“Well, sometimes I deserve to be blamed,” I tell her, turning onto my side to face Quinton as the tears finally start to flow from my eyes. Reality sinks in and crashes down on me. Hard. More death. More weight. I can’t fix this. What’s done is done. Delilah is gone. I can’t go back and try to help her. She’s gone. I have to accept that. “I have to go, Mom,” I say, and as she starts to protest I add, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hang up before she can say anything else.
“Are you going to be okay?” Quinton asks, sitting up and leaning over me.
I nod, not bothering to suck back the tears as they pour out. “I’ll be okay eventually, but I need a few moments.” Tears stream down my cheeks and drip onto the blanket below me. I don’t bother stopping them. It’d make things worse if I did. It’s something I’ve learned over the years, that suppressing the pain will only make it worse in the long run, but letting everything out doesn’t make it easier.
Quinton
I remember when I came back from the accident, when they revived me and I woke up. I asked my dad where Lexi was and all he said was, “She’s dead.” I wished he’d said more—that he were there for me. Like I need to be here for Nova now, if she needs me. But can I? Am I that strong?
More tears pour out of Nova’s eyes as her hand finds my arm and she grasps me, her nails piercing my skin. I don’t draw back. I let her take out her inner pain on me.
She chokes back a sob, her shoulders heaving as she battles not to lose control. “Quinton, it hurts so bad.”
“I know it does,” I say as I wrap my arms around her and hug her so tight against me I can feel her heart beating. I want to tell her it’ll be okay. That it won’t hurt forever. That it’ll get easier. But she won’t believe me at the moment. If anyone gets that, it’s me. There is nothing I can say to take her pain away or make her feel less guilty, so I do the only thing I can do. Something I wish someone had done for me in the beginning and what Nova did for me in the end.
I hold her as she drowns in her pain, making sure she doesn’t go completely under.
Nova
I’ve lost it. I can’t breathe. Think. Do anything but sob. I’m letting all the pain out, just like I should, but the ache inside my body feels like it’s going to kill me. Another person gone. More tears to shed. More good-byes. Coffins. Flowers. Mourning. It seriously feels like too much, but there’s one thing that keeps me from breaking apart completely and that’s Quinton. At first I fight it, worry he’s not strong enough for me to have a meltdown, but once I let it all out, I can’t seem to turn off the tears and emotion pouring out of me. And he lets me sob on his shoulder, allows me to cling to him for hours, smoothing his hand up and down my back and telling me it’s going to be okay.
“I should have done something more for her,” I whisper through the tears. It’s another thing that will haunt me forever. The fact that I should have said more—done more to help her.
“You did all you could,” Quinton assures me, kissing the top of my head. “Nova, you can’t save everyone… and you’ve done more good in your life than most people do.”
I press my cheek against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. “It doesn’t feel that way… it doesn’t feel like I’ve done anything.”
“Look at me,” he begs, and when I don’t, he hooks his finger underneath my chin and tips my head back, forcing me to look at him. “It’s because of you that I’m here. If it wasn’t for you then I would probably be dead in a ditch somewhere, and you know what?” A pause. An intake of breath. Whatever he’s going to say is hard for him. “I’m glad I’m here.”
He’s admitting he’s glad that he’s alive. That I saved him. That he got clean. I know that has to be difficult for him. To let go of the pain and guilt enough to admit that he wants to be happy.
“It wasn’t just me, Quinton,” I say. “Your dad and Tristan helped, too.”
He shakes his head, eyes burning with intensity. “Nova, you didn’t give up on me no matter what. Do you know how many people would have just let me go? Hell, my f**king dad did until you got involved.”
“That was because of my mom,” I explain, pushing up on my elbows and looking down at him. “She’s the one that called him.”
“Yeah, because you made her get ahold of him,” he says, his fingers sliding away from my chin, and he cups my cheek in his hand. “It’s because of you and your refusal to give up on me that I’m here. And it’s because of you that I’ve stayed in this place and that I want to continue to stay in this place.” He brushes his lips across my forehead, before looking back at me. “You give me hope, Nova Reed. Hope that even though life is really, really hard—even if it f**king sucks sometimes—that it’s worth living.”
Deep down, I know he’s right. Life does suck, but it’s worth living, especially for moments like the one I just experienced a few hours ago with Quinton. But it’s moments like these, the ones when you have to feel the loss of life, that make it so hard to want to keep breathing.
Chapter 15
Quinton
December 28, the day of the funeral
I’m doing everything I can to be there for Nova, not just to pay her back for everything she’s done for me, but because I love her. I make sure to give her everything she needs, whether she asks for it or not. I go to Maple Grove for her. I even insist on going to the funeral with her, even though the idea of it terrifies me to my very soul. Part of it is that I knew Delilah and it’s always difficult to lose someone you know. But the other part of my fear stems from the fact that it’s a funeral and represents death. I haven’t actually been to a funeral before, even with how many people I’ve lost. I was in the hospital when Lexi’s and Ryder’s took place, but I’m sure I wouldn’t have been allowed to go even if I’d been able to. And my grandma took care of me when my mom’s went on because they didn’t feel like a funeral was a place for a newborn.
So this one will be my first. It doesn’t start so well when I lose track of Nova a few hours before. I was hanging out in her room after she said she was going to go finish getting ready. Then she took off from her house without telling anyone and we found her in the car, talking to her camera and crying her eyes out. It nearly killed me, seeing her like that, but I did the only thing I could and let her cry on my shoulder, holding on to her so she wouldn’t fall. It’s not a lot, but all I can really do for her is be there while she works through her pain, let her know she’s not alone.