Distinction: The Distraction Trilogy #3 (8 page)

My head throbs and there’s an awful pain shooting through my arm.

Nausea bubbles in my stomach and I lurch upwards before vomiting. Whoever is with me must have seen it coming because I feel soft cardboard knock against my chin.

Hot flashes of pain overwhelm me with each heave. My ribs ache. I feel so sore.

“It’s okay; you’re okay.” My mum’s voice breaks through the tired fog of my mind.

I blink and rest back once the heaving stops. “Toothbrush.”

“I’ll fetch one soon.” She pushes my hair out of my face as I blink my eyes rapidly. The blur finally subsides enough for me to take in my mum and my surroundings.

My dad is sitting to my right, holding my hand, and my mum is on my left.

“What… what happened?” I look down at the IV in my arm and the tight bandage around my other wrist. “Was I in an accident?”

“A car smashed into the side of Isaac’s just off the hill,” my dad explains softly.

It all starts coming back to me. We were at a junction. The light turned green for us so we drove through. A green car came flying through the red light to the left. Isaac swerved and the green car swerved, but he hit the front corner of the bonnet. I remember spinning.

My hand flies to my head as I recall cracking my forehead against the passenger side window.

There’s a bandage around my forehead but it’s not too thick.

“You needed glue. It wasn’t a bad cut; your hair will hide the scar,” my mum explains, though I’m not worried about scarring.

“Isaac?” I panic and look around the room. “Where’s Isaac?”

My dad clicks his fingers in front of my face. “Are you hearing me?” I focus on his lips as the sound travels to my left ear but not my right.

“Am I deaf?”

“Temporarily,” a doctor says as he steps into the room. “Hi there, Eloise Price?” I nod, not bothering to correct him. “I’m Doctor Lamar. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a car,” I comment dryly.

My mum moves out of his way as he checks me over and asks me a series of routine questions. He explains that I have a concussion and mild head trauma, a perforated eardrum and some damage to my tongue where I must have bitten it. My wrist is broken but it’s a clean break so it will only need to be in a cast for a few weeks.

“And Isaac?” I ask for the thirtieth time. I’m getting annoyed now.

“Your husband is fine; he’s eager to see you,” the doctor says and I’m not sure why they couldn’t have told me that to begin with. “A few cuts and bruises and possibly a broken rib, but otherwise he’s okay.”

“Thank you,” I say, though I don’t know who I’m thanking.

“We’re keeping you in overnight, purely because we’d like to monitor your concussion.”

“How long until I get my hearing back?” A high pitched ringing sounds from deep in my head, reminding me of the affliction.

“A few days. I wouldn’t worry too much. You got off lightly considering the car damage.”

I disagree but I don’t say as much. I wait for him to finish what he’s got to do.

“I want to see Isaac,” I say as soon as the doctor leaves.

My dad’s fists clench by his side. “Why?”

“Because we were in an accident,” I reply, annoyed by his tone.

My mum kisses me on my good hand and links her arm with my dad’s. “I’ll send him in.”

I pull myself up, careful of my injuries. My entire body feels stiff and sore.

It only takes a minute after they leave before Isaac is strolling into the room, fully clothed in a t-shirt and jeans. He looks okay except for a few scratches on his face and a bandaged forearm.

“I thought…” He says, staring at me with parted lips from the end of my bed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I tell him and motion to the chair by the bed. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Your car on the other hand…”

“I don’t care about that.” He sits and his jaw clenches. “How are you?”

“I’m not as bad as I probably look, judging by your expression.”

“I want to hold you,” he admits with difficulty. “But after today…”

Wincing, I pull myself further up the bed and rest my broken arm on my lap. “You can.” Truth is, after this ordeal I need a hug.

“I can’t.” He looks away, his eyes tortured and pained.

I want to ask him why but I’m scared of the answer.

“What happened exactly?” I say instead.

His expression hardens with anger. “That arsehole driver.”

“What happened to him?”

“The Police picked him up half a mile down the road trying to run away from the scene on foot. He’s unharmed.”

I wince. “Drinking?”

“You guessed it. People sicken me.”

“Let’s be grateful it was us he hit. Someone else might not have been so fortunate.”

He lifts my hand carefully. His larger hands clasp it between them. Soft lips touch my knuckles before his forehead comes to rest there. “I’ve been so worried. Your parents wouldn’t let me see you.”

“I’m sorry.” I do feel a little guilty about that. I put them as my next of kin after we separated. “But I’m okay. Sore… but okay.”

“You’ve been in and out of it for almost two hours now.”

The doctor already told me this, said it was a side effect of the adrenaline, morphine and concussion. “I don’t remember much.”

He kisses my hand again and rests his head on my lap. The urge to stroke his hair is too strong. “I’m sorry, Elle.”

This time I don’t think he’s saying sorry for the crash. It feels deeper than that.

My fingers thread through the back of his growing hair. I tease the locks gently as a way to soothe him. He moans and buries his face deeper into my lap.

I smile a little and rest my head back. The dizziness keeps fading in and out. This time I let it swallow me; it’s starting to become a relaxing feeling.

Isaac wraps a hand around my thigh as I continue to comb his hair with my fingers. “I can’t let you go. Not now.” I’m almost certain he whispers, though I can’t be sure.

Sleep claims me.

The man and woman who saved our lives have called the ward twice and left their number. I manage to catch them and thank them profusely. It seems they’re married and were in the car behind us when the crash happened. It was fortunate that they weren’t pulled into the collision by mistake. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank them enough. If they hadn’t put out the fire, if they hadn’t called for an ambulance… I dread to think.

We talk for a while longer; they even ask if we need anything fetching. The goodness of these people seems to never end. I promise them that I’ll pay them back somehow and, despite their arguments and refusals, I will. I don’t know how but I will.

I hang up just as my dad turns onto the ward. To say he looks worried is an understatement. I told them not to call him. I didn’t want to worry him so I didn’t call him until I had news of both mine and Eloise’s good health.

“You’re both okay?”

I nod, even though I reassured him over the phone that all is as well as can be considering the circumstances. “We’re both okay. It could have been worse. We escaped with clean breaks and a few scrapes.” Speaking of breaks, my ribs ache.

“Where is she?”

“She’s in there.” He makes a move but I stop him with my hand on his arm. “Give her a moment though; she’s getting cleaned up.”

“You should have called when it happened.”

I shake my head. “Pointless worrying you.”

“What happens now? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“He refuses,” my nurse says with a raised brow as she passes us, a thick manila envelope in hand.

“Isaac.” Dad chastises.

I cringe a little. “I haven’t officially discharged myself.”

“But you are, because you’re stupid and stubborn.”

“And just like my dad.” I give him my most mischievous grin and hope he lets me off.

“I’d punch you if I thought it would do any good,” he grumbles. My charm is clearly lost on him.

“Eloise Blackburn.” Our heads whip around at the sound of Elle’s name. It’s coming from the nurses’ station. A tall man with dark skin and a buzzed head stands in front of the desk. He looks stressed; his fingers are laced behind his neck as he chews on his lip. “She was in a car accident.” He adds after the nurse says something else.

My heart stops. Is this one of her friends?

I notice the large bouquet of purple flowers resting on the desk and the teddy bear beside them that holds a love heart between its paws.

“Room three, just down there.” I see her arm stretch over the desk and her hand bends in our direction.

“Thank you.” He turns our way but doubles back when he realises he’s forgotten his gifts.

He’s just a very concerned friend. I repeat this in my head when he strolls past us without a glance and disappears into Elle’s room.

“Just a friend,” I mutter.

My dad doesn’t say anything but now he seems unsure as to whether or not we should go in.

We wait for just under eight minutes. My dad figures this is long enough, though I’m not sure I want to go in there at all. I’m scared of what I’ll discover.

“Come on.” My dad strolls ahead and stops outside her door. I follow and wait for him to knock.

The door opens and it’s the guy with the gifts. He looks at us, we look at him, and then he looks to Elle who we can’t yet see.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” Dad says loudly so Elle can hear him.

“Not at all,” the guy responds, smiling a little when Elle presumably gives him the nod.

I step into the room behind my dad. My palms are sweating and my heart is racing. I feel a little light headed again.

“I’m John.” My dad introduces himself and the guy stretches his hand out to my dad, who accepts it. My eyes find Elle on the bed, fully dressed. It seems she’s taken the bandage off her head. She doesn’t meet my eyes. It looks like she’s avoiding them.

“I’m Silas,” the guy responds. “Elle’s partner.” I feel like I’ve just been kicked in the chest. It takes every ounce of me to not react in some way. He moves to me; his dark eyes seem wary as they meet mine. I robotically take his hand. “You must be Isaac.”

“That’s me,” I say, trying to keep my voice strong. All I can see in my head is him and her. Him on top of her. Him kissing her. I look at her but her eyes are pointing at her lap. “I’m going to bail. Dad?”

“No… no,” Silas interjects, raising his hands. “I’ve got to make a call anyway and move my car to a legal spot. I know you guys have things to discuss.” He moves over to the bed after that major hint and says something quietly to Elle. She smiles softly and tilts her head back to respond with a yes. He presses his lips to hers, hard, and I feel like vomiting. I don’t need this visual but I can’t look away.

I want to punch something.

“I love you,” I hear him say when they separate slightly.

“You too,” she responds and I’m done. Fucking destroyed. He kisses her again before straightening himself and strolling past us both with a quick nod.

“Thought you weren’t seeing anyone?” I snarl at the same time that my dad says, “I’m so glad you’re safe.” He elbows me in the side and shoots me a look.

Eloise looks at me with wide, frightened eyes. “I’m sorry. I lied.” Part of me wanted her to deny it and come up with an elaborate tale as to who he could be.

“Why the fuck did you lie?”

“Isaac,” my dad warns but I ignore him.

She doesn’t respond. Maybe she lied because part of her still wants me. It doesn’t make sense as to why she’d lie. Maybe she didn’t want to hurt me.

Why am I still hanging on to this?

“Tell me.” He clips and runs a hand through his hair. John looks at the curtain as if debating whether or not to wrap himself in it to escape this.

“Isaac.” I hate that I’ve hurt him… again. “I’m sorry, but…”

“But?” He prompts.

“It’s… I don’t know. I don’t know what to say.” I genuinely don’t.

“Does he know that just thirty minutes before he arrived, we were asleep together?”

My muscles tense, flashes of the old Isaac that I didn’t like suddenly coming to life before my eyes. “You put your head in my lap and I comforted you.” Maybe it was a little more than that, but what does it matter? Nothing happened and we had just been in a serious accident together. Both of us were feeling a bit vulnerable. If it’s such an issue, I’ll gladly tell Silas about it and just explain that it wasn’t because of any harboured feelings for my ex-husband. 

“You didn’t think to tell me that you have a fucking boyfriend when I was trying to shove my tongue down your throat?” His dad’s eyes shoot to him though Isaac ignores him. My lips tingle at the thought of the kiss that didn’t happen.

Maybe I won’t mention this part to Silas.

“You’re being irrational.”

“
I’m
being irrational?” He hisses and his dad shoots him another look, which he ignores.

“This is the reason I didn’t tell you.” I’m angry, so angry my aching body is trembling. I jab my finger at him. “Because I was scared you’d make the divorce a living hell.”

He heaves as if I’ve knocked the air from his lungs, his eyes round with realisation. “You’re getting remarried.”

“Oh my god!” I throw my hands up, forgetting about my broken wrist. I regret it immediately and cradle it against my chest. “No!” My head throbs angrily. I rub my temple with my good hand and close my eyes.

“Enough, Isaac!” John snaps, the finality in his tone reminding me of when we were in school and he’d tell us off. We listened when he used this tone. Isaac seems to be listening too. “She’s unwell.”

“Can you give me a moment alone with my wife?” Isaac asks him calmly. Almost too calmly.

I open my eyes and my vision blurs as tears fill them. Isaac stares at me for a long moment, his chest heaving. His blue eyes hold so much pain. It sends a chill through my chest and stomach.

This hurts more than I thought it would. I remember how badly I used to pine for this man, how badly I wanted him. Never did I think we’d be at this point.

“I should have called.” He says quietly as his dad leaves the room and closes the door behind him. That one sentence holds so much regret and sadness to it.

A tear falls from his eye; he doesn’t wipe it away. He lets it trickle down his cheek and into his stubble. My heart gives a painful jerk but I can’t bring myself to say or do anything.

“You fucking ruin me, Elle.” He whispers and his words gut me.

“Isaac…”

“No.” He finally wipes away the tear and strolls over to my bag, which was salvaged from the wreckage. My heart continues throbbing a painful beat as he pulls out the envelope and empties the papers onto the table. “It’s done. It’s done.”

I hesitate, wanting to gather my thoughts so I can rectify this in some way. “I wanted to tell you… I…”

“Don’t.” He scribbles his name onto the dotted line, flips the page and scribbles again.

“Isaac.” I breathe, disbelieving of the emotion he’s showing. He’s never shown this kind of sorrow before, never. Not even when I left. It twists and pulls at my soul. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. That wasn’t my intention.”

He rights himself and runs a trembling hand through his hair. Sad, shimmering eyes scan me one last time before he turns towards the door. “There’s nothing left to say.” The palm of his hand rests against the door. He inhales a shuddering breath and pushes it open. “I hope you’re both happy together.”

“Me too.” I respond stupidly, my own voice mirroring his breathy tone, mostly because my mind is a jumbled mess and it was an automatic response.

I press my fingers to my quivering lips when he leaves the room without looking back. My eyes find his signature on the papers and the pain that tears through me is almost unbearable.

I want to sob. I want to scream. I want to break something.

I don’t though, because I’ve done all of that. That girl isn’t me anymore. I’m stronger than that. I’m already over Isaac. I’ve already grieved this marriage.

So why does this suddenly hurt so badly?