It's been about a week since that argument with Avery and I haven't seen her around school, once I sobered up I immediately felt like a major dick for saying all of that. I meant most of it but only because I was upset and hurt.
I've been letting her have her space, she's probably been staying home or ditching to avoid me which if I were her, I would do too.
I'll probably go check up on her after school today, do something nice, maybe go buy some brownies since that's kinda our thing. And since I was such an ass I probably apologize.
As the final bell rings I drive over to her house and knock on the front door.
"Brett? Oh, hello," Avery's mom says nervously as she brushes her skirt and looks back at me, "what are you doing here?"
I look at her confused, why else would I be here?
"I um, came to see Avery." I say a little uncertain of what's going on.
"Oh Brett," she says her voice sorrowful and worry begins to fester inside me, "you didn't hear? She's, been in an accident, she's been in the hospital about a week now," she says tear welling I her eyes and my heart first stop sinking as I fight back tear of my own, "she didn't sustain any serious injuries but she's... She's unconscious and the doctors don't know if she'll wake up." She finishes as she starts to weep and I hug her as tears start to fall from my eyes as well.
I race to the hospital wiping the tears from my eyes and a sense of panic comes over me, tons of guilt floods me as I blame myself for everything. It happened the night we fought.
If I hadn't yelled at her, if I didn't tell her to get out, she might not have been hit by that truck, she could still be awake. If she dies it's my fault, If she dies the last thing I ever said to her was how I hated her.
I pull into a parking spot and sprint to the front desk.
"What room is Avery Summers in?" I ask the nurse frantically.
"354 darling, it's to your right." She says calmly as I rush into her room.
I hear the heart monitor beating at a continuous pace and I sit at her bed side. She looks so pale with the bloodstained scar on her forehead and scuffed up knuckles.
In this moment she looks almost like she's asleep, so beautiful and peaceful even in this unconscious state.
I take her cold hand in mine and gently rub it, thinking that maybe she can feel it.
"I'm so sorry." I whisper as I kiss her forehead softly.
"This is my fault, if I weren't such a stupid drunk idiot I wouldn't have yelled at you..." I explain even though she can't hear me. "Even though it probably doesn't count now, I just needed to tell you what I said wasn't true, I don't think you're any of those things, I think you're beautiful and smart and funny and perfect and I can't believe I'm saying this because like I've told you so many times, I don't do love, but damn it Avery I think I love you."
My imagination runs rampant a bit and tells me maybe with that declaration she'll wake up or move , but nothing happens.
I'm just left alone, in a room with the unconscious version of a girl I love and my thousands of thoughts each telling me how this is my fault.
I'm dragged into this dark pit of my own thoughts each voice accusing me and each accusation I except and take letting myself slip into this nightmare of my own mind when I can't stop crying.
"Sir..." An older voice calls and I slowly open my eyes from that hellish dream to see its dark out and a nurse is standing I front of me, " sir visiting hours are over."
I still have averts hand in mine and I sit up and nod.
"I'm sorry yeah, I'll go, sorry." I mumble as I set her hand down on the bed and turn to the door to leave.
I've never felt so guilty and empty in all my life.
"How's she doing today Martha?" I ask the nurse who had been taking care of Avery for the past two weeks.
"It's not much better sweetheart, doesn't look like she'll wake up anytime soon..." She says regretfully as she fixes the bed sheets.
"I know, I was just hoping because is Christmas Eve and all, maybe a miracle would happen..." I say letting go of that childish hope.
"She's one luck girl..." Martha sighs out as she set a tray of food In front of me.
"What do you mean?" I ask her as I pick up the apple and take a bite.
"Honey, you've been here everyday, her moms only visited 3 times, you must really love her." She explains gathering all the dirty sheets and walking out the door.
In all honesty I'm here everyday because besides loving her, I'm consumed with guilt and worry. If she never wakes up I could never forgive myself.
I barely sleep anymore because I'm constantly worrying, the only detox I get is banging Maddie, I know it's not right, but it's the only thing that I can count on and there are times I just need to be normal and not worry about my comatose girlfriend.
God damn, did I just call her my girlfriend? I let out a big stressful breath and kiss her on the forehead.
I need to head home anyways, my moms planning Christmas dinner.
On the drive home I can't help but feel extra guilty today of all days, her favorite holiday is Christmas and she won't even be awake to celebrate. There's no way in hell I can enjoy this holiday if I'm constantly worrying.
Christmas happens in fast forward and I don't remember anything except that my mom had the remaining two Summers come over for Christmas dinner and they didn't leave until 1 in the morning.
After Christmas I can't find it in myself to go stop by the hospital, I'm constantly at the gym or running through the woods and it's surprisingly calming, I'm scarcely worried anymore.
My mother thinks there's something wrong with me since I'm always out being proactive, she think I'm shooting up speed or something. I love how she worry about me the only time I'm not doing anything worth worrying about.
I finish my run through the park and as I jog into my neighborhood I see Avery's mom in the driveway and decide to check in to see how Avery's doing.
"Hi Mrs Summers," I greet her as I remove the earbuds from my ears and smile at her, "how's Avery, any progress?"
She looks at me strangely and than smiles a big grin. I'm confused for a second until she begins to talk, "Brett it was wonderful, she woke up two days after Christmas, she's been home since yesterday."
As these words I've been dying to hear fall out of her mouth my heart begins to pick up pace.
"Where is she can I see her?" I ask as I'm already racing toward the front door.
"She's taken a walk into the woods, go find her." She says with a smile and turn and smile back at her as I run as fast as I possibly could into the woods about a mile from our houses.
As I'm running I realize that the last thing she remembers about me was that I yelled at her to get out if my, she might hate me. How do I know she doesn't hate me or not want to talk to me. She might blame me for the accident or just not want to talk to me.
A thousand worries flood my head and I'm fumbling like an idiot through the woods trying to find her and just hoping that she'd be happy to see me.
YOU ARE READING
He Doesn't Do "Love"Teen Fiction
Bad boys don't do "love" and Brett Adam Dallas isn't an exception. His name literally spells B.A.D. He uses girls and throw them out like a used tissue. He's a party-going, no-f*ck-giving, straight-up bad boy. Everything about his god-like looks and...