Stryker wouldn’t let go of me.
“Let go. I have to go home.” I thrashed, but he wouldn’t budge.
He shook his head and blinked, as if he was stunned himself.
“No, I’ll drive you.”
More words strung together.
“I have to get there now. We’re wasting time.”
He didn’t make it.
He blinked rapidly. “It’s okay, I’ll drive you. Right now. Let’s go.”
Before I could protest, he was shoving my arms into my coat, grabbing my purse, throwing my phone in it, and dragging me down the stairs. The next thing I knew he was putting me in his car and buckling my seatbelt with hands that shook just a little before peeling out of the visitor’s parking lot.
“Shit,” he said, trying to fiddle with the GPS. “Can you give me directions to the hospital?”
“Yeah,” I said, and my voice didn’t sound like mine. It sounded like it belonged to someone else.
“Are you okay?” Before I could answer he swore again.
“I shouldn’t have asked you that,” he said under his breath as he took a corner too fast and almost hit another car. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Slow down,” I said.
He was still muttering to himself, and every other word was a curse. I took my coat off and rolled down the window.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s hot in here.” I fanned my hands, trying to get some cool air into the car. I couldn’t breathe. My skin was on fire. I was on fire. “Why is it so hot in here?”
“Katie!” he said, his voice cracking like a whip in the confines of his car.
“What?”
He blinked a bunch of times and slammed his foot on the gas to pass a car he perceived to be going too slow.
“You have to calm down, because I’m freaking out, and I should be the calm one in this situation. Because I don’t know if I can handle this.” His voice was controlled; too controlled.
“Pull over,” I said, feeling my stomach heave once.
“We have to get there, we can’t stop,” he said, pushing the accelerator to the max.
“Pull over!” I screamed, and he pulled into the breakdown lane. Even before the car stopped, I had the door open and was crashing to my knees, my body deciding it was going to be sick.
I choked and coughed, but nothing came out. The sound of the highway was muted in my ears, as if they were stuffed with something. A hand touched my shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
No, I wasn’t f**king okay. How could I be okay?
“You’re not supposed to ask me that question. Ever.”
“Shit,” he said, rubbing my shoulder as he crouched down beside me. “Listen, we need to go. You need to get there. I need to get you to your family. I’m not the person you should be with right now. I suck at this. Anyone would be better than me.”
His hands were finally steady, and he put them on my shoulders. They were strong, and his grip was firm.
“I can’t believe this is happening. How come I’m not crying?”
“I’m not a doctor, but I think you’re in shock.”
“Oh.”
That made sense, except shock wasn’t the right word. I didn’t feel shock. I didn’t feel anything, except for Stryker’s hands on my shoulders. They were the only things that felt real in this moment.
“Let’s get you in the car, sweetheart. Come on.” His arms went under my armpits, sort of getting me partially to my feet before he swept one arm under my legs and another behind my shoulders.
He tucked me in the passenger seat, rolling it down so I could lie back instead of sit up. He buckled me in again, this time more gently. I looked up to meet his eyes, which, I decided were exactly the color of a stone I’d seen in a ring once in a little shop Kayla had dragged me into. A color midway between green and yellow, if there was such a thing.
My dad.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Stryker’s eyes. He blinked and closed the door softly before getting in himself.
“Thank you,” I said as he put on his blinker and waited for someone to let him get back onto the highway.
Chapter Eighteen
Stryker
I didn’t freak out often. After everything I’d seen and been through, I’d learned freaking out was a waste of time and didn’t get anything done.
I was freaking out.
It was a struggle just to focus on the road and which exit I was supposed to take, and trying not to crash into the car in front of me.
One word just kept repeating in my head. Fffffffuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkk.
This was not my territory. I didn’t do grief. Yes, if I found out that my mother had died, I probably would feel a moment of sadness. My dad, not so much.
I tried to find some words to say to break up the overwhelming silence in the car, but every single one I chose sounded stupid in my head, so it would sound even worse out loud.
Even Trish, as tactless as she was, would have been better at this. Lottie would have been amazing. So would Zan.
Not me.
She was in shock, and I knew that could be dangerous, but I had no idea what to do about it.
I didn’t know what to do except keep driving and try to get her to her family. Then they could take over and give her what she needed.
She still had the window open, but now she was shivering. I couldn’t close it, and I wasn’t going to ask her to, so I reached in the back and found the blanket she wrapped around herself when she hung out with me while I messed around with the cars.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said. No, it wasn’t. “You’re going to be fine.” No, she wasn’t.
“Everything’s going to be fine.” No, no, no. Lies, lies, lies.
She shivered under the blanket and I figured bad words were better than silence. Maybe they would distract her mind, or bring her back. Any emotion could be better than this. I searched for something, anything to say.
“Sometimes when I’m alone I listen to Taylor Swift.” I looked to see her reaction, but there wasn’t any. “I mean, I know that knocks me down two points on the manly scale, but she’s actually got some good stuff. I mean, there’s a reason she’s so popular and you can’t get her songs out of your head, even if you want to. I blame it on Allan, but I’ve definitely put her songs on when I was alone and sang along. And sometimes in the car. That one about the guy who cheated on her is good.” I knew the name of it, but I was trying to get her to talk.
“They’re all about guys who cheated on her,” she finally said. Guess my little Taylor Swift confession had worked.
“Not all of them. There’s a few that are about love.”
I listed them off and she agreed about which ones she liked.
That took us a few more miles, and then I started talking about other music, other songs. Music. I could always talk about music.
Katie’s musical palette was mostly pop, but she had a good ear, and with a voice like that I knew we could refine it a bit. I named off some bands and talked about their sound and what instruments they used and played her some songs. Yes, I could do this.
The miles clicked by and the closer we got, the more I felt like I could keep this going. She didn’t smile or laugh, but she was talking and that was something. She still hadn’t cried, but I knew that would come.
When I saw the sign for the exit to the hospital I almost let out a sigh of relief. She looked at the building with her wide eyes and I saw her lower lip tremble. She bit down on it as I zoomed around, trying to find a parking spot. After a few loops, I found one and stopped the car.
“Do you…do you want me to come with you?” She pulled the blanket off and let it fall to the floor.
“I don’t think I can do it alone.” That was all I needed to hear. I jumped out of the car and went to get her door for her. I had to help her undo her seatbelt and she clung to me as we walked toward the entrance.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered to me as the automatic door swooshed open.
“Yes you can. I’m right here, sweetheart.” I squeezed her arm and took a step forward so she had to follow me.
“I’m here…” she said when we got to the main desk and the receptionist asked where we needed to go, “I’m here to see my dad. Glenn Hallman.” The woman typed something into the computer and gave us a smile. She had no idea. She probably thought we were just visiting.
“Room 301,” she said, giving us directions. I listened carefully, because I knew Katie wasn’t hearing her.
“Thank you,” I said to the woman as I steered Katie toward the elevator. No way was she going to be able to do the stairs.
A couple people joined us in the elevator, talking and laughing as if everything was normal. Their lives were normal, I supposed. Katie huddled into me and I put both arms around her. God, I wished my arms could do more than hold her.
It took a while to walk her down the long hallway to the room. We both stopped outside the door, and Katie stared at it for a long time.
The door was closed, but I knocked. I hadn’t planned on coming this far with her, but with her latched onto me, I wasn’t really going anywhere.
The door opened and Mrs. Hallman, her face red and blotched, looked out. It was dark and there was a hush that came from inside that sent a chill up and down my spine.
“Mommy,” Katie said, reaching one hand out and falling into her mother’s arms. I let her make the transfer and stepped aside. I didn’t belong here anymore.
Katie
He just looked like he was sleeping. The room was filled with monitors and IVs and other sorts of medical paraphernalia, but they were all silent.
Mom and Kayla and Adam and I all stood around him, as if we were waiting for him to wake up.
I reached out to touch his face and it was cool.
“What happened?” I said in a whisper. My voice was still too loud. Mom’s hand gripped mine so hard I knew I would have bruises.
“He was just coming home from work and I was asking him about paying a bill and then he said his chest hurt. I…” her voice broke for a moment, but she took a breath and continued, “I called the ambulance and he was still alive when they got him in and the doctors thought he was going to make it, but then…” she didn’t need to say the rest. Then he didn’t.
There was another knock at the door and I turned my head, expecting to see Stryker standing behind me. He was gone. Where did he go?
A nurse came in and spoke in a hushed voice. There was another woman behind her in a smart suit.
“I’m sorry, but we’re going to need to make a decision about what we’re going to do with him. This is Becky, our grief counselor.” What did she mean, what they were going to do with him?
Becky stepped forward and started talking in equally hushed tones with Mom.
I looked back at Dad. He didn’t even have one of those stupid gowns on. He still had his work clothes. Flannel shirt and khakis. He had a whole closet filled with them. I brushed my fingers on the soft material which had been washed so many times it was thin and had threads hanging here and there. Mom hated that.