gasps, my breath short. I couldn't get enough air.
I held her arm, feeling dizzy.
"I don't want to be here," I said, before I collapsed onto the pavement.
I was working on this piece in the garage, music turned up so loud I could barely think. That was one of the perks with this rental place - I had a garage I could work in, and I'd spent every waking moment since River had left turning this place into a workshop.
It gave me something to be obsessed with.
The problem was, even with this shit to work on, it was too quiet. Just me and my thoughts.
I was having a hell of a time. And not in a good way.
Me and my thoughts...alone...weren't a good combination lately.
At least I wasn't thinking about Afghanistan. River had fucking replaced those dreams, had set up shop in my head, occupying my brain, her image replaying the horrific ones.
I wasn't sure it was a good thing.
I was so distracted by thoughts of her that I didn't hear the car pull up, or notice when Silas opened the door.
It wasn't until he yelled that I finally jumped. "Shit, Silas!"
I turned down the music, and set down the acetylene torch I was working with, pulled off my welding goggles. "What the fuck, man?" I said. "You're like a fucking ghost or something. You ever heard of calling first?"
"Elias," he said. His face was pale. "It's mom."
"I just saw her yesterday," I said. "What's wrong?"
"I've been calling you non-stop for the past hour," he said. "You need to get in the car."
"What's going on?"
"Hurry up," he said, his voice clipped.
"Yeah, let me just go put something clean on," I said.
He shook his head. "Just get in the car, Elias."
"What the fuck is going on, Silas?"
"Mom's in the hospital," he said. "I went to see her, found her in the bedroom. She tried to kill herself."
"No," I said, following him to the car.
"Come on," he said. "She's in the hospital. I called Luke. They set a Red Cross message to Killian."
"She was fine yesterday." I couldn't wrap my head around it.
Silas' face looked grim.
"I'm not finishing the rest of the movie with that asshole." I heard myself yelling, the words coming out more like a screech. "I don't care about my fucking contract. I will press assault charges. There's no way the studio is going to make me finish the movie with him on set."
"No one wants to force the two of you to work together." The suit, one of the team the studio had sent down to pacify me, spoke. "Your feelings are justified. All of us want to put this behind us."
"But what?" I asked. "There's always a but." I didn't trust the studio, whatever bullshit they were about to try to sell me.
"The last thing the studio wants is negative publicity for the film," he said. "And I don't think you want that either, at this point, what with all the media attention you've had recently."
"Is that a threat?" I asked. "It sounds like a threat." That same familiar feeling of panic returned.
He waved dismissively. "Of course not, River," he said, his voice soothing. Patronizing. "But the film is nearly complete. Your scenes are essentially finished. The two that are left to film can be done are minor and can be done with a stand-in. It's possible for the movie to be finished without you even being on set."
"You mean I could be done," I said.
"Finished," he said.
"What's the catch?" I asked.
"No catch," he said. "You're free and clear. Done. There's an additional bonus for early completion."
"Hush money," I said.
He tsk-tsked me. "That's a tawdry way of thinking about it," he said. "It's simply a bonus for being so flexible, willing to complete the film ahead of schedule...and for your understanding of the importance of not drawing any more negative attention to the film."
It was hush money.
My head was spinning. I was done. Free and clear. I could go somewhere else. Do something else. Not this.
Take a vacation.
See the world.
Whatever the fuck I wanted to.
The problem was, the person I really wanted to see didn't want to see me.
"Where do I sign?" I asked.
"Are they going to tell us fucking anything?"
Silas shook his head. "They weren't saying anything. That's why I came and got you."
He left the rest of it unspoken. What he really meant to say was that he came and got me in case she died.
"I don't understand it," I said. "She was fine yesterday when I talked to her."
"What did you talk about?" Silas' face was white.
"Nothing," I said. "I swear to God, nothing. I didn't even press her on the property sale. Nothing stressful."
"You had to have said something," Silas said.
"Are you fucking saying it's my fault? I caused this?"
Silas shook his head. "Sorry. No. I'm not. It's just...not something she would do. It doesn't make any sense."
"We talked about the soaps she was watching," I said. "Just like the time before that, and the time before that. Her romance novels she was reading. Her friend Rhonda. Gossip. I don't know. It was all normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. You know how she is."
"She wasn't depressed?"
"No," I said, racking my brain for any sign that something had been off. More off than usual. "I mean, she said dad loved her - not last time, when I sent to see her before- she seemed...wistful, like she was reminiscing."
"Jesus Christ," Silas said. "You don't think she would have killed herself because of the asshole dying, do you?"
"No," I said. Then, less certain. "I don't know."
That was the truth. I didn't fucking know anything anymore.
"Tonight, we have an exclusive interview with Donna Gilstead, River Andrews' mother, who will open up to us about her upcoming book, Living with River." The entertainment journalist flashed her bright smile at the camera, then turned toward her equally perfect-looking co-host. "It promises to be a very interesting interview, doesn't it, Dave?"
"It does, Samantha," he said. "Particularly since River Andrews has gone radio silent since her split from Viper Gabriel."
"Stay tuned," Samantha said. "Donna Gilstead is next on Entertainment News Lately."
"Fuck." I clicked off the remote, my apartment, the new one I'd rented when I'd gotten back here, one with no ties to my past, to Viper, was suddenly silent. It was quiet, too quiet.
Of all the things for my mother to do, this was one of the worst. A tell-all book? I didn't put much past her, but cashing in on my unhappiness was just too much.
I sat there, in the emptiness of my new place, my thoughts churning. And my mind went to cutting. I thought about the cold of the steel blade against my skin, the rush of relief it would bring.
I sat there, frozen, my arms resting on the sides of the armchair, paralyzed with indecision, mulling over the possibilities in my mind.
But I didn't cut. Instead, I called my manager.
"It's River," I said. "I want you to get me an interview with Deborah Ames. I'm ready to go public."
"What the hell happened?" Killian blew into the waiting area like he owned the fucking place. He was unshaven, boots smeared with grease and dust, jeans torn, wearing a leather jacket and still holding his motorcycle helmet. A couple of the other people waiting moved to the other side of the room, and Killian tossed them a dirty look. Then they up and left. If the circumstances were any different, it would have been funny.
Hell, it was fucking funny. Killian wasn't exactly a slight guy - he was a roughneck and intimidating as hell to most people.
Of course, the four of us together probably were pretty intimidating.
"Glad you're here, man," Silas said, clapping an arm around Killian's back. "Not like this, but still, good to see you."
"You too, shithead," he said.
"You just fly in?" he asked Luke.
Luke nodded, his jaw clenched. Luke was real easy-going, didn't let much shit get to him - adrenaline junkie, but when he wasn't jumping out of planes or boarding down the side of a mountain, he was pretty mellow. You could always tell when he was upset, though- he clenched his jaw, ground his teeth. When we were kids he cracked one of them, grinding so bad at night. Our father had found out, said he was going to beat his teeth out of him so he wouldn't need the dentist to remove it, and mom had thrown herself on Luke, taken the beating for him.
"Yeah, been here since last night," Luke said.
"Well, give me the fucking details, then," Killian said. "These fucking doctors tell you anything that's going on?"
"She's still in the ICU," I said. "Overdose. Looks like Tylenol and booze."
"She doesn't even fucking drink," Killian said.
I shook my head. "They don't think it was much booze."
"Doesn't make sense," Silas said. "The whole fucking thing doesn't make sense at all."
"What do you mean?" Killian asked.
I sighed. "Silas has a theory that something's going on here, that the asshole was murdered or some shit," I said. "He'll tell you all the fuck about it if you listen."
Killian turned toward Silas, and Silas put his hands up. "I'm not crazy," he said. "Something's going on, and now this- it doesn't make any sense she'd kill herself, not with the asshole gone now. He was her whole problem for years. She'd be happy he's gone."
"Or..." I said. "Could be like prisoners, you know?"
"What the fuck are you talking about, prisoners?" Luke asked.
"You know, like when prisoners are released after years in prison," I said. "Kill themselves when they finally get out. Can't deal with it."
"Where the hell did you hear about that?" Luke asked.
"It was in that movie, the prison one -"
"Shawshank," Killian said.
"Exactly."
Silas rolled his eyes. "He's going to say my theories are bullshit and crazy, but he's giving you theories that come out of the movies. Shit." He paused, his gaze on the television on the other side of the room. "Isn't that - the screen says River Andrews. Is that your girl?"
I looked up at the TV, to see her face. River Andrews, sitting across from one of those talk show hosts whose name I couldn't remember, one of those women famous for making celebrities cry, doing real heart-to-heart bullshit.
"Hey," Silas walked over to one of the nurses in the reception area. "You got a remote for the TV? Turn it up right quick, will you?"
She looked at him, then at the television, and raised her eyebrows. "Oh yeah," she said, clicking with the remote. "That's that chick that was here in West Bend, isn't it?"
I heard the interview amplified, River's voice louder in the room, and despite everything in me telling me to turn away, not pay attention to what was on the screen, that I didn't want to hear what was coming out of her mouth, I walked over to the television and listened.
Everything else, the hospital noise, my brothers talking, giving each other shit, faded into the background.
"River Andrews," the host smiled, her expression welcoming, disarming. Like someone's grandmother. She leaned forward. "You must have been through a rollercoaster of emotions over the past month, betrayed by your fiancé, running to Colorado..." Her voice trailed off.
River nodded. "Well, Deborah," she said. "It was a life-altering moment, walking in on Viper and my sister."
I felt sick. I wanted to turn away, hearing her talk about how she was torn up by her fiancé's cheating. I didn't need to hear about that shit.
Why torture myself?
I heard River speak again, a response to a question I'd missed.
"It had to be crushing," Deborah said. "Walking in on the two of them, together, and then learning about their engagement. Discovering that Viper had been unfaithful for quite some time."
River shook her head. "I wish them all the best in the world," she said. "I truly hope they find happiness together."
The host shook her head, and made a face. "You sound too calm right now, River," she said, baiting her. "Your mother has plans to release her account of your childhood, your life."
River exhaled, and now I saw the pain in her eyes. "And it will be my mother's account, not mine," she said. "None of it is mine."
I felt a pang of empathy for her, knowing her relationship with her mother. I knew that learning her mother was writing a book about her would hurt her.
"But surely you must have some feelings about all of this, River," she said. "No one is this calm about all of this."
"Shit," Silas said. "She was at the bar that day."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Fucking shut up. I'm trying to hear this."
River smiled. "A good friend once told me that none of these things are the ones that are important in life. They're minor."
She was talking about me. I was the friend.
I wasn't sure if I was pleased that what I'd said mattered, or disappointed that she called me a friend.
"Like what?" Deborah asked.
"Lots of things," River said. "Family. Friendship. Love."
Deborah was more shrewd than she appeared. Her eyes lit up and she leaned in closer. For the kill, I thought. "You were linked to someone when you were in Colorado," she said.
River pursed her lips. I didn't know what the hell she was thinking, but I felt myself hanging on what she was about to say.
"I was," she said.
"A military veteran," Deborah said, looking down at a notecard. "Bomb disposal. Injured in Iraq."
"Afghanistan," River corrected. "Injured in Afghanistan."
"She fucking remembers a lot about you," Silas said, beside me.
"Shut up." I couldn't take my eyes off the screen.
"And?" Deborah asked. "Are you and - "
"Elias," River said.
"Elias." Deborah said. "Well, let me ask the question every single man in America wants to know. Are you still in touch with Elias? Was this the real deal, or just a rebound?"
River swallowed, looked down at her lap, then back up at Deborah. The camera panned in close, focused on her eyes. She