Ripping Pages (23 page)

“I can’t imagine.” I shuddered.

“She just fucking came out of nowhere and just shot my brother like it was nothin’.” He broke into sobs, and I wrapped my arms around him crying my own tears. I couldn’t imagine how scary that would be. Not to mention that Van almost died. He still could. The tears came pouring harder.

Van. My Van. My sweet man who meant everything to me. God, I missed him. I wanted him to know that I would always love him. I could never hate him. He was my everything.

What was I saying? I loved James. I forgave Van and I loved him, but I also loved James, and I couldn’t forget the things Van had accused me of—the shame and guilt he made me feel for no reason. I was all mixed up.

We walked back to the waiting room, and there, standing next to Mr. Whitaker, was Jade. Looking every bit the actress, she stood there breaking down in theatrical sobs while holding onto Beckett. I mean, I know she was just as upset as we all were, maybe more considering their
relationship,
but just the way she was acting was seriously rubbing me the wrong way.

She heard Sloan say something to the effect of Jensen and I walking back, and she turned her visine-teared eyes toward us. Seeing me, her face contorted to one of anger. “What the
fuck
is she doing here?”

Sloan turned to her as she gave me a hug and her voice was hateful, which was very unlike the sweet Sloan I had become great friends with. “
She
is here, because I asked her to be. And because my stubborn ass brother loves her. Only her,” she sneered defiantly at Jade. Who, in turn, ignored her and kept up her crying scene. Soon, the doctor came out, and we waited for what seemed like hours only it was just seconds as the man stopped in front of Van’s father. “Mr. Whitaker, it appears that your son is in a coma. He should have been awake by now, but he hasn’t responded to any of our tests. We have run an MRI, but there appears to be no bleeding in the brain, which is good news.”

Stunned, Mr. Whitaker asked, “So what happens now?”

“Now, sir, we just have to wait and hope that your son wakes up soon. I’m so sorry.” And with that, the doctor excused himself, as we all just stood there shell-shocked. Here we were not two hours ago thinking that this was all going to be over quickly, and Van would be up and talking. But now, he slept, and he didn’t respond to tests. My Van was comatose, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Would he wake up in a few hours? A few days? Months? Years? Oh God. What the hell was happening? My world felt like it was crumbling all around me as I struggled to breathe, and all the walls collapsed around me.

They let the family go into see him one by one. Sloan urged her parents and the band to go to the hotel across the street, and get some rest. The boys really needed some rest. They hadn’t moved from the hospital since Van was rushed to the emergency room 24 hours ago. Reluctantly, they all left. Jade stayed behind. Sloan smiled at me and told me that she’d be right back.

I saw her walk away from me and toward Jade, but she kept her voice down, and I couldn’t hear anything she said to her. What I did see was Jade’s violet eyes meet mine, and then she gave me the most hateful look. Real tears this time, welled up in those purple gazers, and for a minute, I actually felt sorry for her as she stormed out the doors to the exit.

Sloan came back over to me and gave me a hug. She held onto my shoulders as she pulled away. “Tin, go spend some time with my brother. I believe he can hear everything you say, and I know he’ll be waking up soon. I feel it. I’ll be at the hotel. Here’s the key to your suite. See you later. Let me know if you need me.”

I thanked her and slowly I walked toward Van’s room.

Everything seemed to be magnified. The signs on the wall. The lights flickering in the dim hallway. The happy calendar marked with all the fun events coming up. Nothing seemed real.

How would the world keep going if Van didn’t wake up? How would any of us keep going?

I pushed the steel door handle and the door opened. I wasn’t prepared to see him like that.

My strong, sexy, protector. My healthy, solid hunk of sexy rock star that stole my girly heart and made me feel like a princess wasn’t there. He looked like a small, vulnerable boy lying there. He had IVs pricked into his veins on both arms and a breathing tube coming out of his nostrils. My sweet Van.

I sat in the chair closest to the bed and timidly, I placed my hand over his, rubbing it back and forth the way he had done to me. I instantly felt the love and my need for him. It really was unlike anything I had ever experienced with anyone. Van and I were different from anything else. I stood up to kiss him on his nose and then his forehead. With tears pouring from my eyes, I whispered in his ear, “Baby, I’m-I-I’m so sorry. Van, please, hear me. I. Love. You. More than anything, baby. Please wake up. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I don’t hate you. I never could. I tried, and I lied to myself to make me think it, but I don’t. I love you. And you are my everything. Even if I’m not yours, you’re still mine. I love you. I’m sorry. I was just so mad at you. Please… please, wake up for me.”

I kept looking at his hands, his feet, his eyes, for any sign that he was waking up. I knew this wasn’t a movie, but everything that happened between us felt so surreal that I was sure he would wake up for me. As I stood there, hopeful, I realized that’s all I was, hopeful. He wasn’t going to wake up just because I had asked him to. He just laid there. I sat down, and was still caressing his hand like he’d caressed me so many times before. I was willing him to wake up. I stared at his hand that I held in mine thinking that I’d felt movement under my fingers, but nothing. I scooted the chair closer and laid my head next to his, trying to breathe in that
Van
scent, but I couldn’t find it. He smelled like medicine, and hospital, and sick Van. Not the Van that I had fallen in love with
.

Oh, God, Van, please come back to me.

I fell asleep still holding his hand and breathing the same air as him.

I was awakened by Sloan and her parents coming into the room the next day. I startled, and wiped the drool from the pillow beside Van’s head. I stood up. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Sloan and her mother, and even Mr. Whitaker, smiled at me and patted my shoulder as I walked past them. Mr. Whitaker stopped me as I reached the door,. “Tinley, I know how much my son loves you. He does a lot of stupid things, just like his old man. But please, don’t let that stop you from loving him. He’s been through a lot. Just please don’t give up on him. I haven’t seen him as happy as he was when he was with you since, Sarah.”

I smiled as I gave him a hug. “I won’t, sir.”

He chuckled, “Sir? I’m not that old.”

“No, you’re not. Sorry, my southern roots. It’s a habit.” I grinned.

“I like you.”

“Well, I like you, too, Mr. Whitaker.”

“Sam, please.”

“Sam.” I gave his mother and Sloan hugs, and then I kissed his nose and forehead and whispered to him again, as I grasped his hand, “I’ll be back, baby. Please wake up for me.” I kissed him once more and left for the hotel.

Once I was out of the ICU unit, I walked toward the exit and noticed the huge mob of people holding candles blocked off to the side of the walkway.

The sight of hundreds, maybe even thousands of people all there holding vigil for their beloved rock god was an amazing sight, and it reminded me how legendary he really was. It was hard to come to terms with that since I knew the REAL Van.

I made my way out the back exit and across the street to the hotel and up to my suite.

Shit, I realized that my phone had died after I last texted my mom. Oh, James was probably worried and livid.

I quickly found my suitcase, which was on the ground next to the bed and found my charger. Crap! Was I supposed to have an adapter? I had never been out of the country before, let alone to a European country. I started to panic. I wasn’t sure which room anyone was in, and now I didn’t have my cell to find out. I calmed my frazzled self down and called the front desk.

The woman on the other end of the line told me they had complimentary adapters for their American guests, so she was sending one to my suite. I breathed a sigh of relief as I placed the phone back in its cradle. A few minutes later, there came a knock on the door.

I opened it, and an older British man smiled and handed me the adapter for my charger.

“Thank you so, so much.”

“My pleasure. Will there be anything else, ma’am.” His accent rolled the words around in a way that made me smile.

“No, thank you.”

“Very well.” He bowed and left toward the elevator.

I figured out how to work the adapter, and I let my phone charge while I took a shower.

When I got out my phone had already powered back on, and there were tons of voicemails and text messages.

Several from mom asking about Van and wanting to know if I needed her. About twenty were from Tatum saying she had another shoot, but would be on her way this evening.

The rest were from James.

I had been so shitty to James, leaving like that and not even picking up the phone to speak to him.

His messages weren’t desperate, more like concerned and confused, and a little pissed off. I couldn’t blame him, and I instantly felt like such an indecisive weak bitch.

I was a little apprehensive to call him back so I called mom and Tatum, who was already in the air, and gave them both an update. They couldn’t believe that Van was in a coma. I guess the band’s label hadn’t made that statement to the public yet.

Once I hung up with them, I slowly clicked James’ number from my contact list, and my heart started beating faster and faster with each ring.

“Tin?” His deep voice laced with worry, resonated through the speaker and I jumped.

“Hey babe. I—I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

He sighed. “What the fuck, baby. You scared the shit out of me. Why didn’t you answer any of my calls or text me back?”

“I’m sorry. It was so crazy right when we got off the plane and then I didn’t even realize my phone was dead. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“So, how is he? I saw the news, but they don’t really have much information.”

And cue the tears—again. I tried to hold back my blubbering with James on the phone, because he just wouldn’t understand. “Well, his surgery went well. But he hasn’t woken up. He’s—he’s in a coma.” I couldn’t help the sobbing mess I became all of the sudden.

James was eerily quiet on the other end.

Finally, once I got a hold of my emotions and shut myself up, I pulled the phone back away from my ear to look at the screen. The timer was still going, but James hadn’t said a word. I timidly asked, “J—James? Are you still there?”

After a few moments, he spoke, “I’m still here.”

Ok? What was going on in that head of his? “What are you thinking, James. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say. I mean, I get it. He’s been shot, and you needed to go to him for Sloan or what have you, but what am I supposed to think, Tin? You don’t call me. You don’t pick up the phone. You don’t even have the decency to email me. You flew half way around the world, and I don’t hear from you. I just don’t know what
you’re
thinking.”

I decided to be honest. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, either, James. I love you so much, but I also love Van, and I don’t know what to do with all these mixed up emotions I have. He’s not even conscious, and I should still be mad at him for everything, but I can only think about him not waking up, and everything else seems so unimportant.”

“Unimportant,” he repeated the word back to me like he was trying to understand the meaning of it. “I see. Ok. Well, I have to go. I’m at work.”

Fuck!

“James, I—”

“It’s cool, Tinley. I’ll talk to you later.”

And with that, he abruptly hung up the phone.

What the hell just happened?

I tried calling him back but he ignored my calls, sending them straight to voicemail. I texted him and said, “I’m sorry. Please. That’s not what I meant.” But he didn’t respond.

Someone knocked on my door.

I went to open it, and I saw Tatum standing there with her Louis Vuitton luggage on a cart with the same bellhop who brought me my charger. The minute she saw me she came in for a huge hug. “Oh, Tin. How is that sexy man? How are you holding up?”

“He’s still not awake.” I shrugged as she tipped the bellhop after he brought her bags inside and set them next to the bed.

Crap was I supposed to tip him earlier?
Gosh, my mind was running a million miles a minute.

“I just talked to Sloan and she told me you were here, and where to find you. Are you going back over there?”

“Yeah, I need to shower first. I just got off the phone with James.”

“Oh, God. How did that go over? He was a complete mess when he woke up and found your note.”

I bit my lip, feeling like shit for the billionth time since James had come back into my life.

“I know. I hate this. I feel so lost.”

“I know, girl. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Thanks, Tate. There’s nothing you can say. I have to figure it out on my own.”

I showered and we left our suite and met with Chris, the band’s main security guard, in the lobby. He was a big burly wall of a man. He escorted us to the back entrance of the hospital and up to Van’s new private VIP room on the top floor. The room was filled to the brim with letters, flower bouquets, and stuffed animals all from devoted fans. Sloan, her parents, and the band and crew were all there in the room’s own waiting room. The somber faces told me all I needed to know. Van hadn’t woken up yet.