One Summer Isn't Enough (Summer, #4)

chapter 21

BELLY

Within fifteen minutes of Conrad ending the call with Adam, we're dressed and in the car. Luckily, Jere was staying at their Boston house while Adam was out on a business trip, so he was taken to Mass General. We still have no idea what happened to him, but it's evident that the sudden news took a toll on Conrad. His knuckles are white as he clutches the steering wheel, and he's taking halting breaths.

I turn toward him just as we merge onto the freeway. "Connie. Calm down. I know you're scared, and I am too. But everything's going to be alright, okay?"

He blows out a hard breath and shakily says, "If anything happens to him...the last thing we told him was that you're pregnant. That isn't...I can't..."

"Nothing has happened to him. With the amount of my cereal milk he's had over the years? The man is rock solid. He probably just sprained something." At this point, my main focus is to calm Conrad down. We'll deal with what comes next when we need to.

He loosens his grip on the steering wheel, which I see as a good sign. Google Maps tells us that we're two minutes away from the hospital, and soon we've entered the visitor parking. I rush into the lobby and check us both in while Conrad finds an empty parking spot.

By the thirty-minute mark since we got the call from Adam, we're both sitting in the waiting room after being told by a nurse that we'll be able to see Jere in a few minutes. Conrad's hand finds mine and we grip each other tight, as if this physical connection between us is the only thing grounding us at the moment. After what feels like forever, a nurse in blue scrubs and long purple acrylic nails comes in and says to us, "You can see him now. It's just the two of you, right?"

Conrad opens his mouth, but I say quickly, "Yes. But we might have other family members coming in later, if that's okay."

She nods and makes a note on her clipboard and tells us to follow her. Conrad is probably used to the smell of hospitals by now, but I'm just reminded of how much I hate it. The bleach and disinfectant are like stark opposites of the salty beach air that I crave all year long.

As the nurse gestures towards a room, we step inside and see Jere laying down on a bed, his eyes closed. A heart rate monitor is beeping quietly beside him, and he's breathing through a pair of nubbins in his nose. Some IV tubes have been attached to the crook of his elbow, and my eyes follow his arm down to the gauze wrapped around his left hand.

Beside me, Conrad is quiet. I know that he's taking in all of this medical equipment that Jere's been hooked up to and is trying to make a diagnosis himself, but I wish he would say something. Between his silence and the usually bubbly, full-of-life Jeremiah laying in front of me looking so much like Susannah during her last days, the walls of the hospital kind of feel like they're closing in on me.

However, I pull myself together and quietly ask the nurse, "Why was he brought in?"

She checks her clipboard and replies, "The paramedics received his call from a motor vehicle in a town near the outside of Cousins. He was having difficulty breathing, and it was evident from an injury on his hand that he had punched something. EMTs concluded it was a panic attack of sorts, probably out of frustration or being overwhelmed, and brought him in for treatment."

My eyes begin to water and I push out a thank you to the nurse before rushing out of the room. I can hear Conrad calling out after me, but I don't stop. I can't do this. It's too much. Somehow, I find a door that takes me outside, and the physical relief I feel after the fresh air enters my lungs is indescribable. I sit down on a nearby bench and take deep breaths, wiping my tears.

I can't be weak. I need to be here for Conrad right now, and more importantly, for Jere. For my best friend. But either due to the pregnancy hormones or the environment as a whole, my emotions are fogging my brain up. Closing my eyes, I take a second to think.

Jere called in because he was having a panic attack. And it was right after the party, by the looks of it. Did he react this way because of the baby news? I thought he was over everything that went down a long time ago. But if it wasn't about the baby news, then why would he have such an out-of-ordinary reaction?

Just as my mind drifts towards Conrad's panic attacks from when we were teenagers, he opens the door and softly asks, "Room for one more?"

I look over at him and smile, genuinely. He sees that I need space, and I appreciate that so much about him. But this is about us, not about me. And I learned that a long time ago.

I pat the spot next to me. "Saved it just for you."

He walks over and plops down on the seat next to me, resting his head on my shoulder. We stare into the horizon, making no sounds for a few minutes, before I realize that Conrad is crying very quietly.

I tilt his head towards me. "Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong?"

His cheeks are streaked with tears. Miserably, he says, "He never got over you."

I pull my head back in confusion, but my brain is solemnly nodding along with Conrad's words. He continues, saying, "I thought...I thought he was over everything that had happened. Especially when he started dating that one guy who he worked with. Arlo. They seemed so happy together, and he looked like the old Jeremiah."

I remember that. For our first Christmas together as a couple-couple, Conrad and I had invited everyone over to his place for Christmas dinner. We didn't think Jere would come, even though we had sent him an invitation and a Christmas card. But not only did he show up, he brought his new boyfriend along with him. The two of them were decked out in matching ugly sweaters and Santa hats and looked adorable, and Jere looked so happy and blissful throughout dinner. Laughing, smearing bits of mashed potatoes on Arlo's cheek, taking silly selfies in front of the Christmas tree. I for sure thought he was back to being Susannah's sunshine boy.

But I guess not. And now, when we're sitting at a hospital bench while Jere is hooked up to all kinds of medical equipment inside because of a choice that I made, I begin to feel a little bit like how I did after my very public fight with Conrad at Susannah's funeral. In other words, pretty much drowning in self-loathing and pity.

As usual, no matter how hard I try to fix everything, I only end up making it worse.