Heart Thaw (29 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

“What are you burning, Sade?” Ella peeks in the kitchen, but I wave a hand at her.

“Go away!” I snarl just as the edge of a pot holder catches fire. I toss it into the sink and run water over it while I try hard not to cry.

In the early morning of the first day of the new year, Trent and I sat at his dining room table and watched the snow swirl down in billows while we drank coffee, our hair mussed, the smiles so big on our faces, I’m surprised we didn’t crack them wide open.

We agreed to wait a day a few days, come up with an incredible, foolproof plan, and present it all to my mom, Ella, and Georgia. As much as we repeated, over and over, that we didn’t need anyone to approve, we both wanted their blessing so badly.

We had one more week of meeting in secret, after his shifts ended, in the deserted rooms Peter left unlocked at the Triple C for us, in the backseat of my car, windows fogged, our bodies hot from the sex and chilled from the frigid air outside, and all over his cozy, beautiful house.

The house he kept hinting I should think of as my own.

But it’s finally Saturday night. Everyone has off of work, all our plans are pretty solidly mapped out. We decided I’d make dinner and Trent would bring dessert from a bakery a few minutes from his house. We argued over whether he should pick up pecan pie or apple torte, because we were too nervous to talk about what really scared us.

That maybe the people we loved most might tell us we’re idiots. Ask us to stop. Make us choose: us or them.

But that was worst case scenario. Unlikely.

Please, God, don’t let the worst case scenario be what we end up with.

So I’m in the kitchen, burning the pot roast, overcooking the potatoes and carrots, and wiping tears of frustration and nervousness away with my wrist before Ella can see them. I wish Trent could be here by my side.

I wish this were all over and we were past this scary uncertainty.

“Sadie, you’re going to burn the damn house down.” Ella comes in and does a gentle hip check to move me out of the way.

She pulls the roast out of the oven and examines it, plops it on a cutting board, and deftly cuts off the charred bits, then slices it thinly. I grimace when I peek over her shoulder. The outside of the roast has a blackened crust, but the inside is dangerously red and raw.

“Put a frying pan of butter on,
not too hot
,” she orders me, and, before my eyes, my little sister has become our mother, a magician in the kitchen. “Get out the sour cream when you’re done. We’re mashing those potatoes. I’ll show you how to do it so there aren’t any lumps.”

“Thank you,” I say, fighting the urge to burst into tears. I’ve been jittery all week anytime I’m not alone with Trent.

“What’s this all about anyway?” she asks, staring intently at the beef she’s cutting.

“I should be helping out more here,” I say lightly. “You and Mom do so much. I need to pull my weight.”

“Well, next time you decide to pull your weight double-check the dryer settings. My favorite wool sweater is Barbie-sized now.” She chuckles to herself and throws the pieces of meat into the sizzling butter.

The smell of char is soon replaced with the mouthwatering smell of expertly cooked meat.

She sets me to work mashing and whips up a thick, creamy gravy.

“So, that’s it? You’re just trying to be more domestic to help me and Mom?” She narrows her eyes at me while she works the whisk like a fury. “Because I’m kinda not buying it.”

I mash furiously.

“Hey, hey, easy,” she warns. “You’ll make those spuds stiff. Let me show you.” She flicks the heat off under her gravy and comes over to me, giving me patient tips. When I’ve got the rhythm down, she nods her head and says, “So is this about you and Trent?”

I blush so hot, I’m sure I’m lobster red. “It’s...that’s not…” I shake my head. “What’s up with you and Melanie?”

“Ah.” She nods like she knows everything, and my shoulders go slack with relief. Ella doesn’t seem to be freaking out about it. “Melanie is a better person than I deserve to have around. I’m really lucky to have her in my life, and I’m really glad she decided to give my stupid ass another chance.” She starts plating everything like a real chef. “So, spill. You realize you two can’t keep this a secret forever, right?”

I wanted to wait for Trent, but I feel like the stress of holding it all in is going to make me implode.

“Okay!” I press my hands flat on the counter. “Trent and I are together.”

Ella whistles long and low. “Have you told Georgia?”

“When I tried she told me how selfish I was. That I wasn’t any good for him.” I recite this with zero bitterness in my voice. “And I agree with her.”

Ella clucks her tongue softly. “Hey, I love George, but she can be a little overprotective. You’re not selfish, Sade. You’re focused. And it makes sense to focus on your own stuff right now. Your education is what’s going to make a really good life for you.”

“Thank you, El.” I smile shyly at my sister, who’s always been a little abrasive to me, but has shown me time and again over the last few weeks how much she loves me. “But I didn’t really know what I was going to do after spring semester. I was a little lost. But I finally feel like I found my way.”

Ella nods. “Good. I’m honestly happy for you.”

But I want to tell her the details, so I pull her to the side. I show her the terms of the internship, paid, that I secured starting two days after I graduate spring semester. I show her the loan I got at the bank based on my contract for work. It’s enough to redo the basement, which I want to help Mom pay for. It will also help cover some repairs around the house, which Trent is already plotting out and making plans to take care of.

“I also had an interview with St. Angelica’s. Peter’s friend knows the new dean of admissions. It’s not official, but I’m probably going to be in the curation program.”

I feel pride radiating through me as Ella flips through all the documents I have in a plain manilla folder.

“You’re coming home for good?” she asks, her face unreadable.

And my heart makes a giant leap, landing right in my throat.

“I know it’s going to be a little cramped. Trent asked me to move in, but I don’t want to do that until we get some basic things done around here. I guess I should have asked if you thought—”

But I can’t say another word. My sister’s skinny arms are hugging me so tight, the breath is choked from my lungs.

“Shut up, stupid,” she says thickly. “I was trying not to think about how shitty it would be around her when you left again. I can’t believe you’re really moving back. I never thought you would.”

I put my arms around her and lean my head against hers.

We’re like that, hugging in the kitchen, my feast resurrected thanks to Ella, when the front door explodes open. We startle when we hear Georgia’s wails and Mom’s frantic voice.

We both race out to the living room. Georgia has her phone clutched in one hand. Her face is white, her mouth hangs open, and she’s trying to get words out but she can’t.

“What is it, Georgia?” I ask, my voice so calm.

So calm considering my stomach has iced over.

She can’t get out a single coherent word, but I know just by looking at her. My knees buckle. I put a hand over my mouth to stop myself from throwing up and the room tilts and swims in front of my eyes. I feel Ella’s arms around me and finally hear the words like I’m underwater.

“
My friend…an EMT….a motorcycle crashed….ice….coming out of Yellow Cottage
.”

The tears pour down my face, and my voice locks in my throat.

Yellow Cottage. The bakery whose pecan pies and apple tortes are both so delicious, we argued over which to get.

And then, as quickly as I start to fall apart, I put myself back together, stand up, grab the keys.

“We need to go to him. Trent needs us.
Now!
”

Chapter Twenty-Two

There’s chaos in the emergency room lobby. The car that crashed into Trent’s motorcycle skidded off the road, and the three people in it also needed to be brought in, though no one’s injuries are nearly as serious as Trent’s. The receptionist tells us we have to wait.

Her eyes are sad, which makes me furious.

I want her to order us to sit our asses down in a bossy way, like we’re being too pushy considering everything is just fine and the doctors have this under control. The fact that she gives us such a pitying look makes me sick to my stomach.

I want to see him.

I twist my hands in my lap. Mom has her arms around Georgia, who’s staring straight ahead with wild, dead eyes, muttering to herself as Mom rocks them both back and forth. Ella is screaming at the vending machine down the hall. No one tells her to quiet down. I think most people wish they had the guts to scream like she is.

I think about last night. A deserted room after my life drawing class. Trent making me show him the sketches from the class he posed for.

“My ass has a lot of detail. Look, my knee is just a blob, but I could use this drawing of my ass as identification if I ever lost my driver’s license.” He pulled me on his lap as I slapped at his arm.

“You were definitely basically shaking it in my face.”

“Are you complaining?” He laughed and kissed me hard.

“No. And I’m not sure my drawing is all that accurate. How about you take off your pants, and I’ll double check?”

“I have other interesting areas you could focus on,” he murmured, kissing me soft, then harder, then torturously, until I moaned and started to press against him.

He stopped all of a sudden.

“Something wrong?” I reached out and stroked his face, pressing my fingers over his strong jaw, running my thumb over his full bottom lip.

“Do you think when we’re not sneaking around anymore….when this isn’t our dirty little secret…”

“You’re afraid I’m in this because it’s exciting right now, but I’ll ditch you as soon as it turns into our everyday?”

He gives a soft laugh. “Please tell me I’m an idiot. Tell me I’m not making more out of this than I should be, just because I want it so badly.”

I pressed his hair back, put my hands on either side of his face, and looked him in the eye.

“You are the only person who’s never given up on me, no matter how hard I pushed you away. You see the best version of me, and you make me want to live up your vision of me, Trent. You are the sexiest, smartest, bravest, most talented guy I’ve ever known. You know what scares the crap out of me?”

He swallows hard and shakes his head.

“No. I’m a little shocked to hear you’re scared of anything. Ever. You’re a warrior, Sadie.”

“It scares me that I could have screwed this all up. That my pride and stupidity and selfishness could have had you walking out the door and never looking back. I feel so damn lucky you gave me a second chance.”

He wrapped his strong arms around me and gave a scratchy laugh.

“Are you crazy? I’m the lucky one, and I know it. I was never letting you go, Sadie. I will never let you go.”

I get up too quickly. Mom eyes me warily, and I tell her I need a soda, then rush to my sister.

She’s winded, her hand pressed to glowing vending machine, her face pale and drawn. When she sees me, her lip wobbles like it always did just before she was about to sob when she was a kid. Usually I’d hold my arms out to her, but Ella beats me to it.

I collapse in her embrace and let the sobs shake out.

“What the hell happened?” I whisper.

She strokes my back. “Life, Sade. It’s unfair. It’s fucking so unfair. But he’s strong. The strongest person I know. And he has you. Don’t you dare underestimate how important your love is. He’ll pull through for it.”

“He will,” I say, hugging her tighter. I want it to be true, so I say it again. “He’ll pull through. He’ll be fine.”

We hold each other until we’ve cried ourselves dry, and, just as we’re heading back into the waiting room, we see Mom and Georgia standing, talking to a doctor, and we rush over.

I’m underwater again, clinging onto Ella’s arm as the doctor’s words buzz in and out, like a radio announcer talking through static.

“...several broken bones...brain swelling...sprains....road rash...coma…”

“He’s in a coma?” I cry.

The doctor’s face is kind, but tired. It’s been a long day for him. I’m sure it’s hard to deal with so much raw, aching sadness from family, especially after confronting all the blood and pain and brokenness of a young, strong body.

“It’s a medically induced coma,” he explains. “Trent had some swelling of the brain, and this is the best way to get it under control. I know it sounds frightening, but it gives Trent his best chance to heal.”

“We can’t leave him.” Georgia’s voice rises from somewhere dark and frightening. She shakes Mom’s hand off her arm and walks the few steps to the doctor, so she’s looking right into his exhausted eyes. “We can’t leave him alone. He’s my brother. I promised our mother I’d watch over him. I promised her I would.”

The doctor nods. “He’s out of surgery now. Family can visit. I have to warn you, his body took quite a beating. But he’s a very strong young man. A fighter.”

My heart punches, but I can’t intrude. This is Georgia’s brother. She needs to be the one to see him first. I watch as the doctor begins to escort her to desk. And that’s when I notice it.

“Georgia!” I cry.

She turns her head and looks at me, her eyes bleary and bloodshot.

Mom and Ella catch sight of it at that second. Mom moans and covers her mouth, and Ella grabs her hand and holds tight.

I rush over, hold Georgia’s arm tight, stare into my best friend’s eyes, and say the words I wish to God I didn’t have to say.

“Georgia, sweetie, you’re bleeding.”