Page 12 of Grip Me Tight
“She’ll be okay.”
“My son won’t.”
My stomach tightens and a prickle of dread falls down my spine. His voice is hollow, and the absence of grief, the vacancy of emotion makes me realize that some pain is too deep for tears, too big for words.
“The doctor wants me to sign this.” He holds up some paperwork and I catch the words ‘organ donation’. Dizziness hits me.
“Don’t you have to have that stuff already filled out? Like on your driver’s license?” It’s a stupid thing to say, but my heart is thudding, and my mind races, a jumble of thoughts I can’t organize.
“Apparently not. I wasn’t going to sign it. But then I was and then I decided I couldn’t do it.” His breath stutters out on a shaky exhalation. “And then I saw a kid shuffle over with a coffee for a stranger. He’s about your height, you know. My son. His hair is a bit shorter. And in a year or two he’d probably ask his mother and I for the money to buy a beat-up leather jacket that looks as cool as yours.”
My jacket cost around eight bucks at a thrift shop so I doubt it, but I just nod, the buzzing in my head getting louder. I’m holding my breath and my chest is starting to ache.
He lifts his coffee like a toast to me, but there’s no smile on his face. “As I looked at you, I thought, maybe this small kindness you’ve shown me is a sign. Maybe there is someone my son can help.”
There’s a snap in my brain that must have been my thoughts finally falling into place and the buzzing in my ears stops. I clear my throat, unable to speak for a second past the lump there. “There is,” I whisper. I clear my throat again. “There are families waiting… kids who can’t get better without…” I trail off unable to voice the horrible reality this man is facing. “I know one. A little girl who needs help. Everyone has tried to help, but there hasn’t been a match.”
I look up and the man is studying me intently. I realize there’s wetness on my cheek and I brush it away with the back of my hand. “Anyway, it can help. You can help. I’m so sorry about your son.” I back away and turn, shoving the bottle of iced tea into my jacket pocket, anxious to leave the bright, sterile light of the cafeteria, the lingering smells of the day’s menu items and floor cleaner suddenly clogging the back of my throat. I make it to the corner and sag against a wall, squeezing my eyes tight against the burning sensation. I hold the coffee to my lips, breathing in the little tendril of steam.
Thirty-six hours later, Sterling would be lying in a bed, somewhere in this hospital, getting a second chance at life.
7
Sterling
The party is banging. My parents throw an amazing party, and everyone loves being invited to a Whitlock event, but the Fourth is definitely the best.
There’s such a laid-back attitude, great food, excellent music and having it at the lake house means everyone is out on the water during the day, with guests taking out the paddleboards and kayaks or lounging on the deck boat. Even Dad took it for a spin today, the tube bouncing over the sparkling waves with Blaine and Slade whooping it up like teenage boys as Dad zig-zagged around. Despite the presence of Kingmaker at the party, everyone’s been pretty chill about it. Noah’s still just my brother and to my cousins, he’s just that cool guy who always brings his guitar to the campfire and can manage to eat six dogs without blinking. Over the years it’s mostly been friends and family, plus a few of my dad’s colleagues and clients who attend the party and mom would deliver a smackdown like nobody’s business if someone crossed the line with ‘her boys’ privacy.
Gordon is wearing the cutest little red, white and blue hoodie and I’ve been bringing him out periodically all day, posing with guests and creating content for his page. Earlier, Noah suggested I take one of him and Gordon relaxing on a paddleboard just down off the dock, blissed out on sun and mom’s homemade blueberry muffins. Gordon’s the sweetest little lizard ever and even though I hate the way women gush over how hot my brother is, even I have to admit he doesn’t look like a troll in the photo. Gordon makes everyone look good. This photo almost as well as Noah singing happy birthday to him.
Claire was momentarily starstruck when the guys initially showed up, and then again, when Laird bussed mom on the cheek and told her Easton Black said she was sorry she couldn’t make it. But she seems to roll with it and the last time I checked on her, Claire was hanging out with a reality star and her supermodel girlfriend explaining why they needed to start looking at compound investments. They were hanging off Claire’s every word and the supermodel even asked Claire if she would sit in on a phone call with her manager some time because she understood how Claire explained things way better than her manager.
Claire really needs to start her own channel or something. She’s so good at that stuff. As I watch, Tristan, the twins’ brother, brings her a plate, piled high with fruit and a veggie burger and sinks down next to her, his eyes never straying from the way she’s emphasizing her points with her hands. Looks like she’s already got one fan.
I snuggle Gordon a little closer. “Too bad you’re not some dragon-shifter, Gordon. I bet you’d bring me food and gaze at me adoringly too, right?” Gordon’s big eyes blink, in what I’d like to think is agreement. “I’d better get you back inside, it’s getting late.” My phone vibrates from the back pocket of my cutoffs and a knot of dread settles in my belly. I don’t even check my wrist, giving it a little shake in annoyance, but the buzzing doesn’t stop. Jake has been texting me all day. It started off with a couple of simple messages this morning wishing me a happy Fourth of July and telling me he missed me. Despite me telling him to leave me alone, he’s been checking in, asking if I’m well and sending me little memories of our time together. At first, I admit I was a little suckered in, alarmed by his one-eighty and texted him back to make sure nothing was wrong, but all it did was encourage him, so I stopped. And now today, his messages are getting increasingly aggressive again, and he tempers them with the whole, “I’m sorry, I just miss you” texts. He’s driving me crazy, and I want to block him, but when I suggested he stop texting me, he said he’d start calling the house until I agree to meet him so we can talk things through. There is nothing to talk about. I should have ended things long ago when he started to creep me out with his ‘adventurous’ behavior, like that time it turned him on to see how scared I was when he startled me in the dark hallway of a friend’s apartment building. If that wasn’t a red flag, him pinning me down to ‘change my mind’ when I wasn’t in the mood should have been. I’m a smart girl. I would have told any of my friends to run, but when you’re in it, you convince yourself things are fine.
Until they’re not.
The last thing I want is mom and dad getting involved, and that’s exactly what would happen if he started calling the house. They’re already over-protective, and this summer is supposed to be about me showing them I can take care of myself. I’m not certain what my next move is, but it certainly isn’t staying with mom and dad forever. As much as I love them and I’m so happy to be with them this summer, I need to be independent.
After checking to make sure Gordon is secure inside his giant tank and taking one last picture as he climbs in his hammock for the night, I sweep through the kitchen and swipe a marshmallow from one of the s’mores trays Mom set up. My back pocket buzzes again as I step out onto the deck. I spot my cousin, Emery playing a beanbag toss game with Ajax and a few others, while Tanner lounges near them, a glass of lemonade in his hand. His gaze meets mine under the white fairy lights strung around the pergola just as my phone buzzes again. I don’t need this right now. I pull my phone out to see a series of messages from Jake ranging from “I miss you” to “what are you doing?” and then about ten in a row saying “call me” with the last three in all caps. I really don’t want to deal with this, but I can’t put it off any longer. I turn to head back into the house, hoping for a little privacy where I can call him and tell him to lose my number, but I see mom and dad walk into the kitchen, so I need to find somewhere else. At that moment, my phone starts vibrating incessantly, just as Emery spots me and waves me over. Sighing, I wave back, holding up my phone and flashing a two-minute sign as I head down the steps towards the pathway leading to the lake.
8
Tanner
Itip the lemonade to my lips, watching as Sterling heads off into the dark. I can’t keep my eyes off her, no matter how hard I’m trying.
I’m hanging out with a bunch of people, including Noah’s beautiful cousin, Emery, who made her interest clear earlier, and I should take her up on the offer. I’m absolutely enjoying myself, being around people who don’t give a shit what I do for a living, or at least making a really good effort at pretending they don’t, and this just feels relaxed and normal.
Except for the way my skin tightens when Sterling is around, like I’m just attuned to the air she’s breathing. Thank god I’m leaving the day after tomorrow. I love Emma and Don but knowing Sterling is just down the hallway is wrecking havoc on my sanity.
I head out every morning for a run and I keep pushing myself further and further in the hopes I can outrun my feelings for her, or catch a note or even just a couple of words I can string together.
Nothing is working.
The big French doors open, and Emma walks out, handing off a tray of chocolate cookies to Don with a kiss on the cheek. Emery gives her a one-armed hug and Emma snags Ajax’s beanbag, laughing as she turns and mock dunks it. She raises her arms in victory and then wanders over to the bench where I’m sitting, a little wave of her hands telling me to move down and make room.
