Happenstance: A Novella Series (Part Three)

Happenstance: Part Three

By Jamie McGuire

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 by Jamie McGuire

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved.

Cover Designer: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, www.okaycreations.com

Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Please visit www.JamieMcGuire.com

Also by Jamie McGuire

Providence (Providence Trilogy: Book One)

Requiem (Providence Trilogy: Book Two)

Eden (Providence Trilogy: Book Three)

Beautiful Disaster

Walking Disaster

A Beautiful Wedding (A Beautiful Disaster Novella)

Beautiful Oblivion

Beautiful Redemption

Red Hill

Among Monsters

Happenstance: A Novella Series

Happenstance: A Novella Series (Part Two)

Happenstance: A Novella Series (Part Three)

Apolonia

For Fred LeBaron

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Go home, turn off the lights, and kill yourself.

My lids popped wide open, and my eyes danced around the dark room. Worry, fear, and panic returned as the naked white walls of the hospital room came into focus. The soft green numbers on the display on the IV pump cast an eerie glow as I recalled the events from the day before.

Paramedics carrying Weston away on a stretcher from the dugout was the most frightening moment of my life. The more frightening parts played over and over in my mind. The inhaler falling from his limp hand, sirens from the ambulance racing for the hospital—it was all crowded together in my head.

I closed my eyes, willing the awful memory and feelings away. Weston’s rhythmic breaths and the staccato beeps of his life on the monitors made the tension melt away. He was alive. Everything was going to be okay.

My body lined his, and I was hyperaware of every inch of my skin touching his that wasn’t covered by his hospital gown. He was so warm under the thick linen blanket the nurse had given us. I lay still, wrapped in the arms of the boy who loved me, my hip already complaining from being in the same position for too long.

Hints of a sunrise were already slipping through the blinds and chasing away the darkness. Weston stirred, and I silently wished the night had held on just a little longer.

Veronica Gates was reading a magazine in the overstuffed mauve recliner across the room. Along with her rectangular black-rimmed reading glasses, she was using the flashlight on her cell phone to see.

I lifted my head, which prompted her to look up.

Good morning, she whispered, nearly inaudible.

Not wanting to risk waking up Weston, the only thing I could offer was a small smile. When my head gently relaxed against Weston’s chest, his arms tightened, and he pulled in a deep breath.

Veronica managed a silent laugh, and then she moved to the wooden chair sitting closer to the bed. He used to hold his teddy bear like that. If I tried to pull it out of his arms after he’d fallen asleep, he’d tighten his grip.

She crossed her legs and intertwined her fingers, watching her son with unqualified love. He came home from the first grade, and quite matter-of-factly, he said to Peter and me, ‘I’m getting married,’ she said, imitating a seven-year-old Weston. She breathed out a laugh again, lost in the memory. Peter asked him, ‘When?’ Weston said, ‘Later,’ and then I asked him, ‘Who?’ He said, ‘Erin.’ She watched for my reaction. At the time, I thought he meant Alder, but then he made me promise never to tell you that story, and I realized I had been wrong.

My breath faltered.

That was a long time ago. I don’t think he’d mind now. She looked down at Weston and then back at me. I’m glad he meant you, Erin. I don’t think I’ve told you that.

I’m just lucky he doesn’t easily give up, I whispered.

Weston stirred again, and Veronica leaned in closer to get a better look at her son.

He groaned. Erin?

Veronica raised an eyebrow and then shot a knowing look my way.

I’m here, I said.

With his eyes still closed, he leaned down the inch or two to graze my hair with his lips. The sun brightened up the room enough to see what the shadows had hidden just ten minutes before.

Weston sighed. Good. Don’t leave.

I won’t, I said.

In that case, I’d better get you some breakfast, Veronica said, standing.

Good morning! the nurse said, her voice seeming too loud after Veronica had been so careful to whisper. I’m Amelia. How are you feeling? Her bright pink scrubs matched her mood.

Veronica watched her from the corner of the room as she gathered her purse and keys from a chair.

Amelia had a pile of shiny long braids twisted into a beautiful round bun on the top of her head, adding at least four inches of height to her petite, round frame.

Weston’s sleepy eyes blinked. Whoa, I was out.

It’s the meds, she said. I’m going to take your vitals and then wait for Dr. Shuart to call. I bet he’ll release you today. She winked and motioned for me to move.

I obeyed, scrambling from the bed.

Weston frowned. Don’t leave.

Veronica shook her head, amused. She said she’s staying, son, my goodness.

He watched me with mistrust. Whatever warmth Veronica’s story had left with me quickly vanished.

Is this your girl? Amelia asked Weston, mostly teasing.

Weston didn’t take his eyes off of me, waiting for me to answer.

I heard she’d slept half the night on that awful couch in the waiting room and the rest squished in your bed. The night nurses thought it was cute. My back would not be happy with me. No, sir, Amelia said, shaking her head at the thought.

The blood pressure machine buzzed as it inflated the cuff. Weston winced as it tightened. Amelia put a clip on his finger and seemed happy with the numbers that made zero sense to me.

All good? Veronica asked.

Amelia nodded. Like it never happened.

Veronica let out a small breath. Can he have breakfast?

Absolutely. She handed him a laminated long menu card. Just buzz me when you decide if you want the runny oatmeal or the greasy eggs.

By Weston’s expression, I could tell the choices on the card weren’t all that enticing. Amelia left the room as quickly as she’d come, prompting Veronica to slide her purse strap over her shoulder.

I’ll just pick something up for everyone. I’ll run down to Braum’s for biscuits and gravy.

Weston perked up.

I’ll go with you, I said.

No, you should stay, Weston said.

Veronica walked the few steps to peck her son’s cheek and then gripped her keys. I’ll call Dad and let him know you’re awake. Her eyes fell on me. Are you staying?

By Weston’s expression, I could see that he wanted to use the opportunity to talk alone. I glanced back at Veronica and nodded.

Be sure to call me if Dr. Shuart comes by, she said.

Of course, I said.

She walked into the hallway, looked both ways, and then turned left toward the elevators. Her voice could barely be heard as she greeted the women at the nurses’ station, and a few moments later, the elevator chimed, signaling its arrival to the floor.

I stood in the corner where I’d retreated from the nurse, watching as Weston put one wrist behind his head with an indeterminable expression on his face.

Biscuits and gravy sound really good. As if on cue, my stomach growled, and I touched my white shirt with both hands.

You stayed here all night, he said, not at all a question.

I nodded once and crossed my arms over my middle, wondering what he’d wanted to say that had to wait until his mother left.

He looked down toward his toes, lost in thought. You can lie to me. I won’t hold it against you.

What? I asked.

Deep sadness touched his eyes. I meant what I said. Even if you leave for Stillwater, love OSU, and never come back, my memories of the next few weeks won’t mean as much if you’re not in them. I don’t want you to make promises you can’t keep, Erin…but right now, I can say that I’d be okay with a lie. Just lie to me. Let’s do the prom thing, celebrate graduation like crazy people, and have the best summer of all time. We’ll just get on the roller coaster, ride, and pretend that it’s never going to end.

Still winging it?

One corner of my mouth pulled up, but his jaw tensed.

No, he said. You’ve always been the plan. It’ll always be you.

I walked over to his bedside and leaned down. Stopping just short of his lips, I searched his eyes for a promise or some sign that he could somehow see the future. His fingers gripped my arms as he pulled me the few inches to touch his mouth to mine.

One day, he might let me go but not in that moment. Eighteen, with a lifetime ahead, he was asking me to lose myself in the last scene of my childhood, to get lost somewhere in the summer of us. I had already been adrift my entire life, and what he was asking of me now was particularly frightening.

When Weston said things like that though, what I always wanted to lose was any thoughts of being found.

Babe? he whispered, searching my eyes. The beeping on the monitor picked up a bit.

Whether it was naïveté or foolish hope to think we were the kind of people who lived in that parallel universe where high school love could last, I didn’t just want to believe. I wanted to trust him even if it would only be until August.

Deal, I said.

Offering only a half smile in response, his palm settled on the back of my messy hair, and he pulled me close until his lips touched mine. His tongue slipped into my mouth—dancing with mine, slow and sweet—as he sealed the promise we’d just made, and then he pulled me onto the bed.

His nose nuzzled against my neck, and I giggled, impervious to anyone who might hear. He was holding me close, and he was relaxed, relieved, and maybe still feeling the effects of sedation.

A knock on the door made us pause, and then I turned to see Dr. Shuart standing there in a white jacket and collared plaid shirt.

And how is Mr. Gates this morning? he asked, walking in with a nurse. I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re just fine.

My cheeks flushed red, and once again, I shrank back to the chair in the corner. Weston wasn’t fazed. He had a smug grin on his face.

This is Dacia, Dr. Shuart said, just slightly turning his shoulder in her direction.

Dacia nodded to me and smiled a greeting to Weston. Then, she went back to scrawling on the paper in the open binder she held. "Weston is our last patient, Doctor. You have ten minutes to get