Page 15 of Trustfall
“Just know I’m here if and when you want to talk.” She leaned her head on my shoulder as her tears returned. “Sometimes, the scariest part of opening up is the feeling that we are going to be judged, and I promise you, that won’t happen, not with me, not ever.”
I held out my pinky finger, hoping she’d understand.
“Thank you.” She exhaled, lifting her hand to seal our pinky promise to one another.
“Are you sleeping?”
“Not really.” She shrugged, stifling a yawn.
Sleep deprivation was a beast and would only exaggerate the problem, I knew from personal experience.
“Are you on shift tomorrow?”
“Yes, eight a.m.”
“Let’s try and get some sleep then.”
We’d had countless sleepovers, both as children and adults, since she returned, so I knew exactly where to find a spare T-shirt and a pair of shorts from in her dresser before slipping under the covers. Typically, I would sleep on the couch in the living room; however, whenever either of us was upset, it was an unspoken rule that we would stay together.
As she lay on her side, I stared into the darkness above me, inhaling the soothing scent of eucalyptus from the diffuser on her bedside table. I found myself torn between worrying about how to better support Lily and my desperate need for sleep. It had been a long day, and knowing I had to head out early to make it back to Sutton River for my shift didn’t help matterssince thinking of ways that I could help her took priority over sleep.
Outside, the noise from the bustling city traffic had since died down, leaving her bedroom relatively quiet until I heard the faint sound of her tears. I turned onto my side and gently rubbed her back—a comforting gesture she often offered me when I was upset. It helped settle my mind when my thoughts were swirling like a violent storm. I just hoped it had the same calming effect on her in return.
Chapter Six
Arizona
Ihad always believed I functioned well under pressure, even when exhausted, thanks partly to copious amounts of caffeine. However, what I was currently experiencing was in a league of its own.
Little did I know when I fell asleep at Lily’s that my world was about to be rocked to its core. Captain Fisher, Jameson’s father, called shortly after midnight to inform me that there had been a fire in the greenhouse and that my dad was being transferred to Rockwood’s trauma center for smoke inhalation.
The wave of nausea that brought my world crashing down was unforgiving, as was the feeling of being a terrible friend since I couldn’t be in two places at once. I knew Lily understood, but that didn’t erase the guilt I felt. All my irrational fears hit me hard as the tables turned, and now she was the one supporting me in my time of need. She drove me to the hospital and sat quietly by my side while the doctors assessed my dad.
He was all I had left of my family, and the mere thought of nearly losing him brought me to my knees every time I spiraled through the endless cycle of “what-ifs.”
Staring down at his hand in mine, I gently traced my thumb over his knuckles, losing myself in connecting the dots formedby the freckles scattered across the top of his hand. The callouses on his hands were a visual sign of years of hard work outdoors. There was no harder worker than my dad. He’d worked on the land my entire life, and the greenhouse was our lifeline, a tribute of sorts to keeping the memory of my mom and her dream alive. I had zero idea of its state, as I could only handle one thing at a time.
It had been twenty-one years since I walked out of this hospital holding just my dad’s hand. “I can’t walk out of here alone, Dad; I can’t do it. Please,” I squeezed my eyes closed, “please don’t leave me.”
Time was cruel, a thief, yet, in the very next breath, it had the power to be everything we held dear to our hearts. It was sacred, as were the memories we honored and clutched to like a lifeline, helping us put one foot in front of the other and move forward.
With my lips tucked between my teeth, I bit back the tears I desperately needed to unleash, yet refused to do so until I was alone because of a vow I’d made to be strong for him. He had carried me through the darkest times, and now it was my turn to be his source of strength. Logically, I understood that he would recover with continued rest, oxygen, and IV fluids, but my medical knowledge didn’t ease the weight of my worries.
A soft knock drew my gaze to the hallway, and the man leaning on the doorjamb was the last person I’d expected to see. Tall and imposing, to the point he had mastered the art of sucking all the air out of the room whenever he entered. He was a source of frustration and the last person I wanted to see me vulnerable. Yet, as we quietly assessed one another, Jameson surprisingly turned out to be the only person who grasped what I needed at that moment.
A free pass.
A friend to lean on.
He closed the distance until all that separated us was the width of the bed. I dropped my chin and fought against the lump in my throat that had been gnawing at me like a ticking time bomb, suffocating what remaining breath I had left.
“Arizona.”
My name a ghosted whisper soft across his lips, yet I couldn’t move. I was frozen on the spot with the walls closing in around me, swallowing me up faster than quicksand as all my rational reasoning evaporated.
“Ari.” Jameson’s voice was pleading as he clasped his thumb and forefinger over the edge of my jaw and tilted my chin upward. “Breathe.”
Was it a simple suggestion or a request?
