Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

48. Declan

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

declan

I don’t know when things shifted. Maybe when she was hyperventilating and I mentally convinced myself that Wyatt was dead, but I held her and she calmed down, and I just wanted to lean down and kiss her. I wanted to hold her. I’m stupid and never learn my lesson, so I keep my hand on her back until we reach Wyatt’s room.

Our closeness doesn’t last long. She’s out of my reach the second we round the curtain and see him lying there, all tied up to machines. But those brown eyes find us, and he manages to crack a smile.

My heart breaks in a way that I've never known possible.

Ever seen your friend tied up to a bunch of machines in a hospital? Ever seen him smile at you after learning that he was sad enough to feel like he’d rather not be alive anymore? It’s a perplexing feeling.

Penny flies across the room. She throws herself into the chair next to him, pulling him into her arms. Wyatt weakly winds his arms around her, lowering his head to her collarbone. Like a boy would his mom. Like that little spot between her shoulder and her neck has been his safe space for years.

Penny kisses his head repeatedly, and with each shaky breath that leaves her, Wyatt slowly starts to lose his composure. That smile on his face trembles until he breaks. He starts to sob the same two words over and over.

“I’m sorry. ”

I turn abruptly, facing the wall, and bring my hand to my face to try and smother the emotional tidal wave that smacks into me. The tears start the second he can’t see my face, and I can’t grab the reins on them now that they have. As much as I want to stop for his benefit, seeing him in one piece has the reverse effect than I thought it would. My worry dissipates into a relief so powerful that it overwhelms me.

I shut my eyes like it’ll stop me from hearing him beg for forgiveness repeatedly when he hasn’t done a single thing wrong.

A hand slides through mine. Fingers squeezing once, twice, and a third time. I meet Avery’s dark eyes. She smiles a tender, broken smile and leans forward to snuggle against my arm.

It’s all going to be okay now.

EJ stands at the foot of Wyatt’s bed, hands braced on the footboard. His head hangs low as Wyatt’s voice breaks through the tense silence in the room. It’s those same words, over and over. A knife in our chests, being sliced through our skin in a loop.

Nobody seems to know what to do or say to make this better for him.

Tiffany moves in from the doorway and goes straight to EJ’s side. He’s struggling to take a full breath now, shoulders trembling, and despite none of us knowing what to do to make everything okay again—we do know friendship.

Tiffany places her hand on EJ’s lower back, just a gentle touch. The gesture gives Lauren a gust of bravery. She finally pulls herself around the small curtain and finds the courage to face another hospital bed with another person she loves in it. She flanks EJ’s other side and rests her hand on top of his. Her thumb brushes his knuckles.

Wyatt is still groaning that he’s sorry.

And I can’t fucking do this.

Seth is rigid by Wyatt’s bedside. With his arms crossed in front of his chest, he watches Penny comfort Wyatt. He’s a ticking time bomb, which might throw you off since he’s the tame one in our crew. The level-headed one. But Seth doesn’t handle emotional stress well. It’s why he rarely fights with anyone, including Avery. He just can’t do it.

Sometimes, after worry seeps away, when you’re certain that the person you care about is okay, worry can quickly turn to anger. An outlet more than a genuine feeling, really.

That change is brewing in Seth’s eyes, and I am not sure any of us can afford that right now.

“Shh,” Penny whispers, stroking Wyatt’s hair. “We love you. We love you so much, Wy. We’re here.”

My heart seizes to the point of pain.

I squeeze Avery’s hand to try and ground myself and she nods against my arm to show that she understands.

It’s hard to watch.

I don’t like seeing Wyatt like this. Knowing what he did, what he must have been feeling to do what he did. I can’t explain that grief as a friend. But watching Penny console him, watching her calm him down in seconds, it’s no wonder why I fell in love with her.

She cups his face, wiping his tears with her thumbs. She doesn’t bother with her own, she just smiles at him. It’s all warmth and all pain.

“You’re okay. ”

He shakes his head in her grip. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “It’s okay. We’re here now. You’re not alone.”

A deep, horrible sob explodes from EJ.

Seth tenses up, ripped from his stoic trance. His shoulders jump to his ears.

Wyatt turns his head in Penny’s hands, and Penny slowly drops them from his face. Those dark brown eyes that we all love scan the room, as if now only realizing that the rest of us are here.

He looks to the end of his bed. To his boy, since day one. His mouth tips up into a sad smile, like he wants to make a joke about this just to make EJ laugh.

We’re all family, but that’s Wyatt’s number one at the end of that bed. EJ and Wyatt are like Seth and I; their relationship is just a bit different than their relationships with the rest of us.

Wyatt reaches over his bedsheets and outstretches his hand toward EJ as far as he can.

Tiffany crumbles then, winding her arms around EJ’s middle and burying her face in the back of his shirt.

EJ nearly lunges across the bed to take that hand.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Wy?” Seth finally asks. It doesn’t sound angry, just defeated, and it’s the wrong question, but one we’re all thinking.

“Seth,” Avery hisses.

Wyatt’s gaze flickers to him. He’s still completely intertwined with both Penny and EJ, but he does not shy away from the question.

“I just wanted to stop thinking,” he admits in a whisper.

Seth swallows. He didn’t like that response. Not sure what he was expecting, but he’s asking questions that don’t have a black and white answer.

Wyatt tries to smile again, but it’s futile.

Seth shakes his head and barrels forward. He collapses on the side of the bed, reaching for Wyatt’s shoulders. It’s a hesitant touch at first, as if he needs to confirm that Wyatt is actually here, that he’s still breathing. Then, he’s yanking Wyatt to his chest.

Wyatt lets out a pained chuckle. He gently pats Seth’s back with the hand that EJ isn’t holding and lets Penny find her seat beside the bed again.

Yeah, this is real. We didn’t lose him.

Seth starts to cry. These big, heavy sobs. Sobs of relief, I think. Relief and confusion.

And it kills me.

I love my friends. I pride myself on knowing them inside and out, like a brother would. I missed this. I missed one of the most important things that I could have. One of the things that I always swore was unmissable. Wyatt was sad. He was hurting, and I missed it.

I let go of Avery’s hand and join the boys. They need me as much as I need them right now, and I’ll be damned if I waste another second of this fragile moment avoiding Wyatt rather than reminding him how much I love him.

I place my hand on the back of Wyatt’s head, swallowing the lump in my throat. He’s trembling. Violent, terrified shakes. Seth’s clinging to him for dear life, those cries still pouring from his chest. I rest my other hand in the middle of Seth’s back.

And then EJ saddles up to my side, completing our circle, not daring to let go of Wyatt’s warm palm.

I wish I could fix this. I wish there was a magic button to undo it. I wish that I had become a doctor rather than an athlete. I’d trade it all to heal Wyatt’s heart and his mind, to make him feel better. I’d give up every dollar and every ounce of fame to make him happy. It kills me that he isn’t, that he hasn’t been.

I kiss the top of Wyatt’s head. The silence is heavy, loaded, and riddled with pain. We cry. We cling to each other, wondering how the hell we got here. Things were much easier when we were twenty, reckless, and selfish. Life got hard at some point. For all of us. I just don’t know when.

I look across the bed to where Penny sits, tear-filled eyes glued to mine.

She doesn’t look away. She says nothing. Unsaid things seep into the silence. Her lips pull back into the saddest smile I’ve ever seen, and then she does the last thing that I expect her to do.

She reaches for me.

She watches me carefully, petrified on how I’ll take this gesture.

I reach back, over Wyatt’s head, and take her fingers in mine. We squeeze each other’s hand for a few seconds, not forgiving each other, but knowing that this, right here, means more than anything else.

It means everything.

If she keeps reaching for me, I’ll keep reaching back.