More Than Anything (22 page)

“That’s good.” A thought pops into my head. “I’m not sure how long it will be before I can play again, though. My wrist is kind of thrashed.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you a band. All you’ll need to do is sing. Piece of cake. I already sent Terry a short list of some of the best names in town for the tour.”

“That’s great, Saul. I appreciate the support.”

“Sweetie, you’re going to get everything this label has. Now just take it easy and get better. The rest can wait.”

I hear the words, but his tone says he’s got a lot riding on me and he’ll be relieved when I’m back in the saddle. I don’t blame him – nobody planned for this.

He continues. “Our PR people are making a big deal out of it, though. You’re on the cover of every newspaper, on every website. Talk about free publicity. You’ll sell an extra million just off the coverage alone. Sebastian is working on a sneak preview of that first song you did so we can capitalize on it while everyone’s paying attention. So rest, get better, and leave the magic to me.”

It figures Saul’s worked out a way to make my misfortune pay. Not that it’s a bad thing – in this business, any publicity’s good publicity, and I don’t blame him, even though it seems extremely calculated. But that’s his job, and he’s clearly very good at it.

I disconnect and call the studio. It takes six rings to answer, and when it does, it’s an annoyed-sounding John.

“What?” he snaps.

“John, it’s Sage. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Sage! No, no problem. We’re just all a little tense right now. You want to talk to Sebastian?”

“Yeah, if it’s not a bad time.”

“Never.”

I hear a murmured discussion, and then Sebastian’s voice comes on the line. “Sage, how are you?”

“Pretty thrashed, but I’ll live. Have you heard anything about June?”

“She’s in the ICU. They think they got all the internal bleeding, but they’re worried about her head MRI. Apparently she had some bleeding in her skull.”

“Oh, God.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, apparently. They don’t think it did any permanent damage, and the meds she’s on are breaking it up. It’s dissolving. But she’s not out of the woods yet.”

“When can I come by to see her?”

Sebastian hesitates. “I’ll call you after I get back tonight, okay? Hopefully tomorrow. But no guarantees.”

“I know.” I pause. “I can’t believe you can work with all this going on.”

“It’s actually good I have something to do, because otherwise I’d be bouncing off the walls. I don’t do well with this kind of thing,” he admits.

“Don’t forget to call me.”

“I won’t. I have your number.”

I hesitate. “Sebastian? Thanks for going the extra distance. It’s got to be hard.”

“The fact that I’m working on my favorite project ever doesn’t hurt.”

“I’ll try to make it in as soon as I can.”

“I don’t have a whole lot for you to do. But I definitely want you in the mixing sessions. This is a collaboration, not a dictatorship.”

“Says the guy who schedules my bathroom breaks.”

I can hear him grin over the phone. “Guilty.”

“Call, Sebastian.”

“I will.”

Derek comes out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist, and I almost drop the phone. He’s incredible, especially glistening with water. If I’d forgotten any of the details from my peek at him at Bull’s, they all come rushing back, and in spite of my condition I feel a stirring.

Which instantly turns into pain as I try to twist my neck.

End of awesomest moment of my life.

“Sorry. I forgot my stuff,” he says, his hair askew. In spite of the agony I’m feeling, I want to jump on him. I’ll have to settle for another moan. He comes over and kisses my forehead again. I turn my face up to meet his, but my lips sting a reminder when I pucker them. I hate my predicament with a passion. His lips graze mine so lightly it’s like an angel’s breath on my face, and then he pulls away.

“Don’t stop,” I say, but it’s no good. The vision of my brutalized face in the mirror jumps to the forefront, and the mood disintegrates. He eyes me, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and then shakes his head.

“Rain check?”

“It’s always raining lately, isn’t it?” I grumble.

He laughs, and the sound’s as musical as wind chimes. “It only seems that way. I…I want it to be right. This is special, Sage. You’re pretty banged up. I can wait a little longer.”

Derek’s right, but I hate reality. Then again, I can see his point. It’s probably not all that arousing to be kissing someone covered with bruises and cuts. And I too want our time together to be special. This is only special in the sense of how much pain I can endure when I move.

I sigh. “It’s so frustrating.”

He nods. “It is. But everything happens for a reason. I’m not sure why this happened, but it did, so I’ll roll with it.”

“This is going to be the longest four days of my life.”

He wipes a strand of wet hair off his face, and his bottle-green eyes flash in the sunlight.

“At least you’re alive, Sage. We both have a lot to be thankful for. I know I am.”

I reach out and touch his face with my fingers. “You’re right, Derek. But I can still be an ingrate, can’t I?”

He laughs. “Of course.” He stands, and I resist the urge to pull him on top of me. Partially due to my incredible self-control, as well as the surge of pain radiating from my temples. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he bends over and lifts his bag, the iron muscles in his arms and chest bulging as he effortlessly hefts it, and I curse under my breath.

“What’s that?” he asks.

I flash on my tattoo with the line from Bobby McGee, and offer a sad smile.

“Nothing.”

The next day I’m back at the hospital for my appointment with the doctor, who wants to see me every forty-eight hours for the first week. He doesn’t seem concerned about the headaches and constant pain, and prescribes some Vicodin. He shows me the CT scan that was done when I was admitted, and after a thorough exam proclaims that I’m healing nicely.

Of course, it doesn’t feel like I’m mending. It feels like my world’s collapsing in on me like a building in free fall.

Derek’s been awesome, and once I stop feeling sorry for myself and accept that we’re not going to be doing anything romantically on this trip, we’re really enjoying each other’s company. I forgot how much I like just hanging out with him, talking about nothing, passing the time. It reminds me of our cross-country trip, of that easy camaraderie we had in the early days before we hit New York, back when we were penniless and relatively carefree. A time that now seems as distant as the Stone Age.

After I’m done, we make our way to the intensive care ward, where Sebastian is waiting for us – I told him about my appointment, and he suggested he come to the hospital. June regained consciousness last night, to everyone’s relief, although the doctors are still concerned about her bleeding and the cracked vertebrae she suffered.

Sebastian eyes me as we walk down the cold corridor toward the waiting area, and he rises as we near. He gives me a gentle hug and shakes Derek’s hand. I can see the stress lines around his eyes, and he looks fatigued.

“How are you doing?” he asks, sizing me up.

“Doctor says I’ll be ice skating again in no time.”

“That’s a relief.” He glances at Derek. “Just in time for Central Park.” He sees the puzzled look on my face. “The lake in Central Park freezes over in the winter, and people skate on it.”

“Oh,” I say. I forget sometimes that Sebastian has been all over the world, and that New York, even though it seems like it’s a million miles away, is just a business trip for him, probably round-trip in one day.

“Is your sister doing any better?” Derek asks.

Sebastian nods. “I think so. But it’s hard to get a straight answer out of anyone. All the doctors will say is that they’re optimistic, that she’s young, that she’s not out of trouble yet, but making progress…it seems like they don’t really know.”

“That’s frustrating,” I say, thinking about my meeting with my doctor.

“Yeah, but she’s conscious, so she’s obviously getting better.” His eyes narrow as he takes in my face. “I see the bruising’s going down.”

“Doesn’t seem that way, but it looks a little better than yesterday,” I say.

“How does it feel?”

I debate a candy-coated answer and instead tell the truth. “Terrible. Everything hurts.”

“I’ve never been in a car accident, but my friends that have been all say the same thing – that when it first happens, you’re still in a state of shock, and it’s only afterwards that you realize how hurt you are,” Sebastian says.

“I’ll vouch for that. It was worse the day after the accident.”

“The good news is that means you’re healing.”

“If you say so.”

Sebastian walks to a nearby door and cracks it open. After leaning in and saying something, he motions us over.

June’s got the twin of my collar around her neck and is giving me a close run for my money on most bruised girl of the year. She tries a smile, but I can see the pain in her eyes.

I approach the side of her bed and look down at her, which is tough given that I have to lean my whole body forward to do so, thanks to my own collar.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she says, her normally effusive voice small.

“That’s the last time I let you drive.”

She closes her eyes in a long blink, and when she opens them, they’re moist. “Yeah. Next time…limo.”

“June, this is Derek. We were going to the airport to pick him up.”

Her eyes swivel to him, and one side of her face twitches. “Nice to…meet you.”

“I’m really sorry about this. I should have taken a cab.”

June sighs. “I’ll say.”

“I owe you a car,” I joke.

Sebastian clears his throat. “Nah. Insurance covers everything.”

“I want a red one,” June says. I laugh once before grimacing as my ribs signal that they’re nowhere near healed.

“I’ll go with you to the dealer,” I say.

June raises an index finger and looks away. “All…crooks.”

It’s clear that just that short interaction has tired June, and my heart is heavy when Derek and I make our way back down the hall, leaving Sebastian with his sister.

“She looks…not so great,” I say.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees.

“She’s usually so perky and on. I wish you’d met her when she was…when she wasn’t hurt. She’s really cool. You’d like her.”

“I believe you. She’s going through a tough time.”

“I can’t believe I wasn’t hurt worse,” I say quietly.

Derek takes my hand, and I feel a flush of warmth. We walk slowly to the elevator and wait silently, no need for words. We’re both imagining me in the hospital bed, like June. It’s just random chance that it’s her and not me, and we know it.

When we reach the lobby, Derek clears his throat. “You want to go somewhere for lunch?”

I consider my bruised face and shake my head. Or try to, and am rewarded with a stab of pain.

“No. Let’s get my meds, and then you can go grab something. This wore me out.”

Derek moves with me to the doors, and I’m glad for my sunglasses in the harsh afternoon glare. A light beige haze lingers on the horizon, the residue of the Los Angeles rush hour that will hang like a pall over the city until dark. We take the stairs cautiously, and I feel like a complete invalid for the hundredth time today. I teeter between happiness that Derek’s with me and complete despair at my condition, sometimes simultaneously, and this is one of those times.

The pharmacist gives me a look like I’m a junkie when he fills my prescription, but I don’t get annoyed. All I want is for today to be over and the pain to be gone, or at least dampened. I’m putting on a brave front, but I can’t wait to crawl back into bed – being up and around’s taken everything I have, and I’m not sure how much longer I can last.

When we get back to the apartment, I let out a sigh of relief. Derek helps me to the bedroom and brings me water to wash down my pills. As I close my eyes, his strong jaw and boxer’s nose are the last things I see, and I thank the universe for bringing us together. Because I know what a life without him feels like, and for me, that’s a life not worth living.

One way or another we have to find a way to be together. It’s obvious he feels the same way, and even as I drift off in a narcotic slumber I have hope. When two people want to be together more than anything, nothing can keep them apart. I truly believe that, and after winning the contest and embarking on a dream life, I’m determined to be with Derek, whatever it takes.

Our final lunch before Derek takes his taxi to the airport is as sad as any funeral. My longing for him has only grown stronger over the four days he’s been here, and I’ve cursed my body with every breath for not healing faster. I considered making a move at a few points, but knew it would end in disaster, so I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to, and the frustration I feel is strong enough to burn through the numbing well-being of the Vicodin like a brush fire.