They moved Caleb a floor down, into a private room, and allowed me to sit in there beginning at seven-thirty. 

By nine I'd drank two Red Bulls and sneaked enough glances at the inert figure on the bed to have an idea of what he now looked like. The bruises had darkened and turned bright colors, making him actually look worse than he had the night before. There didn't seem to be any less tubes or wires. He twitched and moved a little occasionally, which I soon realized meant nothing.

He did not wake up.

Leif filled the doorway suddenly, beat-up skateboard in hand. They were technically identical, but so hugely different that it was almost hard to tell. 

"Hey, Tug." He pulled the other chair away from the wall and sat in it a few feet from me, producing a Red Bull from his black jacket pocket. He smelled like weed and cigarettes. Typical Leif. "You look like you need this," he said, avoiding the bed and his twin.

"Thanks," I said dryly, my back and shoulders aching. "You can look at him, you know." Though I would have given a lot if I could have protected him from doing so.

"Think anyone'll notice if I don't?" But he stood again and moved next to his brother's bed. "Fuck," he said after a few seconds, shaken. "Fuck."

I'd talked to the cop in charge of the case a few minutes before and gotten more details. "He was in front of an armored truck. Driver says he didn't even see him." I shrugged, sketched about the next part. "He got caught under the front and ended up between the truck and a wall at a light." I cracked the Red Bull and drank half in an attempt to maintain my composure. They'd only noticed because the man riding shotgun had seen Caleb's foot all twisted up the wall.

"Jesus fucking Christ." He ran his hand over his face and dyed black hair, making it stand up. He looked back at me with an expression I hadn't seen since we were being chased by bullies in middle school.

"C'mon," I said, heading out the door as I finished my drink and tossed it in a can. "He won't mind."

He followed and we went to sit in my car, not speaking on the way. I lit a cigarette and he lit a joint. "At least let me roll down the windows," I said, shaking my head. "Like I need my car smelling like weed."

He flipped me off because I smoked plenty myself, and offered it to me. We traded. "What's playing on head radio?" he asked.

I tuned in to the music that was always playing in my mind, which we called head radio. With our backs to the wall, the darkness will fall. Never quite thought we could lose it all. "Ready Aim Fire," I told him in a funny smoke-holding voice. I always had a song playing in my head, usually without even being aware of it.

"We do love Imagine Dragons." He blew smoke rings and put his worn black Converse up on the dashboard. "I fed your bird."

"Thanks." My back ached from my sleeping arrangements. Hopefully the cannabis would help. The song in my head continued playing. We don't have a choice to stay.

He yawned, making me yawn. "He sort of demanded it. You know how he is."

I did. "Surprised he hasn't found my car here."

"He left when I did." He held out the joint and we switched.

My mind was mush. "I hate hospitals."

"Gee, I wonder why." He shifted position. He was never comfortable. Caleb was always still when seated. "Go home and sleep. How many energy drinks have you had? I'll stay here."

"How many energy drinks have you had?" My eyes were gritty. "I should go by the house, check on the kids."

He made a rude noise and brought his feet back down to the floorboard with a bang. "They're fine. Your sister even fed the baby." He rolled his eyes. Black eyeliner defined them, making the blue brighter. "They know where my house is if they need something."

I did go back upstairs with him anyway for another hour, during which time Caleb's chest rose and fell and no alarms beeped. 

Finally Leif nudged me awake with his foot and I stood hazily. Damn Red Bulls, they had one job.

"Call me if anything . . . " I gestured aimlessly. He nodded and I pushed his head away in farewell as I left.

I went to my own perfect little house and passed out fully clothed on the bed.

I awoke at two and texted Leif but he said there had been no change. A shower washed the reek of the hospital out of my hair and I drank two cups of coffee. 

Then I went straight back to reabsorb the smell, noting the continued absence of my crow, who was pissed at me for not coming home the night before. I wasn't up for a visit to my family's house, though, not even for Poe.

Leif was dozing in a chair by the window, a pile of shredded paper next to him on the wheeled-aside tray. 

I stopped next to Caleb's head and checked him out. Still really bad. Worse, even. I sat in the other chair and switched on the TV. The volume was way too high and blared out before I could figure out how to lower it.

Leif jerked awake, got his bearings, and gave me a dirty look. "Seriously?"

"Sorry." I handed him one of the fidget spinners he'd left in my car.

He stretched and spun it, then glanced at the bed. "Nothing?"

"I just got here, but no." I flashed on a mental picture of Caleb stuck between the truck and the restaurant wall, and cringed inwardly at my vivid imagination.

He looked up at the TV, where a talk show played on mute. "So he was telling me about his trip. I mean, before this happened." He kept his eyes on the screen.

I couldn't find sense in that statement. "What are you talking about?"

He spun his fidget spinner, met my eyes, and looked away immediately. "He, um . . . there was a . . . never mind, nothing."

I narrowed my own eyes. "Leif."

"What?" he asked, super interested in the TV still.

I reached and pushed him. "You tell me what!"

His gaze flicked to the bed. "It's nothing. We can talk about it later."

I sat back, arms crossed, pondering.

I had about four seconds to do this before a quavery voice behind me spoke. "Is this--is Caleb in here?"

I turned, but not before I registered Leif's classic Oh fuck look. A stranger stood in the doorway, her hair in a messy bun on her head, a dark cardigan draped around her, red-rimmed eyes in an almost heart-shaped face.

"Yes . . . ?" I answered, the question clear in my voice.

She hesitated but then came in the room, past me and over to the bed. She looked down and gasped, her hand going to her chest. "Oh my God. Oh my God, Cale, I had no idea, they didn't say you were, that he was . . . is he going to even live?" She looked up at me as if for reassurance.

I automatically offered it, partly out of eldest sibling instinct, partly because Caleb might be able to hear us. "He'll be okay," I said. He had to be. 

"Oh my God," she said again, crying now. "How could this happen?" I looked at Leif and he looked guilty as fuck, which raised the rest of my red flags.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked, my voice deceivingly pleasant.

Leif heard the dangerous undertone and visibly braced himself.

She turned to look at me, reluctant to meet my eyes, but finally did. Hers were the vibrant light teal of oceans in Disney movies, and I dismissed them as colored contacts. Strands of her hair had come loose and one was across her nose. She brushed it back with her hand, her eyes darting back to the bed, then she made herself look at me. "You haven't talked to Cale."

Intriguing response, and I hated it with every fiber of my being. "I talked to him on the phone when he got off the plane. But I didn't talk to him about whoever you are, if that's what you mean. Not before he got himself crushed on the way to meet me, no. Want to enlighten me in his place?" I was hot all over because I knew. Of course I knew.

She took a step back from my tirade but that brought her up against his bed, which somehow pissed me off more. "I'm, I, we," she stuttered.

We.

I turned my wrath on my best friend, because this is what he'd been hiding. "Maybe you want to toss out an explanation about all this?" I waved my hand at her, including Caleb in it.

He looked truly miserable. "He was supposed to have told you. I didn't know what to say."

I was incredulous. I shoved him. "What? How about, I don't know, hey Mary, by the way, did you know Caleb was cheating on you with some really hot blond chick? That would have summed it up pretty easily, huh?" I had to get out of there.

A nurse came in with a big frown. "You kids'll have to keep it down in here, there are people that need their rest."

"I am twenty-six years old," I hissed at her as I moved past, focusing on that small thing for some reason out of everything. "And I was just leaving."

I ignored the elevator and went down the stairs, my footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell, my heart pounding. Why were staircases always so lonely and sort of haunted at the same time? Why didn't they put more insulation in or carpeting or something to take away some of the creepiness?

I lit a cigarette as I got into my car, my exhausted mind trying to figure out what had just happened. 

songs in this chapter:
Ready Aim Fire (Imagine Dragons)