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//chapter thirty-four • coastal venture
DEJA VU is a powerful emotion. Even more so when you're waking up from something as traumatic as your brother slamming your head into a wall. Twice.Again.
Pain thundered in his head.
When consciousness came back to him, he was laying face down on a bed. Not his. The thundering pain in his skull felt like someone was hitting a bass drum in his head. His brain felt rattled and fuzzy, this thoughts a jumbled mess. The only thing he could focus on was the pain in his head.
He groaned, rolling over onto his back and bringing a hand up to hold his head. He opened his eyes when he did, his eyes hurt from his bright ceiling lights, making the head pain worse.
Deja Vu also made the head pain worse. So much worse.
Confusion and pain rolled over Andrew when a loud boat horn blared from outside. It rattled his skull from the inside out as he gripped the side of the bed. What the hell is this? He stands, stumbling over to a window and he stares out of.
Nothing but water.
He's going to be ill. Violently.
"Why is this my life?" Next to the bed, there's a plate of food. He ignores it for the door, which was locked when he yanked on it. He figured it would be, but that didn't stop the fear and panic.
Goddamn Rafe. Andrew wonders if the weight of what Rafe had done caught up to him in the meantime, but he doubts it. That's the thing, Andrew knows Rafe. Andrew knows that he'll try to justify any and all of his actions, blame them on something or someone else to save his own skin. They are opposite on that matter. Rafe probably blamed his dad for that day on the tarmac. Andrew still blamed himself.
Andrew turns to stare out at the ocean again.
There was a sudden overwhelming feeling of loss. The loss of his friends, and Kildare and everything that had made Andrew a new Andrew in the last two months.
JJ. Andrew's heart yanks. Would he ever see the blond again? Probably not by the looks of isolation and ocean. But even if he never saw the blond again... just please God do not have let Rafe get to him.
Andrew heaves out a shaky sigh, the sudden weight of his anxiety coming crashing down on him. He sits there, panting, gasping, hand over his chest trying to push it back into his ribcage when he can feel it in his sides, at his temples, the tips of his fingers. He tries to remind himself of JJ's arms around him as he sleeps, calming any panic attack that would come, or the way he pushes his curly locks out of his face, anything to forget that he shared the same air as Rafe Cameron.
