The Wrong Path - By Vivian Marie Aubin du Paris Page 0,61

head in his hands.

“Dad’s talking to Mom’s doctor,” Trevor said, his voice muffled. “She said Will was here but she hasn’t seen him for a while.”

Annabelle squeezed his arm. “Why don’t you call him?” she suggested quietly.

Trevor sat up, his expression cold. “Why? He obviously doesn’t care enough about Mom to wait around to hear how she is. Why should I care where he is? It’s his fault she’s here anyway.”

Annabelle felt her hands clench into fists. “I’ll go get you some coffee,” she told him, trying to keep her voice even. If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it. She watched as he slumped back down in his chair, his head in his hands.

She stood and walked down the hallway, rounding the corner before pausing to lean back against it and catch her breath. She knew Trevor was just upset about his mother and lashing out, but he didn’t know the first thing about his younger brother. He didn’t even try to understand him. He just attacked him without waiting for an explanation.

Just like Annabelle had done.

She felt tears spring to her eyes. She slid down against the wall, her knees curling up to her chest. She didn’t have Will’s number to call him and find out if he was okay. She didn’t have a car to go looking for him. She had nothing. Nothing that she could offer him.

He probably wouldn’t even want to see her. Trevor had already made it pretty clear she should just go home, and she was dating him. Seeing her would probably be the last thing Will would want, especially after their fight. Especially after the way she had treated him.

“Ma’am?”

She looked up to see a young, pretty nurse standing in front of her, a tender, concerned look on her face. “Are you okay?” the nurse asked gently, crouching down to her level.

Annabelle nodded, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. “Sorry,” she apologized, her voice thick with tears.

“It’s okay. Can I call your parents for you?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

The nurse hesitated, but she nodded slowly and stood, walking away. Annabelle sighed and drew herself to her feet, trying to calm her tears. Crying wouldn’t do Trevor any good, and despite how he was acting at the moment, he needed someone to be strong.

There was a sign indicating the cafeteria was down the left hallway, so she headed in that direction. She passed by dozens of nurses and doctors and crying people that made her want to cry in sympathy, and she knew without a doubt she could never, ever work in a hospital.

She paused as she caught sight of two double doors under a sign that read, “Chapel,” in big block letters. The cafeteria was just a few doors down, but stopping in for a minute to say a quick prayer couldn’t hurt.

She listened at the door to make sure there wasn’t a service going on, then pulled the door open. There were about eight people scattered throughout the dimly lit room. It was smaller than she expected a hospital chapel to be, barely squeezing ten pews in the entire room. There were candles lit on either side of the empty altar, and against the far right wall, a cluster of votive candle holders, most of which were lit.

She started toward the candles to light one for Mrs. Scarlett, pausing as she started to walk by the boy in the back corner. He was around her age, with long dark brown hair that covered his bowed face. His shoulders were slumped, his hands clasped in front of him in his lap. He was immobile; as still as a statue.

Her heart leapt into her throat, astonished.

Will.

All of her worries at seeing him—at him not wanting to see her—vanished as she stared at him. This was Will. No matter what they said to each other, he would always be there for her. And she would always be there for him.

Slowly, afraid of startling him and disturbing the peace in the room, she walked over behind him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. She watched as his head lifted up to look at her. His dark eyes were dulled, the pain in them bringing tears to her eyes. His hand came up and held onto hers, and without letting go, she moved around the pew to sit beside him, their fingers interlacing as she rested her head against his shoulder.

She didn’t know how long they sat there, but at