Chapter 41 Grayce

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and I didn’t know what.
I lay in bed, staring at the traces of light from the moon on my ceiling. I couldn’t get comfortable enough to fall asleep; I felt wired and wide-awake like I’d downed an entire pot of coffee. I kept seeing Jaxon in my mind, the desperate, sad look on his face, the ridiculous way he’d swayed where he stood, trying to apologize but not knowing how. I didn’t know if I was ready to forgive him or ever would. I considered cutting him out completely, ignoring his calls and texts, and just walking away from the drama. But as much as I tried to convince myself that that was the best route to go, I couldn’t shake this eerie feeling that something in the Universe was off. It was the same feeling I used to get when my dad would be home late for work. We always knew what was coming, my mom and me, because if he was home late, there was a good chance he’d be drunk. And angry. That familiar feeling had a hold of me now, the sensation of dread, a twisted gut, and shaky hands.
I sat in bed and threw my legs over the side, trying to steady my fraying nerves. I glanced at the clock, not surprised to see that it was almost five in the morning. I’d been up all night and wasn’t about to get any sleep now.
Creeping so I wouldn’t wake Alex, I slipped on my boots and a coat, grabbing my phone as I left the house. It was freezing outside, and I could see my breath in the chilly late-fall air as I walked. I pulled out my cell and dialed Jaxon’s number. Despite hoping he’d answer, it rang before going to voicemail. I hung up and tried once more, but it was useless. I hoped he was only passed out in bed, sleeping off the many shots I assumed he’d thrown back that night. He was okay, surely, but something was still compelling me to walk across campus at five o’clock in the morning to check on him. It didn’t seem to matter how angry I was at him; I was sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I had peace of mind.
I arrived at Jaxon’s apartment and knocked softly on the door. It was a light knock at first, but when he didn’t answer, I knocked even harder this time. There was nothing; no sound, no movement, no rustling of life from inside. I turned the doorknob. It was open. Stepping inside, I ran my hands over the wall, trying to find the light switch so I could see further than a foot in front of me. I found it, finally, and when I turned it on, the whole living room lit up. And that’s when I spotted him.
He was lying on the couch with one leg and one arm hanging off the side. There was a spilled beer bottle on the carpet next to his hand and an empty bottle of prescription pills next to that. He wasn’t sleeping; that was the first thing that crossed my mind, and horror gripped my chest when I spotted the vomit protruding from one side of his mouth.
For what seemed like an eternity, the world stopped turning. Movement, logic, sight … everything felt like it no longer existed. All I knew in the deepest chambers of my soul was terror; pure and unfeigned terror gripped my chest in steel vices and squeezed the air from my lungs and the confidence from my mind. I couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. I was sure he was dead, lying on the couch, motionless, pale … deathly white. He was dead. He was dead. He had to be dead.
As I stood there, willing my legs to move but knowing damn well that I was on the verge of collapsing, my mind began to swim. Suddenly, I saw Jaxon as more than just a guy I’d met through football. I saw him as my friend, my confidant. He was someone I never knew could make me care so deeply. That was why I was there, wasn’t it? That was why I’d shown up in the middle of the night to check on him because I cared. I cared about him so profoundly and vehemently that when I finally willed myself to move across the room and to his side, I didn’t know what I would do without him. I wouldn’t survive. Not without him, not anymore. And why that was, I wondered, I had no idea.
I fell to my knees in front of him, one hand reaching out to feel for a pulse. The dull, light beating of his heart sent a shock of relief through me, and my hands were shaking as I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911. He was alive, but barely. As I spoke in a shaky voice to the dispatcher, trying not to lose it, I shook him, expecting his eyes would flutter open and he’d look up at me with that cocky look.
“I have an ambulance coming to you,” the dispatcher said.
“Please hurry,” I begged and dropped the phone.
Whatever happened next was mostly a blur. The Paramedics arrived shortly, checking his pulse before loading him onto the gurney. It was a horrible flashback of the football accident, and it took everything I had in me not to fall to my knees and sob into my hands.
Somehow, I found my phone and called Alex, who came over straight away to pick me up. I didn’t remember much after that, not the car ride to the hospital, the tension in the air, the worry, the terror. I couldn’t speak, even when Alex took my hand and didn’t let go. We were about to enter the ER when I realized I had a hold of Jaxon’s phone. Alex took it for me, and she must have called Tyler because he showed up after twenty minutes, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed with a raging hangover. He saw Alex and me in the waiting room and came over. I barely registered that he was even there.
“You found him?” Tyler asked. I nodded my head, wrapping my arms around my torso to try and bring in some comforting warmth. Tyler opened his mouth as if he was about to say something more and then shut it again. We stared at each other for a long moment, neither of us looking away. Finally, he spoke.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea that you’re here,” he said. “But thanks for, you know, calling 911.”
“Why can’t she be here?” Alex demanded before I could respond to him. “They’re friends, asshole.”
“No, I’m his friend,” Tyler said. “I always have been. Jaxon has been in a fragile state, and I’m not sure Grayce helps matters.”
“Are you fucking kidding—?” Alex started to shout, but I cut her off mid-sentence.
“That’s fine,” I said. I felt so defeated that I didn’t even have the energy to argue with him. Maybe Tyler was right. Perhaps I was even the reason Jaxon overdosed in the first place.
“Grayce, don’t let this prick push you around,” Alex said. “I called him so he could be here with Jaxon, not so he could stomp all over you.”
Ignoring her, Tyler nodded once at me and then turned and walked away. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the waiting room chair, wondering what was happening. Was Jaxon alive? Was he dead? Was he going to be okay? Did I reach him in time?
The questions were swirling around in my mind, pestering and hurting me, demanding an answer I didn’t have.
“Let’s go,” I said after a moment of silence. “Tyler has this handled.” I could tell Alex wanted to argue with me, but as she opened her mouth to say something, she seemed to think better of it and closed it.
“Are you sure?”
“There’s nothing I can do,” I said. I stood up. My legs were shaking, and Alex steadied me.
“You probably saved his life,” she said.
“Then he can thank me later,” I said. We walked out to the car together, unable to speak, neither of us knowing what to say. As I reached for the handle on the door, I froze. My hands and face were tingling. An unfamiliar sensation washed over my body and held onto me in an iron grip. On the other side of the car, Alex noticed my hesitation, and she looked at me, waiting to see what was about to happen.
My fingers dropped from the door handle and fell to my side. A sudden ringing appeared in my head, high-pitched and aggravating. My stomach hurt as a wave of nausea overcame me. My body was numb now, and I couldn’t breathe. No matter how desperately I tried to pull myself together, I couldn’t move.
“Grayce?” Alex said. Her voice was so far away, like we were in different dimensions. She stood next to me in a moment, her hand reaching out to take my arm. My breathing became sporadic, fast, panicky.
“I can’t breathe,” I said, and Alex took me into her arms to hold me close to her.
“You’re having a panic attack,” she said, and I started to hyperventilate. My knees went weak, and I sunk to the ground with Alex still holding onto me. I was sobbing, wet tears streaming down my face, staining my skin's tingling, numb sensation.
“It’s okay,” Alex murmured. “He’s going to be okay, Grayce.”
As we sat together on our knees in the parking lot, cold, wet, and crying, I realized for the first time since I’d known Jaxon Tate that there was no reason to deny the motive for my breakdown. Could I deny it anymore? No. Not to her, and certainly not to myself.