45. Ella

45

ELLA

I can’t deny it, having Mom here in Seattle with me helped. As much as I hated having her eyes on me almost 24/7, I needed it.

Letty and Peyton might know about my struggles in the past, but they don’t know what signs to look for when I’m slipping. Mom, though, knows everything.

“Come on, Ella. We’re hitting up the cafe,” Mom says after knocking on Colt’s door and poking her head inside.

“But they’ve already started reducing his sedation,” I argue.

“I know, sweetheart. But they also said it could be days before you see any evidence of him waking up. Days in which you need to eat,” she says sternly.

“She’s right,” West agrees. “In fact,” he says pushing to his feet. “I’ll come.”

“But Colt?” I ask in horror. “We can’t leave?—”

The door opens behind Mom and Luca and Kane join us.

“Afternoon,” Luca greets. “Anything yet?”

West shakes his head. “Fucker is going to make us wait, that’s for sure.”

Mom gives West a stern glare but doesn’t say anything about his language. She gave up after spending a few hours with the guys when she first got here. I think she’s learned that her energy is best spent elsewhere.

“Wouldn’t expect anything else,” Kane says, claiming my seat while Luca takes West’s.

“Bring us back coffee, yeah?” Luca asks.

“Of course,” Mom agrees, looking between the two of them as if they’re her own.

I guess, in a way, they are. We’re all family now.

As much as I hate this whole situation, having Mom here and finally letting her experience how amazing my friends are has proved her right about me staying here.

She treats each one of my friends as if they’re as important to her as me or Benny, and I love her so much for it.

I glance between Luca and Kane. Happy that my man is going to be well looked after in my absence. I kiss his cheek, squeeze his hand, whisper that I love him and then follow Mom and West out of the room.

We find security at the end of the hallway, and they fall into step behind us.

It’s bizarre to think we need protection in a hospital, but after experiencing the craziness of the paparazzi and the fans outside, I understand.

The second we emerge from the elevator, eyes turn our way.

More than a few people rush toward us, but our security guards are nothing if not professional and they easily step between us, protecting us and stopping us from having to go through the rigmarole of being questioned.

The fans might have been contained outside of the building, but there are still plenty of patients and family members who are able to get closer.

Most of them only do it out of love and concern. I get it, I really do. But also, I barely have the energy to walk right now; I don’t have it in me to repeat Colt’s condition and accept their best wishes over and over.

I’m sure there are more than a few journalists out there who will try and spin it that I don’t care, but right now, they can have all the opinions they want.

They’re right. I don’t care. Not about what bullshit they write, anyway.

“I’ll catch up with you in a moment,” West says, his eyes focused on a couple of kids waiting around by reception. One of them is in a wheelchair while a woman—I assume their mother—frantically talks into her cell.

My steps falter as I watch him march over. The second the kids see him, their eyes light up as if Santa Claus has come to visit.

West speaks to the boy in the wheelchair first. He bounces excitedly as he stares up at West.

My heart damn near explodes.

“He’s a good man,” Mom muses, watching right along with me.

“They all are.”

Pulling a Sharpie from his back pocket, West kneels on the floor and quickly scrawls his autograph on the boy’s cast.

He signs something for all of them while their mom is still distracted.

After a few more words and a wave, West backs away.

It’s not until he’s almost back with us that their mom turns around.

She looks stressed as hell, but she quickly forgets whatever is happening when her kids start excitedly explaining what she missed before pointing over here.

She looks up, and the second she sees West, she bursts into tears.

“Whoops,” West says, cringing.“It seems I have a talent for making women cry recently.”

“That was a beautiful thing to do,” Mom says, squeezing West’s forearm as the woman mouths “thank you,” and presses her hand over her heart.

“Such a softie,” I tease, linking my arm with his as we close in on the cafe.

Honestly, the thought of eating turns my stomach, but with Mom watching me like a hawk, I know I’m not going to get away with refusing anything.

West orders more food than I’d be able to eat in an entire day before Mom orders us a huge slice of chocolate cake each.

She glances back at me after placing the order, daring me to argue with her.

I want to, but I don’t.

We sit in the back corner with our security guards standing off to the side, keeping watch.

“You’d better eat that before West sets his sights on it,” Mom teases, pointing at my slice of cake with her fork.

“Yeah,” I muse, staring down at it as if it’s going to jump up and bite me.

“What’s wrong, El? It looks amazing,” West says before taking a massive bite of his panini.

“N-nothing,” I stutter, watching him eat as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. We both know that’s not true, but it doesn’t make any of this any easier.

Lifting my fork, I cut off a slice before lifting it to my lips.

The sponge and filling melt on my tongue. I’m sure to anyone else it would taste amazing, but I may as well be eating sand.

“So good, right?” Mom asks, trying in her own way to tell me that it’s okay to eat it. To indulge. But there isn’t anything she could say that would make me feel any better about this.

“Yeah,” I agree as enthusiastically as I can.

I force myself to eat almost half of it before I admit defeat and offer what’s left to West, who, unsurprisingly, takes it from me with very little argument.

“Do you ever stop?” Mom laughs as he finishes it off.

“A machine in this condition needs plenty of fuel, Angie,” he says, winking at Mom.

“You’re just like my Benny,” Mom says fondly.

“Yeah, they’re on the same level mentally,” I deadpan before pushing my chair out. “Excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“I’ll come with you, sweetheart,” Mom says, rushing to join me.

“It’s okay. I’m not?—”

“Shush now, Ella. West will be okay here on his own, won’t you, love?”

“It’ll be a challenge, but I think I’ve got it.” West winks.

“Dude, stop flirting with my mom,” I chastise, making him throw his head back laughing and mom’s cheeks to blaze red. “Seriously?”

I shake my head, fighting my own smile. It’s weird to laugh and joke after the past few days of nothing but tears and heartache. I guess there is only so much one person can take before they’re forced to see the joy in something.

“You don’t need to do this,” I say quietly as Mom holds the bathroom door open for me to follow her inside.

She smiles at me, trying to force her concern for my mental state away. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” she lies.

“Sure you don’t,” I mutter, locking myself inside a stall.

I stare down at the toilet, my stomach rolling.

Sucking in a deep breath, I try to tell myself that it’s okay. It was just a little bit of cake. It won’t do me any harm.

If only I could hear my own words.

Forcing myself to make the most of my visit, I do my business, and I’m drying my hands when my cell begins ringing.

I pull it free to see Kane’s name on my screen.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, rushing to answer and put it to my ear.

“What is it?” Mom asks, her eyes wide.

“His hand moved,” Kane blurts the second the call connects.

A sob erupts from my throat. “We’re coming. We’re coming,” I cry before rushing out of the door and immediately colliding with West, who’s on the other side with his own cell to his ear.

“Luca says?—”

“His hand moved,” I finish for him before we take off toward the elevators.

“Anything else?” West barks into his cell. “Fuck. This is the slowest fucking elevator in the world.”

We stand there watching the floors count down. But he’s right. It’s not fast enough.

We need to be there.

We both promised him that we’d be there when he wakes up.

I press my hand to my stomach as acid burns up my throat.

If I’m not there, then…

“Fuck this. I’m taking the stairs. You coming?”

I glance behind him to the door that hides the stairs.

I’ll never make it.

I’ll die halfway up.

“I can’t, West. He’s on flo?—"

“I’ll meet you up there. We’ll be there, El. We’ll fucking be there.”

He’s gone in a flash, and it’s his sudden absence that breaks my resolve.

“Oh, sweetheart. This is good news. He’s coming back to you.”

Mom’s arm wraps around me and she holds me tight as the seconds tick by slower than ever.

It feels like a week passes by the time the doors slide open and a small group of people spill out.

“Come on. Your man needs you.”

I rush inside and slam my hand down on the button.

My entire body trembles with a mixture of hope, fear, and anticipation.

The doctors and nurses have explained what to expect when he comes around. He’s probably going to be confused and disorientated, and he may only wake for seconds at a time. But I don’t care. He’ll be waking up—that’s all that matters.

Come back to me, Colt.

I need you.

The elevator dings, announcing our arrival, and the moment the doors part, I rush out, colliding with West for the second time in ten minutes.

“Shit, Ella,” he cries, barely catching himself and stopping us from tumbling to the ground.

He’s hot and sweaty and his chest is heaving from his run up the stairs, but he’s here.

Hand in hand, we race to Colt’s room.

My head is full of hopeful images of him opening his eyes, of being able to tell him that I love him and know that he can hear me.

“He’s going to be okay,” West says. I have no idea if he’s reassuring him or me, but I appreciate the words nonetheless.

We crash through the door to his room, and Luca and Kane jump to their feet in shock.

“Is everything okay?” Luca asks, looking between us with wide eyes.

“Y-you said that—" West starts but is unable to finish because he’s so out of breath.

“He moved?”

“Yeah, come and hold his hand. I think he can hear us,” Kane says, moving from my seat.

I rush over and take Colt’s hand in both of mine.

“Colt, baby. I’m right there. West too. Can you hear me?” I want to be strong. I want him to hear that I’m coping, that I’m holding it together without him, but my voice is cracked and full of emotion.

If he can hear me, he’s going to know that I’m falling apart.

But that is all forgotten the moment I feel his fingers twitch against mine.

“Oh my god. You can. You can hear me.”

My sobs come loud and fast as West appears at his other side and takes his other hand.

“Bro,” West croaks. “We’re all here, man.”

My face tingles with attention and when I look up, I find West’s eyes.

“It’s going to be okay,” he mouths. A sob erupts from my throat, my heart aching.

The hope of that being true is too much to take on right now.