She sits up a little, interlocking her fingers with mine and squeezes my hand. Keeping her arm with the two IVs outstretched, she turns to face me better.“Brendan, I –”
Exhaling slowly, I continue. “A couple years ago, Breckin started dating a girl, Carissa. He thought he was in love with her. Thought she was the one. Hell, we both thought it might work.” I look away, watching the numbers climb on her machines as they beep faster through the silence. “Anyway, she moved in with us. But it um . . . Turns out, she only wanted anything to do with me when it suited her in the bedroom. Outside the bedroom, she thought I was the dirt on her shoes. When she laughed in my face, told me she could never love me and I would never amount to anything, it cut me to the core.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t just Carissa. It was everyone, my entire life. Eventually, it all got to me. I figured not being alive was better than being a constant failure.
"I um . . . I got in my car one day and drove off a cliff. It just seemed like the best option, like no one would ever miss me.”
“You . . .” Her voice is quiet, barely reaching my ears.
“It was a stupid thing to do,” Breckin interrupts, returning into the room.
I nod, staring down at Asra’s hand in mine.
“His Mustang slammed into a tree. Shattered the windshield. The force of the crash sent the broken shards of glass straight into his face and chest. Two weeks in the ICU, a few broken ribs, and a month stay in a rehab place. He’s lucky it didn’t do more damage.”
“The worst part was the hours the nurses spent digging the glass out of my chin and chest.” Compared to that, all the therapy at the rehab place was a breeze. I try to smile, pretend that just being back in this damn hospital doesn’t bring back all those haunted memories as Breckin comes around and places his hand on my shoulders.
“I had one job to do. One job my entire life, take care of my brother. And I failed.”
Asra blinks back a few tears, still squeezing my hand.I swear, she hasn’t taken a single breath since I started. With her other hand, she reaches up, caressing my cheek. “Your chin, the bumps?”
I nod, but before I can tell her about all my scars, Breckin interrupts. “We’re not perfect, Sweetheart. Neither of us are. No one is.”
“So don’t tell us that we deserve someone else. We want you. You. Exactly as you are.”
“We’re here for you,” he kneels down, placing his hand over ours, “always.”
Chapter 27
Asra
Iswear, they’ve hadme on house arrest for the last week. Okay, not exactly house arrest, but it might as well be. At least one of them is always here. They barely let me leave and watch me like a hawk.
As overbearing as it feels sometimes, it’s also sweet. I’ve been running with Breckin almost every morning, cooked breakfast for both of them most of the week, had dinner with them both every night, and spent several evenings relaxing in their pool. It’s a life I could get used to, one that just fits.
And, I feel better. Much better. Whatever was in that transfusion at Seattle, it helped. By the time we finish with our morning runs, I no longer feel like I’m being fried alive, my eyeballs no longer burn. Even when it’s really bright outside.
Smiling after my latest run, I crash on the couch beside Brendan and kick off my shoes.
“What’s this?” he asks, picking up the glass bowl on my end table beside the couch.
“Shells.”
“You collect shells?” He picks at a few.
“Memories, really. Most of them I found with my nana. They all mean something to me, remind me of different events. ”