More Than Anything (20 page)

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I’m floating in a warm sea, weightless and timeless, my body discarded, unnecessary, a being of light, of pure energy. I look down from where I’m hovering and see my old body in a hospital bed. I’m my mom now, hooked up to machines, waiting my turn to pass on to something else.

Then I’m pulled back into myself when someone forces one of my lids open and shines a blinding light in my eye.

“Ow,” I rasp and try to move, but my body has other ideas.

A male voice speaks from nearby. “I’m going to check the other one, okay? Just hold still.”

He repeats the process, the beam like a spike of pain in my head, and I hiss with a sharp intake of breath.

When he’s done, I try opening my eyes on my own, and find I can. I’m staring up at a doctor: black curly hair, thirties, a stethoscope around his neck and a concerned look on his face.

“You’re in the hospital. You were in an accident.”

“I…I know,” I manage. “How…bad?”

“It’s a miracle, really. Aside from whiplash and some bruises and ligament damage – and a broken nose and a few cuts from the glass – you’re in good shape. Then again, you’re young.” He pauses to finish his brief exam. “We did a CT of your head and neck, and there’s only a minor concussion. You got off light.”

“What…happened?”

“A truck ran a red. You’re lucky to be alive. Your seatbelt, the airbags, and German engineering saved you.”

“The driver…June.”

He glances away. “She’s still in surgery.”

“
Surgery?
”

“She had a more complicated set of injuries. The truck hit her side of the car.”

“Oh…God.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll pull through. She’s strong, and the paramedics were there in a heartbeat. You’re lucky you were so close to the medical center. It could have been a lot worse.”

My thoughts flit to Derek. “We were on our way to the airport…”

“That’s not important now. You need to rest. You’ll be in for twenty-four hours for observation.” He makes a note on the chart. “There’s a bunch of concerned people waiting outside. I don’t recommend seeing them, but it’s your call.”

“Will…is it dangerous to?”

“No. But if you don’t want to, I’ll say they can’t until tomorrow.”

“Who is it?”

“I have no idea.” He looks away. “Oh, wait. One of them’s the driver’s brother. I have no idea who the others are.”

“How many others?”

“Three. Two women and an older man.”

“White beard?”

“That’s it.”

“How do I look?”

“Like you lost a fight.”

I sigh. “Send them in.”

I don’t need to ask for a mirror. The look on Sebastian’s face says it all. They enter, walking gingerly, as though their footsteps might break something essential in me, and approach the bed.

“How’s June?” I ask.

Sebastian shakes his head. “They’re working on her.”

“Sage, anything you need, we’re here for you,” Saul says, and Ruby nods.

“That’s right,” she echoes.

“Anything,” Terry says.

I clear my throat. “We were on the way to pick up Derek at the airport. What time is it?”

Sebastian glances at his watch. “Ten fifteen.”

Crap. “Does anyone know where my phone is?”

Everyone looks around, and then Sebastian leaves the room and returns with it in his hand. “They’ve got your stuff locked up at the nurses’ station.” He hands the cell to me.

There are eight calls from Derek’s phone. I select one and call it. He answers immediately.

“Sage! Where are you?”

“I’m…we had an accident. I’m at the hospital.”

“What? God, no. What hospital?”

Good question. I have no idea. “Where am I?” I ask.

Saul looks alarmed, but Terry understands the question. “UCLA Medical Center.”

I tell Derek. “Are you still at the airport?”

“Yeah, but never mind that. How bad is it?”

“They say I’ll live. But Derek…they had to amputate my lower body.”

Silence, and I realize my sense of humor might not be firing on all cylinders. I wonder what they’ve put in the IV bag, and then he chuckles.

“That’s okay. Legs are way overrated. I’ll take a taxi there.”

“I’m sorry, Derek.”

“You weren’t driving, were you?”

“No. Sebastian’s sister.”

“How’s she doing?”

I eye Sebastian. “So-so.”

“How far is UCLA from the airport?”

“Maybe half an hour. Less if traffic isn’t terrible.”

“I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“Okay.”

I hang up and look at Sebastian. “What do they know about the accident?”

“The driver of the truck didn’t make it. Wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. But they know he was drinking. They could tell.”

I close my eyes and suddenly feel nauseated. Terry steps closer.

“They said you should be okay to leave tomorrow. You’ll be wearing that collar for a few weeks, but nothing’s broken. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Thank God my tracks are done,” I say.

Sebastian nods. “You’ll do anything to get out of putting in studio time, won’t you?”

“I’m shameless.”

They leave after a couple more minutes. I don’t envy Sebastian – his sister in surgery, the record clock ticking away. Everyone looks relieved that I’m going to make it, and I don’t blame them. They’ve invested a fortune in time and money into me, only to see it almost vanish in the blink of a traffic light.

I fiddle with the remote for the bed and raise myself to a sitting position. Every muscle in my body feels like I fell off a roof. My left wrist is throbbing, and I vaguely remember absorbing part of the shock from the crash with it – that must be the ligament damage they mentioned. At least it’s not broken. That wouldn’t be the greatest for guitar playing, as Derek knows.

A nurse comes in and looks over my hookups, and I ask her to help me up so I can use the bathroom. She shows me how to walk with my IV bag on a pole and waits while I use the toilet. I look in the mirror and immediately wish I hadn’t. My face is cut and bruised, my nose obviously broken. I pull up my backless robe and see bruises everywhere, which I know are going to be a lot sorer and more colorful by tomorrow.

I curse under my breath. Derek’s going to see me looking like I got hit by a train, which is close to what actually happened. I want to cry. Our romantic four days just turned into –literally – another wreck. We just can’t win.

I force myself to smile. At least I still have my teeth – could have been worse. But my back feels like someone swatted me with a golf club a dozen times, and the collar’s immobilized my neck, and I look like death.

The nurse helps me back into bed, and I close my eyes. I’m so numb now from how bad my luck has been I’m not even surprised. Of course my night won’t end like I’d planned. It never does.

A trace of a tear runs from the corner of my eye down my face.

Once again, everything’s ruined.

Brought to you by Sage, the romantic kiss of death.

I come to with a start when Derek speaks. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Derek, I must have fallen asleep,” I say. He brushes my bangs aside and leans over to kiss me as tenderly as a butterfly landing on my lips. I want to pull him to me, but my body isn’t accommodating. And I know from my earlier inspection that my lip’s split in two places, which isn’t exactly the most appealing thing I can imagine. He pulls away, and I try to smile, which is a mistake. My face is getting sorer now. “Welcome to L.A.”

He laughs dryly. “Yeah. A memorable first trip.” He eyes me. “How do you feel?”

“How do I look like I feel?”

“That bad?”

“Yup. But they say I didn’t break anything. I’ll be released tomorrow if I don’t stroke out tonight.”

“I can push your wheelchair.”

I fight back tears. This is so not how it was supposed to be. “I’m so sorry, Derek. You flew all the way out here…”

“To see you. And here you are. Mission accomplished.” He pulls a nearby chair close to the bedside and sits down, then takes my hand – the one that doesn’t have a pulse oximeter on it. Nothing says ‘love is in the air’ like medical equipment beeping in the background. It’s hard not to cry. I’m afraid I’ll lose that battle before too much longer.

“It wasn’t…I had it all planned, Derek. Dinner, champagne…it’s all wrecked.”

He shakes his head. “You’re so beautiful to me, Sage. All I need is you. I don’t care about dinner or champagne or any of it. Just you.”

A thought occurs to me. “My apartment key’s at the nurses’ station.”

“Good. That’ll make it easy to find tomorrow when we leave.”

I squint at him. “You’re not going to spend the whole night here, Derek…”

He squeezes my hand gently and reaches out to rub a finger along my cheekbone, which I can tell is swollen. His emerald eyes are soft, caring, warm, and something deep within me shifts.

He smiles that smile, and my world tilts, but in a good way.

“Try stopping me.”

The hospital doesn’t release me until one o’clock the following day. June’s condition is still guarded – her spleen ruptured, and she suffered internal bleeding, as well as massive head trauma. Nobody’s going on record to say she’ll be fine. Sebastian has only left the building to snatch a few hours of sleep, and when he comes to see me discharged, he looks haggard. I introduce him to Derek, and he’s polite, but it’s obvious his mind is elsewhere.

The frigging nurse forces me to sit in a wheelchair until I’m out the front door, which I find almost as humiliating as the throng of photographers waiting like a pack of dogs. Terry brought me a cap and sunglasses, but even so, I know I look like crap, and that image is going to be all over the news.

Derek helps me to where Steve’s waiting with the car, and after hugging Terry and Sebastian, I manage to wedge myself through the door. Derek climbs in behind me, steadying and guiding me with his hands. Steve knows the way, so there’s no discussion en route, just Derek’s hand in my good one, the other in a brace. If he got any rest during the night, I don’t know when – every time the nurse came in to check on me, waking me up in the process, he was sitting by my side.

At the building, we climb out and I thank Steve. Derek supports me as we move together to the front door. He eyes the marble lobby and breaks loose with that heart-stopping smile of his.

“Nice. A little different than my boarding house.”

“Wait until you see the apartment. It’s all kinds of awesome.”

Derek’s suitably impressed, but all I can think about is how I want to cry. This wasn’t at all what I’d imagined for our stay together – me hobbling around like a cripple and Derek playing nursemaid. He helps me to the couch, and I blink back tears.

“Throw your bag wherever. There’s champagne in the fridge if you want some,” I say.

“Little early, but thanks.” He sits down next to me. I try to turn toward him, but the collar has me immobilized. I sob – I can’t help it. He takes my cap off and smooths my hair with his hand. I’m blubbering like a newborn while he sits quietly next to me, holding my hand, waiting for the storm to pass.

I sniff loudly. “Could you get me a tissue?” I ask. “They’re in the bathroom.”

He brings the entire box, which is good, because now that the waterworks have started, they don’t seem to want to stop. I know I’m being a big baby, crying out of self-pity, but sometimes that’s all you have.

Eventually I run out of tears, and I dry my eyes and retrieve my phone. I called my dad last night to tell him about the accident so he didn’t hear about it on the news, and assured him I’m fine. Naturally he wanted to fly down, but I told him it wasn’t necessary. It took me twenty minutes to convince him.

Melody’s freaking out, even though I texted her to let her know I’m okay, and so’s Jeremy. I send them both messages to let them know I’m out of the hospital, and then return my attention to Derek.

“At least I’ve got a big TV,” I say.

“I liked you even before you had appliances,” he says, and we both laugh. Which hurts. My ribs are sore, which the doctor warned me would last a few weeks, and he wasn’t kidding. My smile turns into a grimace, and Derek’s face gets serious. “Are you okay?”

“In the way people are after almost dying in an accident, I guess. Other than that, no, not really. This was supposed to be our special time together, and now it’s ruined. I’m a mess, June’s in trouble, and everything I wanted for us is a shambles. So no, I’m not all that okay.”

He nods. “Have I told you how good it is to see you?”

I think I might start crying again. “Not nearly enough.”

“It is.”

“Even with the body cast?”

He chuckles. “It’s a collar, Sage.”

I hold up the wrist brace. “Do I get credit for this?”