The Maine Attraction

28. Heartache

It had been about a week since Sawyer's mom fell and ended up in the hospital. It had been about a week since I almost told Sawyer that I was in love with him. It had been a week of emotional confusion on both of our parts. I think we were both putting our whateveritscalledship to the side while Sawyer focused on his mom. It was what he needed and I wasn't trying to get in the way of that. 

Even though we were putting things to the side, we'd been less distant in the last week or so. Sawyer had been much less cold to me. Things were still tense, but I think both of us were just trying to make the best of the weird situation. As bad as the night was, I think that being able to remind Sawyer that I was there for him and that I wasn't going anywhere almost helped the two of us. I think it helped him to know that I was okay with holding off on figuring out things between us while he figured out what was going on with his mom. I was doing everything I could to not complicate anything and just let him know what I was fully supporting him and anything that he needed.

My heart was aching for him because I knew he was frustrated that they weren't getting answers from anyone. I had no idea what was going on, but now that I knew I felt like everything else was starting to make more sense. It made sense that he didn't want to talk about the situation with anyone, because anytime he did his ideas and thoughts just got shot down. He probably didn't want people asking him a bunch of questions that he didn't have answers to either.

I was young when my mother died, so I don't remember it happening at all. My dads death was also pretty quick and unexpected, so it's not like I had to deal with any of the premature death feelings of knowing something was wrong and having to plan and deal with any of it. I really had no idea how he was actually feeling, but I was doing everything I could to support him in any way that he would let me.

He'd been at the hospital for several hours now, much like he'd been every evening for the last week. Whenever he had free time, he was spending it at the hospital trying to get things figured out and check on his mom. Each night that he'd come home, I could sense his frustration and I knew it meant things hadn't really changed or that they still didn't give him an answer. 

Tonight felt different though and he wasn't even home yet. I hadn't heard from him in a while, so I wasn't sure how long he was planning on being there. He'd been texting me to let me know when he was coming back, but tonight I'd heard nothing since he arrived at the hospital. 

I was curled up on the couch, the tv on in the background but not really paying much attention to it. My mind was anywhere and everywhere, my thoughts like a tornado just spinning around. There was a notebook next to me, I'd been writing in it here and there. There was nothing to be proud of written down, just a bunch of jumbled notes and thoughts that I was trying to put on paper and make sense of. It was hard to make sense of things when everything around me just kept getting more and more confusing. 

I heard Sawyer's car pull into the driveway moments later. My eyebrows drew together in confusion, I wondered why he hadn't texted me to tell me he was on the way. I assumed that he'd just gotten distracted or that he was just tired. He had been at the hospital longer today than he had been the last couple of days. However, when he walked through the front door I could tell almost immediately that something was wrong.

His body was stiff and his face was red. I stood up from the couch to face him, but I didn't say anything. I think there was a part of me that was afraid to even say hello to him. The atmosphere changed the second he opened the door and I had no idea what was about to take place. There was a small part of me that even wanted to run away and hide.

Sawyer kicked his shoes off and tossed his keys down, looking over at me with an expression that I couldn't decipher if my life depended on it. 

"What happened?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.