Shine - Lauren Myracle [102]
Not this time.
I ran and just about threw myself at him before remembering his still-healing body. I hugged him, carefully at first, and then tighter. I hugged him like there was no tomorrow. Except there was. Tomorrows and tomorrows and tomorrows, and who knew what was in store for any of us? What I did know—maybe all I knew—is that we got to play a role in deciding.
I pulled away. A smile shone on his face, and I smiled back.
Then my gut clenched as I thought about the flip side of endless tomorrows. The nurses would come running in soon, and they would call Sheriff Doyle. Sheriff Doyle would drive to the hospital. Maybe not right away, but soon, and he’d ask Patrick the hard questions.
Gently, I hip-bumped Patrick to make room for myself on the narrow bed. It was so familiar being with him, and so easy, that I couldn’t believe I’d punished myself by staying away from him for so long.
I took his hands. His monitors were singing a glad song, which told me the nurses and probably Dr. Granville would be bustling in any minute. We didn’t have much time.
“Beef’s dead,” I told him, because there was no other way.
Patrick’s smile fell away. “What?”
“He’s dead. Beef’s dead.” I’d have the chance to go deeper later, but right now my job was to lay out the bare bones of the story, because Patrick had a decision to make, even if he didn’t yet know it.
I stumbled over the words: Robert, Suicide Rock, my brother. The gun. Patrick’s confusion turned to shock, then anguish, and then to a bottomless sorrow. I went there with him, and I willed his grief to flow into me, so that I could bear it on his behalf.
From the hall came the sound of footsteps and excited voices. I glanced anxiously at Jason, who rose and went to the door. Hopefully, he could buy us some time.
“They’re going to ask you what happened at the Come ‘n’ Go,” I said to Patrick in a low voice. “They’re going to ask you to tell them who hurt you.”
Patrick furrowed his brow. “They don’t know?”
I bit my lip, feeling horrible about telling Patrick that Sheriff Doyle and Deputy Doyle hadn’t gotten anywhere with their investigation. I felt as if Black Creek had let him down.
“Well, they’ve been looking into leads and everything,” I said. “They’ve been trying real hard. They just . . .”
Ah, screw it, I thought. Anyway, only some people in Black Creek had let him down. Not everyone.
“They’re saying it was a truckful of out-of-towners,” I told him. “They’re probably ready to close the case, unless you tell them otherwise.”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t out to sway him one way or another, and I hoped he knew that. I hoped, too, that he knew that Beef had loved him, just as he had loved Beef. I was sure this was true of the Beef I knew and loved, the Beef before everything went bad.
“A truckful of out-of-towners,” Patrick repeated. He stared at his hospital sheet. When he looked back up at me, his eyes were a full shade darker. “That sounds about right. Too bad I can’t remember a dang thing.”
The nurses broke past Jason and descended on Patrick like cooing doves. Kelly, the nice one, pulled at me and said, “I need you to move back now, sweetie. This boy of ours has gone through a lot.”
I squeezed Patrick’s hands, unable to let go. Kelly had to pluck at me to get me off him.
“Hey,” she said when she saw that I was crying. Patrick was crying, too, and from behind me came a loud sniffle that Jason tried unconvincingly to turn into a cough.
“Hey,” Kelly said again. “This is a happy day. My goodness. And Patrick’s going to be just fine.” She placed her hand lightly on his head. “We’re just glad he’s back with the living, aren’t we, kids?”
The barest breeze moved through the half-cracked window, making Mama Sweetie’s wind chimes sing their silvery tune. It felt like a miracle, and maybe it was—or maybe it was just a breezy summer day.
“Yeah,” I said, only my throat was so clogged with tears that I sounded like a frog. I laughed in a sobbing sort of way. “Welcome back, Patrick.”
EPICALLY LONG ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Where the heck to start? I wake up every