First Crush, My Forever

Chapter 38

  The hospital waiting room is too bright and too quiet. Even the air feels off, like it's been filtered through something fake. It doesn't smell like bleach exactly, but more like artificial clean. I can hear the soft hum of vents pushing air into a place that still somehow feels airless. The nurse at the front desk asks for Dani's information, and I give them everything I know, even though my voice cracks in the middle of spelling her last name. Then they tell me to wait.

  So I wait.

  I don't leave. Don't even think about it. My moms take KK home, get her fed, bathed, and into bed. But I stay. I sit in the chair next to Dani as long as they let me. When they ask me to leave during rounds, I move to the hallway and stay there too. I only get up to use the bathroom or splash cold water on my face when my head gets too heavy to keep upright.

  The doctors say it's good that she's sleeping. That her brain needs the rest. That she's stable. That word's supposed to bring comfort, but it doesn't. Not when I have to look at her like this.

  Bruised. Hooked up to machines. Her face pale. Her lip split. Scrapes and bruises down her arms. A cut on her forehead. She doesn't look real. She looks like someone else, and it guts me.

  I stare at the heart monitor more than I probably should. Watching it helps me breathe. Every steady beep, every rise and fall of her chest, it's all I have to hold onto. The nurse checks in every couple of hours and gently suggests I try to lie down. I nod, but I never move.

  I text Natalie. I don't have Dani's parents' number, but I know her sister will. Natalie answers right away. She tells me she's already driving back from a road trip in Louisiana. Their parents are out of the country on an anniversary trip but trying to get the first flight home. She asks if Dani's safe. I tell her Dani's alive, in the hospital, and the doctors are hopeful. I leave it at that and don't say anything else.

  I scroll through my phone a hundred times but don't respond to most messages. I read a few and then just stare at the screen, numb. People asking what they can do. People saying they're sorry. People wanting to help but not knowing how.

  I don't sleep. Not really. I close my eyes for a few minutes at a time. In the stiff chair. On the too-small couch. But every time I drift off, I see Dani at the bottom of those stairs again... twisted, still, blood on her forehead and the corner of her mouth. That image loops behind my eyes until I jolt upright, gasping. Sometimes I don't even realize I've fallen asleep until I wake up with a crick in my neck and sweat on my back.

  KK comes back the next morning. She doesn't want to be away from her mom, and honestly, I don't want to be away from either of them. She sits beside Dani, curled up gently near her arm. Dani doesn't wake, but I swear she knows KK is there. Her body softens, just a little. Her breathing evens out like something inside her calms.

  KK asks a million questions. Some of them are impossible. Some break my heart. I answer the best I can. I promise her Mommy will wake up. I don't care if it's a promise I can't guarantee. I need her to believe it. I need to believe it.

  She grabs her favorite book that Dani reads to her from the bag my mom packed and climbs carefully into the chair beside the bed. "I'll read to her," she says, flipping the pages with careful fingers.

  KK can't read yet, not really, but she's memorized parts of this story by heart. She recites it the way she remembers it, skipping some lines, adding others, her voice soft and serious like she knows how much it matters.

  When she's done, she lays her hand on Dani's arm and whispers, "Please wake up soon."

  By that night, Dani stirs.

  Not much at first, just a twitch of her fingers. A soft groan. Her eyebrows pull together like her body's confused by where it is. The nurse says they're lowering the sedation and that she'll probably drift in and out for a while.

  I watch her like I'm afraid she might vanish again.

  When she opens her eyes, it feels like something cracks open inside my chest.

  "Tay..." Her voice is dry and weak.

  I shoot to my feet and reach for her hand. "I'm here. You're okay. You're at the hospital. KK's okay. Everyone's okay."

  Dani looks around the room like it doesn't belong to her. "He was... there?"

  I nod. "He broke in. KK ran to us. You..."

She squeezes my hand faintly before I can finish. She doesn't need to hear the rest. I shut my mouth.

  That night is a little better. She drifts back to sleep but wakes again, a little clearer each time. Her voice is quiet, but she knows me. She knows where she is. It's a start.

  On the second night, she asks how KK is. If she's scared. If she got hurt. I tell her no, that KK ran fast, that she was brave. Dani's eyes fill with tears, but she turns her face toward the window and says nothing.

  By the third day, the doctors say she's stable enough to talk to the police. They come in with a notepad and a calm voice, asking gentle questions. I stay beside her the whole time.

  Dani tells them what happened. That Chris broke in. That he was angry. That he pushed her.

  He hasn't been caught yet. That part eats me alive. I can see it haunts her too. Her fingers clench the blanket as she talks, but she stays steady. Braver than anyone has the right to be.

  Later that evening, after my moms take KK to the cafeteria for dinner, a nurse steps into the room with a clipboard and a too-careful look on her face.

  "Miss Howard," she says. "We received some additional test results we'd like to go over with you. Now that you're stable and fully awake, there's something else we need to make you aware of."

  Dani tenses beside me. I sit up straighter.

  "You're pregnant," the nurse says.

  Dani stares straight ahead.

  "You're about five weeks along. The baby looks fine. No signs of trauma or complications. But we thought it was important to let you know."

  She doesn't speak. Doesn't blink. Just goes perfectly still.

  I feel frozen too. My chest knots up.

  Dani barely whispers, "Are you sure?"

  The nurse nods once, her voice gentle. "We're certain." Then she slips quietly out the door.

  "I didn't know," Dani murmurs.

  "I know," I say softly. "It's okay."

  "No it's not."

  I don't argue.

  I stand and lean forward, arms wrapping around her gently. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't pull away. She leans into me, her head on my shoulder, and cries.

  I hold her. That's all I can do.

  All I can think about is how I found her... broken, bleeding and somehow, through all of that... she's still carrying a baby.

  Chris's baby.

  My heart breaks all over again.

  But I stay with her, steady, breathing slow so she can match it. I run my hand through her hair and kiss the top of her head.

  "I'm here," I whisper. "Whatever you need. However this goes. We'll figure it out together."

  Dani's hands shake as she grips the blanket tighter, but her breathing starts to slow. She doesn't say anything else. She just leans into me like I'm the only thing holding her upright and maybe I am but I'm not going anywhere.