All In (24 page)

Andrew is propped up against a stack
of fluffy white pillows when we enter the dimly lit room. His eyes
are open, but he’s squinting like the room is flooded in light. He
smiles when he sees us and my heart bursts with happiness seeing
him awake.

“Andrew, my darling,” my mother says,
leaning over to hug him, careful not to hold him too
tight.

“Mom, it’s okay. I’m okay,” Andrew
replies, his voice is hoarse as he tries to return her hug but
stops when it’s too much of a struggle.

She stands and wipes the tears from
her face as my father leans down and kisses my brother’s forehead,
his bloodshot eyes shut tight. “My son,” he says before righting
himself, and then wrapping my mother in his arms while tears roll
down both their faces.

“Hi,” Andrew says softly, when I take
his hand in mine.

“Hi,” I whisper back through my smile.
“How are you feeling?”

“Kinda sore.” He winces as he tries to
readjust his position. “Otherwise I feel alright.” He reaches up,
with great effort and touches the bandage wrapped around his head,
his eyes narrowing in confusion. “What happened?”

My mother gasps. “You don’t remember?”
She looks at my father then back to Andrew with concern, her hand
clutched over her heart.

Andrew chuckles. “No, no, I remember I
was in an accident. What I meant was, what happened… to
me?”

My mother looks instantly
relieved.

My father clears his throat. “Son, you
had some pretty serious injuries when they brought you in. Two
broken ribs, a torn spleen, your left leg was broken in several
spots and there was some major swelling in your brain,” he says
matter-of-factly. “They were able to alleviate the pressure with
surgery but you’ve been in a coma for the last two
weeks.”

“What?” Andrew says in a panic. “I’ve
been in a coma? For two weeks?”

One of the machines attached to Andrew
begins to beep frantically, causing Andrew’s nurse to return
suddenly.

“All right, all right,” she says,
checking the machine and then fiddling with a pouch of clear liquid
hanging above Andrew. She straightens the thin tube running from
the bag to the IV in Andrew’s hand. “Let’s get some rest now.” She
pats Andrew’s arm then picks up what looks like a small joystick
and presses the red button on top. “Just a few more minutes,
alright, folks?” the nurse says before walking out and shutting the
door behind her.

I watch as Andrew’s eyes become glassy
and a warm smile spreads across his face. “Now that’s the good
stuff,” he says, making us all laugh. Only Andrew.

“Sweetie, we’re going to let you get
some rest,” my mother says, brushing Andrew’s hair from off his
forehead. “But we’ll be right here so don’t you worry.”

“Wait,” Andrew says lazily, the pain
meds working quickly. “Is Greg okay?”

“Gregory’s fine, dear. You sleep and
we’ll give him a call and let him know you’re awake,
okay?”

“Fine, Fine,” he says
almost dismissively. “But where’s Lane?” Andrew looks at me and
then at our parents. His eyes are unfocused from the pain
medication, but he looks mad. “Are you two
still
keeping him and Ashley apart?
You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says with as much force as he can
muster under sedation.

“Andrew…” I stare at my feet not
knowing exactly what to say. “Lane’s not here because…well, we
broke up.”

“What? Why?” Disbelief laces his tone
and it makes me wince.

“Gregory told us what happened, dear,”
my mother explains, crossing her arms. “He said Lane practically
forced your hand, manipulated you into taking his place by using
his relationship with Ashley to make you feel obligated to race.”
My mother shakes her head and tsk’s.

I glance up at my brother and see his
eyes are opened wide, and he seems to be fighting against the pain
in an effort to push himself into a more seated
position.

“I don’t know what the hell Gregory
told you, but that is not what happened,” Andrew says as sharply as
he can against the weight of the sedatives in his system. “Gregory
challenged Lane to another race, but Lane refused to take the bet,
so I countered.”

“What in the world was the bet for?”
my mother asks from over my shoulder, sounding shocked by this new
information and taking the words right out of my mouth.

Andrew looks at me. “You.”

Me?

Why would Gregory bet Lane, and then
Andrew, about me? Money, I get. Bragging rights, sure, but me? I
stare at Andrew who’s fighting hard to stay awake. The medication
must be confusing him.

“Andrew, I think you’re confused,” I
say as kindly as possible, trying not to patronize him considering
he just woke up from a coma caused by a pretty serious head
injury.

Andrew shakes his head. “Ash, the only
thing I’m confused about is why in the world you broke up with
Lane,” he says. “Gregory bet Lane a hundred and fifty thousand
dollars to break up with you and Lane turned him down
flat.”

My jaw drops open and only a small
sound escapes from the back of my throat. “What?”

“I’m serious. Greg offered Lane enough
money to almost completely cover all four years at Yale if he would
just breakup with you. He has some kind of warped idea if Lane
wasn’t in the picture you guys would get back together. I got so
fed up with Gregory and his stupid vendetta against you and Lane
that I counter bet him he would have to leave you two alone for
good if I won. That’s why I was driving. Lane had nothing to do
with it, he even tried to stop me.”

I have to sit down. I grasp behind me
until I find the chair I‘ve spent so many days sitting in next to
Andrew’s bed and fall into it, my mind barely able to wrap itself
around what Andrew is saying.

“You…were racing…for me?” I stammer.
“And Lane… turned down the money?” I’m not sure anyone can hear my
question since I can hardly hear myself over the pounding in my
ears. A shudder runs through my body and just like the night of the
accident, in a single second, everything I thought I knew has been
shattered.

Andrew strains to take my hand. “Don’t
you know I would do anything to make sure my little sister is
happy, and so would Lane for that matter.” Andrew smiles big, even
though it looks like it’s taking great effort. “Ash, Lane told Greg
you’re the love of his life and no amount of money would ever
change that. Lane’s a good guy. A great guy actually.”

The lump in my throat makes it hard to
swallow and my already swollen eyes start to fill with fresh tears
because I know Lane is better than great; he’s amazing and I’ve
lost him.

“Alright now,” my father says, helping
me out of the chair and wrapping me in his arms, my knees weak.
“Let’s let your brother get some rest, and we’ll get this all
sorted out a little later. Okay, sweetie?” He leans down and kisses
the top of my head.

“Don’t worry, sis. Lane will
understand…I bet you,” Andrew mumbles before closing his eyes and
finally letting the drugs take over.

I shake my head as hot tears spill
from my eyes and run down my face.

That’s one bet I wouldn’t take if I
were him.

Lane

The sun is too bright. It’s been too
bright for the last two weeks.

“Lane? You ready?” Mom yells from the
kitchen, her keys clinking together impatiently.

I walk into the kitchen, my backpack
thrown over my shoulder with my work uniform getting wrinkled
inside. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I answer without a single inflection in
my tone, barely able to go through the motions of the day, let
alone with enthusiasm.

Mom brushes the hair off my forehead
with a sigh. “I know it’s tough right now, honey.”

“Don’t you mean I told you so?” I ask.
I’ve been waiting for it for a while now.

“Lane, of course I had my
reservations when I found out Ashley was a Stay, but those
are
my
reservations because of
my
past. Your father never looked at me the way you
look at Ashley, and I saw the way she looked at you too. She loves
you, sweetie. I know you two will work this out.”

“You weren’t there, Mom, at the
hospital, she blames me for Andrew’s accident.” I hang my head. “I
don’t know, maybe she’s right.”

“Lane, it was an accident.” Mom puts
her hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “Accidents
happen all the time. This was not your fault. I’m sure she was just
scared and let that worry for her brother turn into
anger.”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “But I doubt I’ll
talk to her before she leaves for school next week. She hasn’t
answered any of my calls or texts, so I finally gave up trying. She
doesn’t need me bugging her right now anyway, with Andrew still in
his coma.”

“These things have a way of working
themselves out,” she says with a small smile and a pat on my cheek.
“Come on and let’s get you some breakfast in town. A little food
will do you good.”

Mom tries to perk me up while we eat.
She talks about all the things I’ll be able to do and see in
Boston, but it doesn’t help. All it does is remind me of everything
I’ve lost.

I wipe my mouth with my napkin then
toss it on the table. “Breakfast was great, thanks, Ma.” She
glances at my plate, which I barely touched, then gives me a sad
smile. “I think I’m gonna head out and walk to work today, get
there early and see if I can pick up an extra hour or two.” I may
not be going to Yale anymore, but Boston Community College isn’t
free either.

I take my time walking to work. It’s
nice to be alone and not have to fake like I’m not totally
miserable every second. By the time I get there, the early
afternoon sun is high above me, and I can feel my nose is
sunburned.

I walk into the garage, and I’m
surprised to see Sam, in full uniform, standing in Vic’s office.
“Sam?”

“Oh, Lane. Great, you’re here early,
Officer Evans needs to speak with you.” Vic stands up from behind
his desk. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

“Sam? Is everything okay?” I ask after
Vic shuts the door of his small office, leaving us
alone.

“Everything’s fine—I just had to ask
you a few more questions, trying to wrap up this
investigation.”

“Sure.” I nod.

“It’s about your tires.”

“What about them? You don’t think they
had something to do with the accident, do you?” I ask panicked,
praying Sam says no. I’m not sure I could take it if the reason
Andrew was hurt was because of my car and I let him drive
it.

“Well, we don’t know yet. We only have
one of the tires, the rest were burned in the fire, but by the
pattern of the skid marks on the road and the way the car flipped,
it appears there may have been a malfunction with at least one, if
not all four of them.”

I rake my hands through my hair.
“Seriously? Do you think I got sold faulty tires? I just got’em,
brand new in the spring. Or do you think…” I trail off, unable to
finish the question. If they aren’t faulty tires, could the problem
be how they were put on? Fear grips my insides. I changed the tires
myself, just a few months ago.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Lane?” he says, jotting down
something in a small black notebook he’s pulled from his back
pocket.

“I…I put those tires on myself.” I let
my statement soak in. It does and quick.

Sam clamps his hand on my shoulder,
avoiding my arms that are still wrapped in bandages. “No, no that’s
not what I meant. The tires were put on just fine.” Relief washes
over me that it wasn’t something I had done incorrectly. Sam
glances behind him and then back to me. “The one tire we do have is
completely shredded. It’s like he was screeching to a halt over a
bunch of glass or nails or something, but besides the debris from
the wreck itself, there’s nothing that would have caused that to
happen. It’s most likely the tires were bad. Don’t worry, we’re
gonna contact the manufacture, see if there’s been any other
incidents like this.”

The tires were shredded? Like he was
stopping the car hard over glass or nails? I don’t need to close my
eyes to remember the sounds of the accident, it replays over and
over on a loop in my mind, but I close them just the
same.

I watch the memory play back like I’m
watching a movie. Andrew pumps his fist in the air before
disappearing around the fork at full speed. There’s a screech, then
two loud booms and finally crunching metal. It all happens so fast.
I run until I’m engulfed by smoke and fear, my eye sight hazy.
Andrew’s trapped and unconscious, and there’s fire everywhere. I
hear Gregory yelling, but I can’t make out the words. He slams his
trunk shut and then lifts his phone to his ear. He’s calling for
help. I turn back to Andrew and see blood, everywhere.

I force my eyes open. It’s hard to see
Andrew like that, lifeless and bloody. I shake my head, blinking a
few times to clear my mind.

“Hey, I didn’t just come down here to
ask about the tires, I wanted to let you know the good news,” Sam
says, sliding the notebook back in his pocket. “Andrew Whitmore
came out of his coma this morning.”