Not After Everything (22 page)

It seems like a year before Dr. Meyer finally strolls into the room. I hate that she looks so nice, that she doesn't act how she looks.

She pokes and prods much harder than Damon and I want to die from the pain. I'm trying to hold my shit together because Jordyn is in the corner seriously losing hers and I can't stand it.

I'm pretty sure Dr. Meyer likes to speak medical jargon so I won't know what the hell's going on. I wish she'd just hurry it up.

“It's not a big deal,” Damon explains after she leaves. “Dr. Meyer just wants to run a few tests to make sure everything's healing as it should be.”

“I'm going to need surgery, aren't I? They're going to have to take out my spleen, aren't they?”

“Probably not, but we just need to be absolutely sure. It's not a big deal even if we do.” He says the last part to Jordyn, who's now shaking, she's crying so hard. I wish I could hug her as much for my sake as for hers, but even the thought makes me wince.

“If I need surgery . . . ?”

“One of your guardians will be able to sign off on it,” he says. It's awesome how he's able to anticipate my worries like that. He's really good at his job.

Another nurse comes in, and she and Damon work together to unplug and unhook things so that I'm mobile. Then they wheel me out of the room and Jordyn's left there in that sad little mauve chair, alone. As they push me down the hallway, Damon assures me that he'll go back to check on her just as soon as I'm situated.

It's dark when I wake up back in my hospital room. Damon's shift is long over, so I'm shocked to see him sitting with Jordyn.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Enh” is all I can manage. He explains that something started bleeding again and they thought they might need to take out my spleen, but it turns out they just had to cauterize a pesky blood vessel. It required a “non-invasive” procedure. Non-invasive my ass. They still had to cut into me in a bunch of places and stick a camera and some tools in my side. That seems pretty damn invasive to me.

I'm still kind of out of it, but I can't feel anything. So in that way I'm doing pretty damn good.

“Visiting hours are technically over, but . . .” He shrugs.

I try to say thank you but it comes out as an incoherent drool/moan.

“You have twenty minutes, sweetie,” he tells Jordyn as he leaves the room.

She nods. The top of her green shirt is wet, but she's not crying now. Somehow I manage a small nod, gesturing for her to come over.

She does.

I lift the side of my blankets and she climbs in, resting her head on the good side of my chest. My eyes are seriously heavy. I stroke the top of her arm and breathe in her jasmine shampoo and drift off to sleep.

• • •

Jordyn's gone when I wake up and part of me is missing. That's what it feels like.

Damon comes in carrying an IV bag. “Sleep well?”

It's only then that I realize it's morning.

I nod. “So, when can I get out of here? Not that I'm not enjoying your company.”

“That's good, 'cause you'll have it for a few more days.”

The door creaks and I expect Jordyn, but it's Kelly and Henry. Damon greets them as he squeezes by on his way out.

“How are you doing?” Kelly sits in the chair next to my bed.

“I'm ready to get out of here. I'll never be able to pay for all of this.”

“It's all taken care of.” Henry stands behind Kelly, placing his hands on the chair back.

“You can't— You really don't have to do all this, you know,” I say, my voice cracking. My eyes sting. I have to close them.

“We know.” Kelly rests her hand on my shoulder. “We want to.” She reaches up for Henry's hand.

“You should have told us how bad things were before it got so outta hand, Tyler,” Henry says to me. “We would've gladly gotten you the hell out of there.”

I stare out the window, not seeing anything in particular. I can't look at them.

And then Jordyn comes in carrying a camera? She can't be serious. Though I am glad for the interruption—things were getting a little real there.

“What? Not feeling like your beautiful self today?” She holds it up. “Smile.”

“All right.” Henry reaches out and Jordyn hands the camera over. He holds it up like he's giving a toast. “Better run. Can't keep the Bryson wedding waiting. Don't worry about anything but healing, kiddo, understand?”

I nod because there are no words.

Kelly pats my shoulder. “I should go too. Captain's probably ready for a walk.”

Before the door has even closed, Jordyn climbs into bed next to me, nuzzling her head into the crook of my neck. I kiss her forehead and lay my head back. My eyes are hot, and now my chest hurts nearly as much as my side. I'm one lucky unlucky shit.

Five days later, I'm released from the hospital.

“I'm kind of like your brother now,” I say to Jordyn as we lie on the basement couch watching the fire. Her head rests on the good side of my chest and her hair fans out across my shirt. I run my fingers through it until I find the little red strip.

“Well, you know what they say. Incest is best,” she says, reaching her hand to where a sister should never touch.

“Watch it. I'm not allowed to exert myself for another two weeks.” I curl the red hair around my first two fingers.

“Mmmm,” she moans. “Too bad.”

“Dinner's about ready,” Henry calls down to us.

“I'm going to need you to stop that or I will be extremely inappropriate at the dinner table.”

Jordyn lifts herself so she's hovering over me, then she carefully straddles and kisses me. The kiss grows deeper and deeper and my body reacts.

“You're mean,” I say against her mouth.

She laughs and then hops up, offering me a hand. “Let's go,
brother
.”

I glance down at my rather conspicuous erection. “Not. Cool.”

She laughs again and then bounds up the steps.

• • •

I'm alone at the studio with Henry, and it's a fairly busy Saturday. I don't have to work anymore—Henry and Kelly are taking care of everything—but I like it, so I keep the job. My injuries are almost completely healed. It's been about a month. Time is flying, especially now that I don't have to worry about going home to a ticking time bomb. Dad took a plea. He's still facing a minimum of ten years, though. His sentencing isn't for another few months. I might not even be here to see his disgraced face as the judge doles out what's coming to him. It all depends on when football training starts up.

“So . . . the big one-eight.” Henry grins as he dismantles one of the lighting rigs. “Jordyn's still got till June. You better watch it, or you'll be in a cell next to your dear ol' dad.” He laughs, then winces, like maybe he crossed a line.

I barely notice. My face is on fire. I know they know we have sex, but actually talking about it makes me want to die a little. Does he have conversations like this with Jordyn?

“I'm just messing with you. I know you love Jordyn like I love Jordyn.”

“I hope not, otherwise
you'll
end up in a cell next to dear old Dad.”

He laughs heartily. “Maybe it's best we change the subject.”

“Couldn't agree more.” I set the last of the equipment in the closet and shut the door.

Once the studio is in good shape, Henry and I head home. It's not even weird to think of it like that anymore—home. I fight the urge to call out “Honey, I'm home!” every time I enter the house and Jordyn's already there. Like today.

Before the door's even closed behind me, Jordyn runs up and grabs my hand. She practically pushes me down the stairs.

“What's going on?”

She lets out a sound that can only be described as a squeal and she pulls me to her room. She heads straight for her desk, where she retrieves a large envelope.

I snatch it from her hands. “You got in?” I pull out the contents to see the confirmation for myself. She got in to her dream school: Rhode Island School of Design.

“I never doubted for a minute. Especially with that weird and oddly terrifying bicycle drawing,” I say, pulling her to me. I cup her face and she leans into my hand. God, I love that. It kills me every time. I brush my lips against hers. She does the same. And then I can't control myself anymore. I grab her and we tumble to the bed. We're practically at the point when clothes start to come off when we hear a throat clearing just outside the now-open door.

We jump apart so fast I almost fall off the bed.

Kelly starts laughing. “Trust me, this is just as awkward for me as it is for you.”

I seriously doubt that.

Jordyn's face is practically glowing. I'm sure mine is a similar shade of fuchsia. I bet Kelly's also blushing, but I can't bring myself to look anywhere near her.

“I just wanted to see if you told Tyler the big news, and from all
this,
I gather you have.” She sounds like she's trying to hold back another laugh. “Anyway, I'll just . . .” She turns to leave, closing the door behind her. But just before it's closed, she stops herself and pushes it back open. “I'm, um, not sure . . . but, uh . . . I think maybe the door should stay open, though.”

I want to die.

Once Kelly's footsteps have retreated all the way back upstairs, I look at Jordyn. The second we make eye contact, we burst into laughter.

When I've managed to regain my composure, I tell Jordyn about my awkward conversation with Henry earlier.

“Twice in one day? You poor thing.” She scoots across the bed and straddles me. It has absolutely no effect, though. I can't even think about sex after that. Well, I
can,
but it's easy to keep from acting on it.

Captain comes galloping through the door and jumps up on the bed. Kelly is madly in love with him. I'll probably leave him with her when I head off to Stanford. I can't exactly have him in the dorms, and I can't afford to get an apartment. And that's when it hits me.

“Rhode Island,” I mumble, petting Captain.

Jordyn rolls over so she's using Captain like a pillow. She reaches out to brush her fingertips over my lips. “California,” she says.

“Could we have picked schools farther apart?”

“I know.” She closes her eyes. I watch her for several seconds until she opens her eyes and pops up. “Let's not dwell on it now. We have a celebration to attend,” she says, throwing her arm out. She yanks me up from the bed and pulls me upstairs. Captain follows at our heels.

Henry and Kelly are taking us to some fancy steakhouse for my birthday and to celebrate Jordyn's good news. Thankfully, Kelly doesn't bring up that she walked in on me dry-humping her daughter. When the subject of Rhode Island comes up, I try my best not to let it bring me down. Jordyn knows. She holds my hand tightly under the table.

The end of the school year is approaching fast, and the understanding that we're all about to start the rest of our lives has made even the vilest people somewhat standable.

With the Stanford stuff in play, I've agreed to take Coach up on his offer to run drills with me. And when the underclassmen start training for the new season, I train right alongside them. Thankfully Brett and most of the other seniors have decided it's beneath them.

“Hey, man,” Marcus says as I'm changing out of my practice clothes in the locker room one afternoon.

It's been a while since we've even spoken—not since the big fight that got me suspended before winter break. I didn't make much of an effort, honestly, and Sheila and Marcus are practically inseparable. Probably why he hasn't tried either.

“Hey.” I take a seat on the bench to put my shoes on.

“You're looking good out there.”

“Thanks.”

“Coach tells me you're still on track for Stanford.”

“Yep.” I stuff my things into my bag and close the locker.

I can tell from the look on Marcus's face that he's feeling as awkward as I am.

“I just wanted to say congrats, bro.” He pats me on the back sort of sideways.

“Thanks.”

“I better . . .” He trails off as he heads for the door. “See ya, man.”

I watch him go, feeling weirdly sad, like that's the last conversation we might ever have.

• • •

The old funeral suit—which almost fits perfectly again now—gets another outing when Henry books a big wedding gig. Kelly joins us because she and Henry are going to Vail for the weekend before the snow starts to melt. The venue is this old lodge in the foothills overlooking the entire city. We had a little spring snowstorm today, so everything's white, but it's still not that cold. Which is good because the bride was not about to let her wedding get moved indoors.

The best part about the wedding is that when it's over, Jordyn and I will have the house to ourselves.

She's smiling at me in that way that makes me practically lose my footing as we walk through the door. I desperately need to undo my top button or I might pass out.

When we reach her room, she unbuttons it for me. Then she slowly moves to the next. And the next. Never losing eye contact. It's so hot. Once the whole shirt is unbuttoned, she brushes her hands up my chest and pushes the shirt off my shoulders. She kisses my neck, then my shoulder, then my chest, then my stomach. Her lips are soft and hot where they brush my skin. I can feel them long after they've already moved on to the next spot. She kisses her way back up my chest while her hands unfasten my belt.

When my pants hit the floor, I take her hands and place them at her sides, and then I slide my hands up her arms, skimming her skin with the tips of my fingers. One hand comes to rest behind her neck and with the other I brush my thumb across her lips. Her eyes drift shut. I lean in and kiss her just next to her mouth. I brush my lips right beneath her ear. I kiss her neck, pushing her hair out of the way of her zipper. My lips linger on that spot under her ear that drives her crazy, and I very, very slowly unzip her dress.

Her breathing picks up.

I trace my fingertips up her back, following the line of the zipper—she's not wearing a bra and I almost forget to pace myself—and then I pull the straps down over her shoulders and the dress falls to the floor.

I sweep her onto the bed and my lips trace her jawline. She tastes like the faintest hint of salt, and the spicy scent of her perfume tricks my senses into thinking she also tastes like cloves and vanilla. I slowly kiss every inch of her neck, working my way to her mouth.

I want to screen-capture this moment and live in it forever. No retouching necessary.

When my lips finally meet hers, she moans against my mouth. It's such a turn-on that I can affect her this way.

She curls her hands in my hair and our kissing deepens. I take it all in—the arch of her back, the smoothness of her skin, the taste and urgency of her lips, the cadence of her breathing. I savor everything.

• • •

I'm drifting off to sleep, wondering what's going to happen when an entire country separates us.

“What's wrong?” she asks, her breath hot against my chest.

“I thought you were asleep.”

She shakes her head and reaches for my hand, entwining our fingers. “What's wrong?” she asks again.

“I don't know how I'm going to live without you.”

She lifts her head so she can make eye contact. “Let's not think about it yet.” She smiles, but there's a sadness in it. I pull her close and she rests her head back down on my chest.

• • •

Everything changed after that night.

The Stanford coach called me up and asked me to join the summer football camp they offer for high schoolers looking to get a leg up before applying next year. He wants me to be on top of my game by the time training starts up in August. He told Coach he's really hoping to start me. Of course I said yes. The downside, and it's a major downside, is that I'll have to leave about a week after graduation. Needless to say, Jordyn wasn't happy about it, but we agreed that it was the right thing for me to do.

Jordyn's been busy working on her mixed-media art projects. She's trying out all sorts of new techniques before she gets to her dream school.

When we
are
together, I sort of feel like she's always somewhere else. I think I probably come across that way too, like we're trying to slowly adjust to being apart while we're still together. And the thing is, and this makes me sad. . . . it feels right.

After that night I thought being away from her would be the end of my world, but I'm starting to realize there's so much more out there that I'm going to discover. Even if we try to stay together, with texting and FaceTime and everything, by the time we actually see each other in person again, we'll be different people. And maybe those two new people won't be such a perfect fit for each other. Or maybe they will. I don't know. The idea of ever falling out of love with her appeals to me about as much as being locked in a room alone with my dad.

Is it better to acknowledge what we have now and let it stay perfect in our memories? Or push it and risk it all falling apart? I don't know. I really don't. All I know is that when I see her again, I want to be happy about it.