Everything with you

Part 69

Justin

I moved fast, my feet almost tripping over themselves as I followed the nurse down the hall. My chest was tight, every beat of my heart loud in my ears.

But when I reached her room, I froze.

Through the narrow strip of glass in the door, I saw her—Emma. She was lying so still, surrounded by machines and wires, the soft, rhythmic beeping of the monitors filling the room. There was a tube running from her hand, another taped to her face, and the steady hiss of oxygen. Her skin looked pale against the stark white of the sheets.

Her mom sat beside her, crying quietly into a wad of tissues. Her dad's arm was around her shoulders, murmuring something I couldn't hear.

My hand rested against the doorframe, but I couldn't bring myself to open it. I just stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the girl who had risked everything—and nearly lost it—because of me.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Reynolds stood up, her steps slow and heavy as she made her way to the door. She stopped when she saw me. Her eyes, red and wet, locked on mine.

"It's your fault," she said, her voice sharp even through the tremor. Then she turned and walked away, her crying echoing faintly down the hall.

I didn't defend myself. I didn't tell her I knew. Because I did. Every word she said was already carved deep into me.

Mr. Reynolds lingered. He looked at me for a long moment before stepping closer. "I know it's rough right now," he said quietly. "But she'll pull through. She has to. Emma didn't get forced into this—she did it out of her own will. And she'd do it a thousand times over for the people she loves."

He paused, and I could see the strain in his eyes, the way he was holding himself together for everyone else's sake. "Her mom will come around," he added, his voice softer now, almost breaking.

I couldn't answer. My throat felt like it had closed. All I could do was nod, my eyes fixed on the floor.

He gave my shoulder a light squeeze before walking away, leaving me standing in the hall—alone, staring at the door I still couldn't bring myself to open.

I sat outside Emma's room, the same as I had every day since they wheeled her in here. Five days. Five days of sitting on this hard chair, staring at the door, listening to the shuffle of nurses and doctors, waiting for something—anything.

Her parents went in and out. Hayley sat with her sometimes, whispering things I couldn't hear. My dad, Ash, and Nate—they all took turns. But me? I couldn't do it. I couldn't walk through that door and see her lying there, pale and still, tubes and machines doing what her body couldn't. I stayed outside, always close enough if she woke up, never far enough to forget why she was in there.

They brought me food and clean clothes and tried to get me to sleep. I barely listened. My world had shrunk to this hallway and that door.

Today when footsteps approached with my stuff, I expected my dad, maybe Ash. Instead, it was Coach Grayson. He stood there quietly, holding a bag in one hand, watching me the way he always did before practice—like he could read what was running through my head without me saying a word.

"Come on," he said, voice low but firm. "Walk with me."

I shook my head immediately. "I'm not leaving her."

"You need a break, Justin." He stepped closer, crouched slightly so I'd look at him. "Dinner. That's all I'm asking. Ten minutes. You'll come right back after. But you can't run on empty like this forever. She wouldn't want you to."