Recklessly (41 page)

“Did Jase get all that?” he asked Paul when he returned to where he’d been earlier. “I want to see what it looked like. Where’d he go?”

“He needed to switch out memory cards. He was filming Chris and Abe, too.”

When he jogged over to Jase, Wes pulled his new cell phone out of his bag, a recent ritual and test of will on his part, wanting to text Lana and ask how she was, but every day he didn’t. He missed her no less than before; he wasn’t angry anymore, which was good, but he was just sad. The truth was, he wasn’t really ready to let her go for good and he wasn’t resolute about being apart forever—even though he hadn’t told her that outright.

“Hey, dude, did you get my barrels?” Wes said to Jase.

“Yeah! You did some crazy shit in that second one.” Jase passed him the camera to review the footage.

“Wes! Hey, Wes!” A concerned Paul jogged up next to him, breathless.

“What?” Wes raised his eyebrows.

His expression darkened. “Um… Abel just did a trick and he didn’t come back up…”

“What?” The surge of blood flow hit Wes so hard, he got dizzy.

“Christian took the—”

“Abel’s under?”
Fuck. His shoulder. His shoulder.
Wes threw his phone, grabbed his board and paddled out into the water as quickly as he could, spotting Christian in the water near a Jet Ski and dodging the sweeping waves. Adrenaline rushed in, but Wes still had to push past his fatigue to get out there.

“I got him!” Christian screamed by the time Wes reached his side. He was in the water, bearhugging Abel’s limp body from the back. Wes gulped down hard as he took in his brother’s appearance, bloody and unconscious
Fuck
.

“Get back on the Jet Ski…” Wes yelled as he took control of Abel. Christian was shaking as he climbed on, and Wes started to pass Abel to Christian, but a wrecking ball of water tumbled over them, and Abel slipped just out of reach. Wes dove down and grabbed hold of him around the torso, laid him on his surfboard and heaved him toward the shore. Paul and Jase thrashed out into the water and yanked the board to the sand with Abel on it.

Abel’s arm flopped off the side when they set it down and his pale blue eyes were open but inhumanly still. Abel’s face was battered in a way Wes had never seen before as he got on his knees alongside his brother. His lips, slightly parted, were a grotesque shade of purple, and the skin of his cheek had been shredded. Three of his fingers were twisted at awkward angles.

“Can somebody call 911?” Wes said. The beach crowd had grown over the hours and people were starting to wander over.

“He’s not breathing…” Jase said, panic holding his tone.

“What the fuck happened?” a desperate Wes asked Christian once he rode to shore.

Christian shook his head. “He came out of the trick wrong, from what I could see. He hit the water really hard.” Christian was still shaking. “I think his board might’ve landed on him, too. Hey, Wes, you shouldn’t watch this, man.” And he dropped a hand on Wes’ shoulder.

Wes nodded as he turned his head to his friend but he wasn’t leaving Abel’s side. He took in several soothing breaths; it would be okay. They had lost count of how many times the two of them had wiped out or almost drowned or slammed into rocks when they were younger. Even now, while getting hurt happened less, it still happened. No amount of ego or skill could compete with Mother Nature, so they got used to taking the occasional beating. But this was Sherman beach. People more experienced than they were had died here.
No, no thinking about dying. Abel will be fine.

“Breathe, Abel,” Wes demanded as Paul depressed his chest, and he cringed at the soft cracking sounds accompanying the movement. Paul was grunting as he forced Abel’s chest down. Poor kid. “Come on, asshole, breathe! What, you want me to say it? I need you, Abel. Please. I need you, you loser.”

Wes kept watching his brother’s mouth, watching and waiting for a gurgle or regurgitation of water. But there was nothing. “Can one of you please shut his eyes? Please?” They were ghastly when they didn’t move. Only the dead didn’t blink. At least with his lids shut, he just looked like he was sleeping. “Wake up, Abel, come on.” Did he need to call his parents yet?
No, only if…
Wes stood but he doubled over, digging his nails into his own knees.

This was his fault. As with his agreement to the nonstop partying and the wave machine, Abel was out here because he loved him, because he was trying to help him, because he was worried about him, and because
he—Wes—
had insisted on coming to
this
beach today. His dealing with his pain through excessive partying and thrill seeking had landed him here.

Now Abel was dead.

No fucking way.
Wes snapped his head up. “I don’t want anybody to see him like this. I don’t want…where the fuck is the ambulance?”

“I don’t know why…it’s not coming back up…” Paul said, nearly out of breath as he drove harder against Abel’s chest.

“Don’t, Paul. Don’t,” Wes said, his voice breaking as he pointed at him. “Don’t…just keep trying. Please.” But Abel’s recovery didn’t look promising, and paralyzing fear and confusion were tearing at Wes’ insides. Abel was dead. His best friend. His blood. The person he had started life off with was gone.
No. No. No.

“Wes…I don’t know…” Paul was still ramming Abel’s chest down but his tone had lost the luster from before. “It’s not…”

Wes grabbed his own head and dropped hard to his knees in the sand. “No, no, no…” His whispers grew louder, until his screams were punching out of him. “NO! NO! NO! Abel! Get up! Wake him up!”

Paul looked weary and winded, and the motions of his palms against Abel’s chest were slowing down. “Wes, I tried…I really, really tried…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m really sorry. I don’t think…”

Wes pointed weakly in the direction of his brother, falling against Jase in his desperation. “You fuckin’ know him. He’s your friend! Come on, Paul. Dude, it’s my brother. It’s my fuckin’ brother! My… You can’t… You can’t…” His legs went weak beneath him and Jase struggled to keep him upright. He would never, ever forgive himself for this. Never. “No…Please, no! Paul, please, no. ”

Christian pushed Paul aside. “You’re tired. Let me try. We don’t fucking quit on each other out here.” Christian brushed his arms across his eyes for a beat then began the forceful presses on Abel.

“Chris…” Wes pleaded in a whisper but he didn’t fight against Jase’s restraint. “It’s my brother, man. My…he’s all I have. Please.” Christian nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. Next to him, Paul was on all fours, head hanging, bawling without an ounce of control.

“I’m not going to let him die, bro...” Christian promised weakly.

Die. Died. Dead.
He would have to start speaking about Abel in the past tense.
My brother died. I had a brother.
“I can’t… I can’t…” Wes staggered backwards as Jase released him. His chest squeezed and he choked on spittle, like his own lifeline had been cut. Like he had felt the exact moment of Abel’s demise. The world swung in one direction and then another as someone called his name. “I can’t… I can’t breathe.” He saw the sky. And then he saw black.

*

Abel was dead.

Wes awoke, gasping and thrashing, trying to orient himself through blurry eyes as he sat up. But even without clear vision at the moment, the steady beeping of the machine to his left immediately indicated that he was in a hospital.

“Wes?”
Lana.
He turned to her voice, an ache in his neck making him wince. But it was Charlotte sitting in a chair against the wall.

“Abel. Where’s my brother? Is he—”

“He’s fine. A little bruised up. A lot bruised up. Broken fingers. Broken other stuff. They revived him right after you passed out. He’s just tired. But he’s fine. Mostly. He woke up a few hours ago…” But Charlotte’s eyes glazed over with tears as she approached his bed, and she punched him on the shoulder when she reached him.

“Okay. Ow! Abel is really okay?”

“I swear. All your friends are here. I asked them if I could sit with you alone. You were kinda in and out. Someone called your parents.” Charlotte smacked him on the chest, her tears streaming down her face. “Are you stupid? Are you? Severe dehydration, Wes? Severe dehydration? What is wrong with you? What the hell have you been doing to yourself? Seriously, I could kill you.” There were lines of tubes shoved into his arm, pumping him with fluids that apparently weren’t Lava Energy Drinks.

Wes pulled her against him for a hug. She was squeezing harder than he was; he was so tired still. “I’m okay, Char. I guess I’ve just been overdoing it,” he said as he laid back. “And you look…you look good. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. Please don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Hi, Pot, I’m Kettle.”

Charlotte laughed a little as she pulled away from him, and Wes smiled at her. “I don’t even have the words for how sorry I am about everything. I have so much to tell you, but I only asked for a couple hours of emergency leave, which you slept through most of. I figured you could use some good news.”

“Emergency leave? From where?” Wes scooted over and patted the bed for her to join him.

“Rehab.”

“Rehab?” Wes shut his eyes for a moment, the lure of sleep tempting him. “I’m so proud of you, Char.”

“It was all Lana,” she said.

The sound of her name was enough to override his fatigue for the moment, and he opened his eyes. “Lana? She’s here?”

“No. She’s on the East Coast with her brother. She initially didn’t even want me to tell you she’s the one who got me in. I guess shortly after the last time she saw you, she tracked me down. Sloane helped her out by getting Brody to admit he knew where I was. To Brody’s credit, he wasn’t the one who introduced me to Keith or drugs—that was all Keith—and Brody really wasn’t hanging out anymore with the crowd I got mixed up in, but he knew
I
was. To think I did all of this just to be a little rebellious and spite you guys for being annoying. So stupid.

Anyway, apparently, all Sloane had to do was go on and on about how much she hated you after talking to him for a few minutes while having a few drinks, and he was happy to tell her how he got one over on you. Sloane felt terrible for the way she treated Lana at the trade show party, but I think she thought you looked happy with her Lana came to where I was, pleaded with me for days—she told me you guys were worried about me and you weren’t angry with me—and we went to the rehab place several times before I checked in. My parents didn’t even know right away.”

“They found out when you used your insurance?”

“Only because Lana could only afford the first week. She sold her bike, Wes. She actually sold it to help me. It covered about ten grand, and she stayed with me through the admissions process.”

“Wow,” he mumbled. “And she didn’t want you to tell me?”

“Not right away. She didn’t want you to think she did it to get you back. I know you guys are broken up and giving each other space, but she was doing just as terribly as you are. Anyway, I’ve been keeping in contact with Sloane now that I have phone privileges, but she actually came to the center and had them call my parents to verify the emergency so I could leave without penalty. I guess one of the guys called Sloane? She was supposed to give you this after you got back from Bali. It’s from Lana.” He reopened his eyes when she stroked his face and touched the softest breath of a kiss to his cheek. “Get better soon, okay?”

When he awoke again (courtesy of some cruel nurse insisting that he eat even crueler hospital food), Charlotte was gone, and he thought for a moment he had dreamed the whole thing, but the letter was on the table. After a few days, when he was feeling better, he went to see Abel.

Abel was in bed, hooked up to a few machines himself, and he explained that his blood oxygen level was almost back to normal. Even though time had seemed to pass forever, Abel hadn’t been unconscious very long.

“Well, it looks like Bali’s out…” Abel said.

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Wes said, after he hugged his brother.

Abel shook his head. “This twin shit is creepy sometimes, man. We both, like, died on the beach at the same time…”

“Well, I think only
you
died.”

“Oh, right, you only
fainted
. Once again, Abel Elliott outdoes the spare child.”

“
Passed out
, bitch…” Wes said with a smirk. “But seriously, man, I’m so sorry. I dragged you into my mess.”

“Yeah, I heard
your mess
saved our cousin.”

“Yeah and Charlotte gave me this before she left. It’s from Lana.” He showed his brother the large envelope and he was incredibly anxious to read it. “She’s on the East Coast with her brother.”

“She’s gone for good?”

“I don’t know, and maybe right now, it’s for the best, you know? Can’t wait for Mickey to spin this into a good reason for why I can’t compete in Bali…”

“Yeah. You gonna get over her, you think?”

“Doubt it. I miss her. Sometimes the bad is never bad enough to make you forget the good. I say that and it makes me think of mom and dad.”

“Oh, please, there’s
no
good there.”

“Right. I know. But I think of them because they never do anything about the pain. The good with Lana gives me hope about what could happen with us someday. With mom and dad, sometimes you just can’t. But the point is you recognize the hurt and you
do
something about it, either way. You acknowledge it, you deal with it, and maybe you can move past it, if there’s good worth fighting for, you know? And you make sure not to repeat it. With Erin, her explanation shouldn’t have just let me excuse everything. She hurt me, regardless of what her letter might’ve said. I can let go of it, but it doesn’t make what she did something I just have to accept. And that’s what I was doing. But I figured it out with Lana. I need to really deal with my pain and go from there. The fact that I almost lost you today over suppressing my pain… We never learned how to
really
deal with it from mom and dad.”