Undone: Kaden and Hailey Read online

  She blinks back at me. “You have been here since yesterday, Kaden.”

  The hell she says.

  “Very funny,” I whisper and rub at my eyes. My vision keeps going blurry. “Ha ha.”

  “I’ll send them in.” She turns and goes without cracking a smile, dammit.

  Since yesterday. Sure.

  Whatever.

  But then the door opens again and my mom walks in, so how…? This is surreal.

  Maybe I’m dreaming.

  Yeah, I have to be dreaming, because my brother follows behind her with his girl and his two kids.

  “Matt?” I choke out. “Mom? What are you guys doing here?”

  “What do you think, you oaf?” my brother grumbles, leaving the kids with his girl –Octavia, yeah, that’s her name – and plants his ass on my bed. “Visiting.”

  “Right,” I mutter, because I’m too tired to bitch. Besides, it’s nice to see them.

  Really fucking nice, and for some reason my eyes start to burn, and oh fuck no, I’m about to bawl like a baby.

  Christ.

  I’m sick. That must be it.

  “I’m sick, right?” I lift a hand to my eyes and it comes away wet. Jesus fuck. “What is it, am I dying and you’re not telling me, huh? That why you all gathered at my bedside?”

  One of the kids suddenly starts to cry, and Octavia grabs both kids and leaves the room.

  I’m breathing hard. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I’m not sure I wanna find out.

  “Nobody’s dying,” Matt says firmly, although there’s a crack in his voice. He looks away for a second, as if to compose himself.“You will be fine, jackass, so don’t talk of death in front of my kids, okay? They’re traumatized enough as it is.”

  It takes me a moment to process this, and my brain aches like a fucker as it comes back to me.

  Matt’s wife. The kids’ mother. She died of cancer a few years back.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “S’ okay.” He pats my shoulder and it sends shockwaves through my head that make me wince. “How you feeling?”

  The question is fucking proof that something did happen to me. But what?

  “Oh, I feel fucking great.” I steal a glance at mom, but she seems busy staring out the window. “Been partying all day here. Great place. What do you think?”

  Matt rubs his forehead as if I am giving him a headache.

  Good.

  “So now that’s out of the way…” I try to sit up straighter but every movement ratchets up the pain inside my skull. “What the fuck happened to me?”

  Matt grimaces. “It will come back to you.”

  “What the fuck, Matt. Tell me, or I swear I’ll—”

  “You need to rest,” he says, patting my shoulder again, goddammit, like I’m five again and he’s the oldest who knows all the secrets. He gets up to go. “We’ll see you later.”

  I frown. “You staying longer in town? Matt—”

  “Rest. Come on, mom. Let’s give him space.”

  “I don’t want space. Where’s Hailey? Can’t you call her? Matt!”

  But the door closes behind them with a quiet snick, and the truth is, the goddamn fucking truth is that I’m so tired that one moment I’m cursing my brother’s stubborn ass, and the rest I’m drifting back into sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Hailey

  My phone is ringing, and I want to dig a hole in the ground and bury it deep.

  Because I bet it’s Trent again. And I don’t want to hear what he has to say.

  I’m changing my number today – even if my traitorous mind doesn’t like it, even if it still holds out hope that Kaden might still call or text me.

  He hasn’t. Not in months. So holding out hope is a…a hobby. A stupid pastime. A mistake.

  And I need to stop thinking about him. I need peace to focus on my work. I’m finally getting back into the groove, going through my portfolio and rearranging it, checking what I have and choosing pieces for a small exhibition.

  Funny how when your life falls apart your work picks up. The gallery I’d submitted a project to more than a year ago finally got back to me and said they want it. Now, in fact – as in two months, so I need to bust my ass and choose the pieces, print them and frame them and decide on the installation.

  I’ve already settled on most of the photos.

  I try not to dwell on the fact that the photos I picked are photos of Kaden and how I need his permission to use them.

  I don’t have to tell him. They are so zoomed in anyway, he wouldn’t even recognize himself.

  Still. Not ethical.

  Damn.

  I’m still changing my phone, okay? And if I call Kaden to ask for his permission to use the pics, I will ignore the butterflies in my stomach and the fire in my blood and the need to hear his voice one last time.

  What if he doesn’t give me permission, though?

  What if he screws this up for me? The only important thing left in my life: my job. My art. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose this, too. It’s what has always pulled me back from the dark, what has kept me sane when my parents split up after countless screaming matches, threats and arguments over who would have custody of me.

  Neither of them wanted it.

  And that hurt like a bitch.

  That’s when I started losing myself in pictures, chasing down the perfect image, learning about techniques and styles.

  Their doomed wedding and the pain they caused turned me into who I am. I can’t be grateful to them for it, but this one thing, my photography, will pull me out of the mire this time, too.

  There’s nobody who can do it for me. Nobody to save me. Again I’ll have to save myself.

  The phone starts ringing again as I go through more photos on my trusted laptop –photos of Kaden working on a car, of him lounging in the sun, winking at me.

  My heart squeezes in my chest.

  God, I miss him.

  Why did things have to turn out this way?

  And the phone is still ringing. Jesus.

  Grabbing it, I swipe my thumb across the screen. “Yeah?”

  I hope I sound as annoyed as I feel, which is a lot.

  “Hailey?” a male voice asks, deep and husky, and for a crazy moment I think it’s Kaden.

  Only it’s not. I’d know his voice even in a crowd of screaming football fans, even in a club with a deafening beat pulsing through the walls.

  “Who is this?”

  “Oh, yeah, right. I’m Matt, Kaden’s brother. I believe we met once.”

  Matt Hansen. “Yes, we did. You came with your girlfriend and the kids.” I frown. “Are you all right?”

  Not sure what made me ask. Something seems off about his voice, and besides…Why would he call me?

  “Are you in Chicago?” he asks.

  “Yes. Why are you calling me, Matt? What’s going on?” I wrack my brain for a reason. “Did Kaden put you up to this? Did he think to have you check on how miserable I am?”

  “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Miserable?”

  I swallow hard and get up from my chair. “That’s none of his business. Unless that wasn’t the purpose of your call.”

  “It isn’t. Hailey…” His pause sounds ominous. I wander to my couch and sink down in it, my legs suddenly weak.

  “What is it? Don’t… Did something happen to Kaden? Oh my God, is he…?” I clap a hand over my mouth, my body going cold. “Matt, is he dead?”

  A reassuring chuckle comes down the line. “No, he’s very much alive and annoying as ever.”

  Heaving a huge sigh of relief, closing my eyes, I fall back, my head hitting the back rest.

  Scary how glad I am to hear it.

  “But,” Matt says, and my eyes fly open.

  “But what?”

  “But he’s in the hospital.”

  I sit up, my heart starting to hammer. “What aren’t you telling me? Is he okay? Is
he hurt? Is he sick? What, Matt?”

  “Okay, sorry, I just don’t want to shock you,” he mutters, and my heart jackknives in my chest.

  “What?” I practically wail. “Tell me.”

  “He had an accident. He hit his head and is confused. He, uh… he thinks that you, uh…”

  Oh God, I’m hyperventilating. “He thinks that I what?”

  And confused? What does that even mean?

  “He thinks,” Matt says, “that you guys are still together. He keeps asking for you. Will you come?”

  He keeps asking for you.

  He thinks you are still together.

  How has my life been twisted up again like this?

  And why does it hurt that he’s asking for me?

  Maybe because I know this isn’t real. Because as soon as he’s better, when his confusion clears, he’ll know we haven’t been together in a while, he’ll recall he’s seeing another woman, and he’ll be gone from my life once more.

  Only, going back to normal won’t be that easy for me. I’ve only just begun to put the pieces of my life back together, finally able to focus on my work and not spend both days and nights thinking of him. Missing him.

  But he needs my help. How can I say no?

  I’ve never been able to say no to him. Even if this breaks me completely.

  How long will his confusion take to clear? I google concussions as I wait at the airport for my flight to be called.

  Confusion. Amnesia. Retrograde, antegrade. Can last between a few hours to a few days.

  I chew on my lip, staring at the words.

  A few days, tops. If he hasn’t remembered everything already and I’ll make a damn fool of myself by walking into his room to see how I can help – only to find he doesn’t want me anywhere near him.

  Gah.

  I cuddle my camera case like a pet, trying to draw comfort from it. On a second thought, I pull out my small pocket camera, the one I use for quick ideas, and snap a few photos of the people around me, the familiar task calming me down.

  You’ve got this, I tell myself. So your ex-boyfriend hit his head and forgot you are not together. He is asking for you.

  Your second ex cheating boyfriend.

  Anyway.

  You will just go, see if you can help, and come back here where you are rebuilding your life. Nothing to it. Everyone does it.

  Phew!

  I check the pics I just took and delete most, keeping two for my Ideas! folder. And of course, as I pass older pics I find some of Kaden. I couldn’t stop snapping pictures of him.

  Hanging my head, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, I pass them, one by one.

  Kaden lying naked on the bed – our bed.

  Kaden grinning at me from across the breakfast table.

  Kaden in a frilly white apron and nothing else, a spatula in his hand. I remember that day. He tried to make pancakes for me. Almost burned the apartment down.

  Not because he can’t cook, but because we got distracted. I got distracted. How could I not when he was practically naked in my kitchen? God…

  This is torture. Seeing him will hurt so badly, but thinking of him helpless and confused in a hospital room also cuts deep.

  The things you do to me, Kade… And the things I do for you.

  Chapter Seven

  Kaden

  The nurse is fussing.

  I may be feeling weird and kinda out of my body here, but I’m not stupid. She has fixed the covers over my legs, like, ten times, and asked me if I need anything else for the third? Or fourth time?

  Or was it another nurse?

  I frown, and then grit my teeth because frowning makes the headache worse. I’m pretty damn sure it’s the same nurse. Or else I’m going crazy and nobody’s got the balls to let me know the truth.

  Matt would tell me, though, right?

  Right?

  I close my eyes, wishing the pounding in my head to go away and my mind to fucking clear.

  When I blink them open again, the nurse is gone and my mom is sitting in a chair beside my bed.

  God, I hate these weird little time jumps. So fucking disorienting.

  “Mom.” My voice sounds like rusty nails so I grab for the glass of water by my bed only to find it gone. “What the fuck.”

  “Kaden, language.”

  The chiding is familiar – mom still can’t accept I swear like a sailor, although according to Matt I started doing it in the womb – but her heart isn’t in it.

  I sit up as best I can, because the damn room keeps tilting to one side, and what’s up with that, huh? “You all right, mom? Is…?” I rub my forehead, as if that will stop the pain. “Is Hailey okay? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Psh,” she says and looks away, her cheeks coloring. “Nothing.”

  Okay, Mom is a really bad liar.

  “You know I can tell there’s something you’re not saying.” My mind automatically cycles back to my girl. “Is it Hailey? Is that why she’s not here? Were we in an accident together?” My eyes burn and I hate this emo shit. Why are my eyes burning? I haven’t cried since I was a toddler. “I need to know. Please.”

  “Oh Kaden.” She hauls herself out of the hard, plastic chair – she has gained some weight since dad died, and it doesn’t help with the arthritic pain she has in her hips and knees. She leans over the bed, and pats my cheek, giving me her warm smile, the one that always made me feel like a winner as I grew up, even when I lost. “Hailey is just fine. Stop worrying about her. She will be here today, okay?”

  I nod, not trusting my voice, or my eyes that keep doing that burning-wet thing.

  Fuck me.

  “Did you feel like that?” I eventually ask, after she has sat back down and I’ve gotten my face and voice under some semblance of control. “With dad?”

  “Like what, honey?”

  “Like…” Talking about feelings is hard. Never done that before. The only person I’ve ever been real close to is Matt and he left town when he turned eighteen to work in fucking Milwaukee. He met his wife, got married, had kids, and we barely saw each other. Not that I’d talk to him about something as girly as feelings. Matt was always a tough, serious older brother. I never felt I could…

  “Like?” Mom prompts. “Feel like?”

  Oh yeah. Why do I keep losing my train of thought? I feel like a train wreck. “Like… life really fucking sucks when she’s not here, you know? Everything sucks.”

  She doesn’t scold me for my swearing. Her gaze grows distant. “Yeah,” she admits. “Yeah, I felt that way about your dad. Still do sometimes. I miss him so much.”

  Oh shit, now I’ve made mom sad. “I’m such a fuck-up. I think…” I try to remember, but my skull feels just about ready to explode. “I think…”

  She looks at me, waiting, and fuck if her eyes aren’t wet, too. “Yes?”

  I lift one shoulder in a shrug. Not sure. I think I fucked up with something important, but can’t recall what it was.

  “Hey mom… Did I hit my head or something?”

  She snort-laughs, and it’s funny enough that I grin at her, despite feeling like shit. “Yes, you did.”

  “That’s news to me.”

  Her face does that guilty-blushy thing again. “Ah-huh.”

  “Okay, so it’s not news. You told me before?”

  She bites her lip and nods slowly, her gaze flicking to the door. What the hell?

  “You told me and I forgot. I have a concussion?”

  She nods again.

  “And someone here told you not to tell me about it?”

  She sighs and wipes at her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Why the hell?”

  “Language.” She sighs again. “They didn’t want us telling you what happened. Said it was better if you remembered on your own. But.” She lifts one finger when I start to protest about the stupidity of this. “We did tell you anyway. It’s hard…” She swallows. “Hard to see your child so distraught. So I replied to your question
s. But you…”

  She waves a hand.

  But I forgot.

  And keep forgetting. Time after time.

  Christ, this is so fucking not good…

  I wake up some time later to find Matt’s girl, sitting in the plastic chair Mom had been in last I looked.

  I think.

  Argh. I rub my eyes and the painful spot between my brows, and search my memory for her name.

  How can I not remember her name? Matt always talks about her. I met her before. How the fuck could I forget the name of my brother’s girl?

  “It’s also the drugs, you know,” she says softly, and I find her observing me with her big blue eyes. “Pretty strong painkillers. Things will look clearer once you’re off them.”

  Ugh. Now that she says it, I notice for the first time the discomfort of a needle taped to the inside of my wrist, a tube leading up to two bags of liquid. “What am I on?”

  She shrugs delicately. “Not sure. You’d have to ask the nurse.”

  Right. The fussing nurse, who may or may not be a different nurse and I wouldn’t know, because I can’t fucking remember.

  “Hailey,” I whisper. I realize I sound desperate, or yeah okay, downright psychotic. Obsessive? Maybe. “Where is she?”

  Matt’s girl – Olivia? Octavia? I’m pretty sure it’s Octavia –gets up and smiles. It’s a sweet smile, and I can see why Matt fell in love with it. “She’s right outside. Shall I tell her to come in?”

  Does it snow at Christmas? “Hell yeah.”

  Since when does she need permission? Alarm bells are going off in the back of my skull and I close my eyes, fighting dizziness.

  Ow, dammit.

  Low voices penetrate the haze of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve squeezed my eyes shut. I open them slowly, cautiously, making a mental note to ask the nurse what she has flowing into my veins – and maybe up the dosage.

  Then it hits me that one of the voices belongs to Hailey and I blink, sitting upright, reaching for her.

  “You came.”

  And she’s standing right there, in front of me, more beautiful than ever, and yet… different.