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“Wait, there is one other thing that’s been bugging me.” I move back in front of her and lower my voice. “On the voicemail he left me he said, that fucking Tommy, first Vanessa and now this. Right after that I heard him and his phone hit the floor. What did he mean by first Vanessa?”
Her eyes immediately dilate and the color drains from her face. “I… have no idea. Maybe because we dated in high school? I don’t know, Trey. He just hates Tommy,” she states coldly, turning back toward Tyler’s room.
Following her back to his room, I begin to realize that she is no longer the girl who I fell in love with years ago. Something has changed. I know she has had a tough time dealing with Tyler’s mood swings and addiction, but she hasn’t shed a single tear since I arrived. Mom on the other hand is a complete basket case. I need to send these two home to get some rest.
Chapter 8
Trey
After twenty minutes of sitting and listening to the life support system, I’m already regretting that I sent Mom and Vanessa home. Since hospitals make me uneasy, it’s not likely that I’ll get any sleep tonight. It’s a welcome distraction when a nurse comes through the door to check on him.
“Hi, I’m his twin brother, Trey,” I tell her while rising from the chair.
“Okay, you freaked me out for a second there. You two really look identical.” She giggles.
“How is he doing?” I ask, concerned that he hasn’t shown any signs of life.
“Well, they got him on Narcan as soon as they could, but it’s just a matter of how much damage had already been done. The neurologist said his EEG looked pretty good,” she replies while checking all of his stats. “His blood pressure is still creeping back toward normal.”
“Do people usually recover from something like this?” I ask, looking for a little reassurance. The fact that he hasn’t so much as flinched since I’ve arrived is giving me a sickening feeling.
“Well, considering he has brain function and his vitals are improving; I think he has a pretty good shot. The doctor should be in shortly; he can give you a better idea of what to expect.” She smiles politely and proceeds to write several things on his chart. “Is there anything I can get you?” she asks prior to leaving the room.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Well, there is a family lounge down at the end of the hall if you would like a cup of coffee or a snack,” she adds, before closing the door.
“Thanks.”
I turn to the bed and simply stare down at Tyler. Even though we have had our ups and downs, only someone who is a twin can understand the bond we share. I take his hand and lift it off the bed. It’s so freaky that his arm is completely lifeless.
“You and I still have a special connection, brother,” I tell him despite the fact that he undoubtedly can’t hear me. “When I saw those messages from you, I could feel that something was wrong. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to them right away. I just didn’t want to deal with any more bad news.”
My phone buzzes, so I pull it out and see it’s a text message from Mandy.
Mandy: How is everything?
Trey: Tyler is still unconscious, but they are hopeful.
Mandy: How about your Mom and Vanessa?
Trey: Mom was a basket case. I sent them both home for some sleep.
Mandy: So you are there alone?
Trey: Yeah, but there are lots of people coming and going.
Mandy: Wish I was there.
Trey: Me too.
Mandy: Try to get some sleep.
Trey: You too. I’ll keep you posted.
Mandy: XoXo
Trey: XXOO
Following our exchange, I’m taken aback by the strong yearning feeling inside of me. I want her to be here with me more than anything right now. I look at my watch and realize it has only been four hours since we parted ways at the airport, but it feels much longer. I sit back in the chair and think about the incredible sex we had on our return flight. I think that was the highlight of my sex life so far. Shit, thinking about that isn’t going to help me sleep. The door suddenly opens again, startling me. I quickly shift in my chair to hide any evidence of my thought-provoked arousal.
“Mr. Addison?” a uniformed officer asks.
“Yes,” I respond, rising carefully from the chair.
“Your mother’s suspicions were correct,” he starts out. “The suicide note was not written by your brother. Whoever wrote it though, obviously had access to a sample of his handwriting.”
“I knew that note didn’t sound like him,” I reply, confirming my suspicions.
