father passes. Then we sit together, my head on his shoulder, his arm around me.
“How are you doing?” he asks.
“Better now.”
He smiles. “Ditto. And Tiffany?”
I tell him about the hospital visit.
“I don’t care if she’s eighteen,” he says. “Her parents should have been there.”
“I know. I felt bad for her. Especially after what the nurse said. I never knew she was injured in the shooting.”
“Twisted her ankle, I think. She was running and fell, and then she hid and wasn’t found until the final sweep of the school. I always thought about that – even though she must have known the shooter was her boyfriend, she still hid. I can’t imagine what that would be like – knowing you aren’t safe even from your own boyfriend.”
“Sometimes it’s your own boyfriend that’s the danger, even when he’s not a school shooter.”
“True. I guess I can’t imagine that, either.”
We’re quiet for a minute. Then I say, “You know what I can’t imagine? Offering to sit with Harley after what happened. I like to think I’m a good person —”
“You are.”
I make a face. “I can be, but that’s a whole other level of goodness. Of forgiveness. I don’t hate Harley the way I hate Isaac, but I’m not looking forward to sitting across from him in a prison visiting room, either.”
“Are you thinking of asking Tiffany to come along?”
I shake my head vehemently. “Never. I’m just…” I pause, as wisps of thoughts flit past, too ethereal to grasp. Another shake of my head. “I don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“That you’d like to kiss me again?”
I smile. “Right. Yes. I’m pretty sure that was it.” I lean toward him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I can’t sleep. I’ll start to drift off, and then bolt awake, heart pounding, with the urgent sense that I’m forgetting something. I lie there, going through all the things that could be keeping me awake. It’s not a short list. On a few of the items, my mind slows and circles, like smelling something familiar and thinking, Is it butterscotch? Kind of, but not exactly.
Something to do with visiting Harley Stewart? Kind of, but not exactly. I do keep thinking of Tiffany sitting with him in the hospital, and I’m not sure why – I guess it’s like I told Jesse, that I can’t imagine being that forgiving and I wonder if that’s wrong of me.
Whatever’s bothering me is connected to Harley, but there’s more to it.
Something to do with Jesse? No. Chris. No. Tiffany? Kind of, but not exactly. I feel terrible about what happened to her. But I can’t fix that, and this feels like something I can fix. Or, more accurately, something I can figure out. Before it’s too late.
Owen? Yes, it has to do with Owen. Am I worried he’ll come after me? Yes, but Mae is changing the locks tomorrow, and for now, she has the alarm system armed.
I’m not freaking out over Owen, but my anxiety circles around him.
Owen and Harley.
Owen and the shooting.
Is there a connection? Not that I can see, beyond Vicki.
Owen didn’t go to North Hampton. At the time of the shooting, he was a senior at Southfield. But could he still have been connected to it? A seventeen-year-old can easily slip into a different high school.
But if Owen was somehow part of the shooting, why would he come after me? He certainly wouldn’t encourage me to investigate. That’d be his biggest fear – that I’d start asking questions.