Heal Me (A Touched Trilogy Book 2) (9 page)

“Sometimes doing the thing that is best for us seems so hard,” she said softly. “Don’t doubt that you made the right choice.”

“Nanna...” I whispered back, “you didn’t see his face.”

She cocked a brow. Okay, so she’d seen it in my memories, but she hadn’t experienced his devastation as I had. Her visions were limited to seeing our past, not feeling it.

“You can’t help everyone, dear. Besides it looks like you’ve got a new hottie.”

There was something seriously wrong with a seventy-year-old woman calling a guy a hottie. Somehow, it was even more wrong that she was saying it about Micah.

She kissed my forehead then gave me a gentle push toward the stairs. “I’ll give you twenty minutes before I tell your father you’re home.”

I used my time to stare at my laptop screen. Micah’s email stared back at me, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than remembering the feel of his lips on mine. I definitely needed to get that under control before school on Monday. Micah was not boyfriend material even if I were looking. Which I wasn’t.

We had just started dinner when Phoebe and Nathan came in the door. All of our heads turned to look at them. It only took a moment before Nanna was up and rushing for Phoebe. She gripped Phoebe’s hand a moment and then her pale expression matched Phoebe’s.

“Say nothing,” she said in a hushed voice, not realizing that her hearing loss was making her louder than she thought.

“Lily.” Chloe’s voice came out shocked and saddened.

“What?” I tore my eyes from where Nanna and Phoebe were whispering at the door. The look on Chloe’s face was even worse than the one Phoebe wore. The sense of utter shock and horror was all I could pick up from any of them.

“How did I not see this?” she whispered. Her entire body shuddered at what she saw and the clang of her fork and knife on her plate was startling.

“What?” I asked her again.

Emma and Ella suddenly started babbling to each other in a language I couldn’t understand, a complete lack of attention giving them a chance to do what they wanted. Uncle Silas alternately stared at Phoebe and Chloe, probably reading what was wrong from just their emotions. I’d once wished for my gift to be that powerful, to read the reason behind an emotion without a single touch. Now I just wanted the peace of not knowing what others were feeling.

Chloe was sitting silent now, although she hadn’t stopped shaking, and Uncle Silas leaned into Aunt Lita to tell her something before they both glanced at me.

Whatever was going on, I was at the center of it, and that was definitely not a good thing.

Finally, Nanna stepped out of Phoebe’s way, letting her and Dad approach the table. There was something about the way they looked at me that made my stomach roll in dread.

“What’s going on?” I asked Phoebe. She hesitated until she saw Dad nod.

“I was over at Nathan’s and his dad got a call from the station. There was some kind of shooting. At the Bishop place.”

The Bishops. Dylan.

My mouth gaped, but nothing came out. What do you ask when you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer?

“He’s alive,” Chloe said in a hushed tone. “At least he will be for the next few hours. I haven’t seen anything beyond that.”

She made for the television and flicked it on, flipping channels until she found the local station. The news logo flashed across the screen. The news anchor popped onto the screen, looking serious.

“According to a police spokesperson, a seventeen year old boy was transported to Beachgrove General Hospital with a gunshot wound to the head. Police do not suspect foul play and say the injury appears to be self-inflicted. A source in the police department has told KGNP news that the victim was found by his mother who called nine-one-one. It has not been confirmed whether or not this was an accidental shooting. At this time, police are not releasing any names in order to protect the identity of the victim.”

You said sometimes the worst part of dying would be the fear. You were right. The fear is the worst part, but I don’t think I mind anymore.

Now I understood.

I barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up what little dinner I’d eaten. My stomach clenched until there was nothing left and I was dry heaving. I flushed the toilet and with trembling fingers, pulled some tissues to blow my nose. I stood, pulling myself up by holding onto the counter for support. Gripping a toothbrush, I scrubbed my teeth, needing to get rid of the acrid taste in my mouth. When I’d finished, I pressed my back to the wall, and sank to the ground, pulling my knees up to my chest.

Self-inflicted
. He shot himself. Dylan shot himself. I felt the nausea rise again and squeezed my eyes shut, taking in long deep breaths. It all felt surreal. How could this have happened? How could it be real?

My eyes opened and stared at the floor, trying to clear my mind of what was slowly tearing me apart. We had pink tiles. I’d never noticed they were pink before. They’d always seemed more of a taupe. The tiles aligned perfectly, except for one tucked under the vanity. It was so obviously crooked I wondered why Dad had not ripped it out as soon as he’d put it in. Maybe it had been the last one he put in, and he’d been so glad to be finished that he didn’t care how he did it. I’d done the same thing with Dylan, not caring in the end how I broke up with him, just that I finally did it.

“Lily, sweetheart? Are you okay?” Dad called through the door.

“Yeah, I’m...I’ll be right out. Just give me a minute.” I rose from the floor and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I was a freckled mess on a milky white canvas, but no tears. Tears would make this real. They would make this something that was final.

When I came out, only Dad was there. Everyone else had cleared out, leaving dinner on the table to cool.

“Are you okay? Do you want to go down to the hospital?” Dad looked so worried and I knew my pale face wasn’t helping, especially as the thought of going to the hospital made me feel even worse.

“Yeah. I guess...do you think I should go? I mean, we broke up.”

“I think that it’s a good idea, honey. I know you and Dylan have been having a rough time, but if he...if something happens you’ll never forgive yourself.”

“Okay. Did Uncle Silas leave?”

“He’s taken the girls home. Dylan will probably be in surgery, and Silas wouldn’t be able to get access to him yet, but he’ll stop by tomorrow if it would help.”

I nodded and pulled on my shoes, concentrating on tying the laces. The trembling in my fingers was back. I was going to the one place I hated more than any other, to see the one person I’d been hoping to avoid. I didn’t know if I was weak for going to see him, or if I was horrible for wishing I wasn’t going.

“I’m going to call and check that Nanna got home and then I’ll be ready to go,” he said and headed into the kitchen. I could have told him I’d call from the car, but I didn’t want to talk to her right then and Dad was a stickler about not talking on the cell while driving.

“Lily, I’m so sorry.” Chloe’s words came from behind me. “I don’t know how I could have not seen this.”

“It’s not your fault, Chloe. Beside you always say there’s no way to change the future.” I tightened the lace on my shoe, not looking at her. I could sense how bad she felt for not having seen this coming, but holding myself together was more important than her guilt.

“Maybe, but you could have been prepared,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you can prepare for.” I grabbed my jacket from the hall closet, slipped it on, and slowly pulled up the zipper.

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “Are you really going to the hospital?”

“Yeah.”

“Lily, are you crazy?” Phoebe asked coming up behind Chloe to gaze at me over her shoulder. “How can you do that to yourself?”

“I don’t really have a choice. I can’t not go.”

“He’s not your boyfriend anymore, and he’s not your responsibility, either.”

“So what, Phoebs?” Chloe stepped away from the entry so she could turn and see both of us. “She shouldn’t care? She should just forget about him?”

“No,” Phoebe snapped back, “but I don’t want to see my sister go through agony for a person who made the selfish choice to try and kill himself.”

“Selfish? The guy is obviously messed up or depressed.” Chloe was pissed. I wondered if I should feel that way, too, but I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything. It was almost a relief to know that once I entered the hospital I’d actually feel something again.

Beachgrove General Hospital wasn’t the busiest place on a Sunday evening, a fact I was grateful for, because it meant not having to constantly evade the slightest accidental brush with strangers. It also meant, though, that we found Dylan’s parents immediately. They were crying and, if I hadn’t already been engulfed with their pain from across the room, my heart would have hurt for them.

“Lily, oh I’m so glad you’re here. He’s in surgery right now.” Mrs. Bishop pulled me into a hug, squeezing tight as the transfer started. “How did you hear?”

“Phoebe was over at Nathan’s place when his dad got the call and then we heard it on the news,” Dad answered when I remained silent. It was too hard to talk while trying to keep from screaming in the agony of her embrace.

“Oh dear, I should have called you. To find out your boyfriend has been shot on television must have been horrible.”

I didn’t correct her assumption that we were still dating, maybe because she might then have reason to blame me. Dylan had been troubled, but what if my breaking up with him had been the final push into doing this? Everything faded within me and I felt only relief that the transfer was done.

She let go of me and I knew Mr. Bishop was fighting his instinct to hug me as well. He stood nearby and shifted awkwardly on his feet, eyes glued on me. He was not a touchy-feely man and probably figured it would just be a weird moment.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching out one hand, unable to bare it any longer, and touched his arm. I pulled away as soon as I knew the burning would be at a tolerable level.

“Have you had any news?” Dad asked.

“Someone came out a while ago and said that it looks like the bullet didn’t cause as much damage as they’d thought. Thank you for coming.” Mr. Bishop spoke in his typical matter of fact way only because I’d done the transfer. From what I’d taken from him, I knew he’d have been a broken mess. Coming had been the right decision.

I settled into a plush chair and let my eyes drift closed. I wasn’t completely drained, but my body needed some kind of rest. Mrs. Bishop rattled on about how she couldn’t believe Dylan had done this, how he was always so happy. How could she not have seen how unhappy he was?

Had I done too good of a job in taking his anger and pain away that she’d never witnessed one of his cracks? The question made me sick to my stomach. Had my gift finally hurt someone other than me? I was supposed to be a healer, but with Dylan, I’d never really done that. I’d only hidden it for a little while, enough that he never tried to get help, enough that his parents had no idea that he was having problems. This was my fault.

His parents were nice. They always had been, and I wondered what had happened to their relationship with Dylan. I didn't blame them for what Dylan had done, but it reminded me of when Dylan and his dad were so close. They’d go to baseball practice every other night during the summer, and then hit the batting cages in the winter. I squeezed my eyes closed tighter. Wondering wouldn’t help. All I could do was pray.

Two hours later Dylan was out of surgery and in the ICU. They were going to keep him in recovery for another few hours before they moved him and allowed any visitors. I got up from the waiting room chair I’d been sitting in and moved to where Dad leaned against the nurses’ station chatting with a pretty brunette. It was vaguely unnerving to see my dad flirt.

“Dad?” I said, touching his arm. He waved to the nurse as she left us alone.

“Hey sweetheart, how’re you holding up?”

“Okay, I was wondering if we could go home.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, obviously surprised. “You don’t want to stay and go in to see Dylan?”

“I don’t think it would be a really good idea considering...”

“Considering you broke up with him?”

I nodded. That was only part of the reason I wanted to leave. The other part was the group of people who had entered the waiting area a few minutes ago and the news they’d been receiving hadn’t been positive like the Bishops were getting. The discomfort was becoming unbearable, but I couldn’t afford to help them. Doing a transfer with them would suck out what little energy I’d just gotten back. Maybe that was selfish, but I needed to take care of myself.

My own guilt, though, was the biggest part of wanting to leave. Logically, I knew that Dylan had made his own choice, but I knew the break up had something to do with it.

“All right then. Do you want to tell the Bishops we’re leaving?”

“I suppose I should.” I went over to talk to them and to say they were surprised was an understatement.

“You’re leaving?!” Mrs. Bishop practically leapt from her seat. “Dear, you’ve been here for hours already. Don’t you want to wait to see him? The nurse just came by and said he should be transferred within an hour or so.”