“No. Not that. Before.”
I shake my head in denial. He can’t be talking about Aria still, right?
“It was an accident.” I reach for his hand, trying to hold it, trying to get through to him, but his fingers don’t grip mine. It’s like he can’t even feel me.
His head moves back and forth. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll always be broken. Drinking just helps me forget that a part of me is gone forever.”
I exchange bewildered glances with my sisters.
He keeps his eyes squeezed shut and his lips pressed together, his breathing erratic.
We sit in silence. Tears track down my face.
I knew he was struggling. I knew he needed help. But I didn’t comprehend, not really. How could I? I was too focused on my own problems, my own issues, my own grief, the business . . . everything.
Eventually, it’s clear he’s fallen asleep, his breathing slow and steady.
“What do we do now?” Taylor asks in a low voice.
“I don’t know.” I wish I did.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Archer
Finley’s worried eyes meet mine. “Maybe we should wait longer before we give him all this. What if he needs more time? He’s barely speaking. He probably won’t listen or care anyway.”
I lift Finley’s hand to my lips, brushing a kiss against her fingers before returning our hands to my lap and tightening my free hand on the steering wheel, driving us into the hospital parking lot.
Since Taylor is here, but only for another day or two to help with the cottages, we were able to escape to visit Jacob and give him some information on the inpatient rehab we found.
“It’s time, and it’s the right thing to do. I think he cares. Or he will, eventually. We have to give him the knowledge and then give him the time.”
She nods and turns to look out the window. She doesn’t have to tell me what she’s thinking—we’ve talked about Jacob a lot over the past few days since she told him about rehab.
I think it might be a good sign, but Finley is struggling, understandably, and she feels like she’s sucked me into her family drama, no matter how I try to reassure her. I always wanted a family, and now I have one. Even a broken one is better than nothing, but that’s the crux of it. I don’t think Jacob is broken, or Mindy and Taylor. Bruised and battered, perhaps. They have strong hearts, and they love each other. Anything can be built—or rebuilt—on a solid foundation.
Until Jacob deals with his guilt over Aria’s death, though, I’m not sure what anyone can do to help.
We run into one of Jacob’s nurses on our way to his room.
“Oh, good, you brought him some food?” Her whole face brightens. “We haven’t been able to get him to eat much.”
Finley turns her worried eyes to me, and I take her hand before we enter Jacob’s room.
“Jacob. We brought you some ribs from Veronica’s. Your favorite.”
He doesn’t say anything. He’s pale and listless and focused on the TV.
“Okay. I’ll put them over here.” She sets them on a table within reach.
She meets my eyes and then nods toward the TV, and I pick up the remote from the tray table next to Jacob and turn it off.
“We wanted to talk to you.” Finley stops at his bedside.
His eyes move from the blank TV screen over to Finley.
I guess that’s something.