Finding The Line Between Love And Hate Ch 02

Please read the previous chapter for Finding the Line Between Love and Hate, you can find it if you visit my page since the whole title wouldn't fit in the box when i added ch. 2 so from now on the title will be Finding the Line Btw Love and Hate Ch.-. Also, next week the third chapter for By Night, My love will be posted. I'm still on the fence about continuing this story but if i get positive feedback then i will continue. I hope this is clearer than the last chapter and I hope you all enjoy :)

***********

I woke up the next morning with a rip-roaring headache, but thankfully no urge to get friendly with the porcelain throne. Though I'm sure there was a dead rat in my mouth. What else would taste like death gone wrong? For the hundredth time, I promised myself I wouldn't get drunk again, hell I should have it tattooed on me for real. I once stupidly told James my musings after a night out at a club last year and the next week we went out and got hammered again. He had Don't Get Drunk stickered to my forearm. He let me believe that I got it for real; that bastard even had photos of me half passed out on a tattoo artist's table. He only told me after I made an appointment to get it removed. Best prank ever, but I'll never admit that to him.

Thinking about James, I thought back to my odd dream. Maybe I should classify it as a nightmare. Seeing him with blood over his face wasn't something I'd ever want to see in real life. I was pretty sure that I had dreamed him bleeding, but I just needed to see him to make sure. Not even thinking about it, I tried to jump out of bed but cried out as the sore muscles in my neck pulled.

Holy fuck, what was that?

I gingerly began to sit up, careful not to jolt any other part of my body. I still wore last night's dress but since it had a metal zipper down the front, I pulled it down. To my shock, I saw horizontal bruises along my upper chest area across my abdomen to my hips. It was almost as if I had been bruised by a seatbelt...

Oh that little shit!

I'm surprised I didn't scream down the apartment right then and there; I would have if my whole body hadn't been so sore.

Carefully, I swung my legs over the edge of the high bed and slid out to a half standing, half hunched over positions. Bracing my back with my arm, I went to open the door and go find James so I could murder him. That little bitch got into a fucking accident, didn't fucking call the cops, and brought me home when I could have had a concussion or worst. I was going to kick his ass!

"Harley, you're awake." James voice was deadpan as he raised his head from his hands and looked up at me from his position on the couch. I saw some blood stains on his white shirt but his face was clean. Well, clean except for the nasty looking gash on his forehead where three stitches held the torn skin closed. That bastard took himself to the hospital and left me to die in my bed. Forget my earlier sentiments; I want to see him dead now but specifically at my hands.

"You wanna tell me why I wake up with a sore neck and bruises down my body?" I gestured down my half nude body. James was the only man I was comfortable showing my body to, after all he had seem me at my worst.

"I'm really sorry-" he began, but I cut him off with a violent slash of my hand.

"You're sorry? You're SORRY!?" I screamed at him, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him to emphasis my point. "You got in a car crash and you didn't take me to the hospital. I could have gotten a concussion or broken some shit or something and you left me here while you went to the hospital, you motherfucking bitch!" The pillows didn't sufficiently express my anger so I moved onto the magazines and books lying around on the coffee table.

"What the - Harley, dammit!" James ducked and weaved, using the pillows I threw at him to shield himself. "Calm down, please. I can explain," James implored, putting his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. I was tired and hurting so I sat down in the armchair across form him and glared at him, waiting for him to explain.

James sat down too, and gulped. I didn't make it easier for him; if my stare could kill, his ashes would already be tucked inside an urn.

"I-I guess I had a little too much to drink and I crashed into another car. I didn't think but I ran, Harley. I had to. You know I can't get involved with the police and I didn't know what else to do. And just to make it clear, I didn't go to hospital either. They would ask too many questions." At my huff of disbelief, James shot up from the sofa and knelt at my feet. He took my hands and held both in his. "Please, believe me, Harley. I did my stitches by myself but not before I looked after you. I stayed with you all night and made sure that you were just passed out from the alcohol and not suffering a concussion."

I jerked my hands away from him and folded them under by breast.

"And what the hell qualifies you for a doctor, hmm?"

James looked sheepish as he answered. "I was pre-med and volunteering at a hospital before I dropped out of college. I know the basics, but swear if you had been seriously hurt, I would have taken you to the hospital. Please believe me." Burrowing his head in my lap and grabbing my hips, he begged for forgiveness. I felt wetness on my thigh and knew he was crying. I was still mad at him but with a frustrated sigh, I ran my hands through his hair.

"I forgive you but I'm still mad as fuck. What happened to the other car, James?" I knew James; he was leaving out the worst. He had this thing where he wouldn't tell anyone the bad news until they dragged it out of him. It was as if it wasn't voiced, then it didn't happen.

He mumbled something against my thigh, knowing I wouldn't be able to hear. I fisted his hair and jerked just a bit, then soothed with caressing strokes.

"If you tell me, it'll go a long way in getting back in my good graces."

After a moment of silence, James answered in a whisper.

"I drove the other car off the road. I didn't look back long enough to know what happened. I just ran."

A drop of the pin could be heard in the ensuing silence. My heartbeat stuttered and stopped, then began to pound. My money wouldn't get James out of this, and his history with the law wouldn't make things any better. He was already hiding from the police, so if they found out that he injured another driver, or worst killed him, James would be taken straight to jail and probably put on the death penalty. He would be taken away from me.

"Harley, please say something."

Closing my eyes, I resumed stroking his hair.

"We'll get through this. I'll take care of you. We'll go out today and see what we can find out about the person you hit. We'll do this together okay?" I pulled on his head until he looked at me. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark bags under his eyes, but he smiled at me with shinning eyes.

"Thank you, thank you," he chanted. Grabbing his cheeks, I touched my forehead to his.

"So where do I start? What kind of car was it?"

That question made him jerk away and he stood up to pace in front of me. Shit, he was withholding more from me. I had this feeling that he knew who he hit. Please god, let them be alive, please god.

"A Plymouth Baracuda."

For the second time that morning, and within minutes of each other, my heartbeat stopped and the breath hitched in my throat. This was not good for my heart, all this stopping and starting and then pounding.

Not Tristan, please not my Tristan.

"Take a quick shower and get dressed. We'll go around the hospitals and see if he's there." My voice was cold but I couldn't help it. James knew I had a minor (okay, MAJOR) crush on him. Not only that, Tristan was a good guy. He volunteered, did pro bono shit, he probably even called his mother every day and saved small animals and clichéd stuff like that.

"Harley-"

"I said get dressed."

"Juliet called. Tristan's at Grace Memorial."

Nodding, I headed to my room to take a shower and get dressed. I want to run to Tristan, in my underwear and all, but I couldn't go the hospital looking like I did. It was only a five minute shower that included brushing my teeth under scorching water. Dressing conservatively for once in a plain t-shirt and jeans, I walked back into the living room and grabbed up my purse. James was already waiting for me, dressed in clean jeans and a dark shirt. He had been smart enough to comb his hair over his head wound.

I wanted to rush, but my body would scream out every time I made a sudden movement. When we got to my private garage, James's banged up Bentley was parked beside my Camaro. The front was a crumpled mess, the hood of the car standing up at an odd angle. Without a word, James got into my Camaro. I rarely let anyone drive my baby, but I was too sore to do anything but sit and stand. Sliding into the passenger seat, I gingerly belted myself in and settled back.

Revving up the car, James tried to talk to me. "Harley-"

"Please don't talk. I need to see what happened to Tristan." I should be feeling anger but I just felt numb and panicked. It was wrong to be helping James now but he was my best friend. I couldn't just hand him to the police. I knew I would do this no matter how fucked up his situation got. But that didn't mean I had to like it. Going back to my childhood habit, I began biting off the red polish on my nails as I looked out the window. Thankfully, James stayed quiet and drove as quickly as he could through the midmorning traffic and got us to the hospital in forty-five minutes.

We didn't say anything to each other as we headed for the help desk. James spoke for us, and the receptionist directed James to the ICU. I quietly followed him to the elevator but I refused to acknowledge him. We were met by Juliet and a bunch of Tristan's friends and colleagues. Darren and his new bride were absent since they had gone straight to their honeymoon. Juliet rushed at James and started blabbering, saying how horrible it was and how she was glad he was here for her.

After Juliet finally kissed enough of James's stoic face, she noticed me with a slight frown.

"Harley, um, you didn't have to come." She looked uncomfortably around at the room full of concerned people who all loved Tristan. For all she knew, we had only talked a few times in passing and Tristan didn't particularly like me. What she didn't know was that I loved him more than all the people here combined.

Before James could say something, I asked coolly "What happened to Tristan?"

She frowned but answered me nonetheless. "It was a hit and drive. Some car rear ended him and drove him off the road. His car crashed into some trees but his body is relatively unhurt. But it's his face we're worried about the most."

"What happened to his face?" I croaked, helpless to keep the trembling from my voice.

"God, it's terrible. The windshield shattered and pieces of the glass cut his face. The doctors are still running tests and he'll be out of surgery in a few hours. We're all waiting for that." Juliet hugged herself to James, who I noticed wouldn't look at me. I nodded my head at Juliet then walked away to take a seat in one of the empty chairs.

I'd wait the whole day if I had to, but I had to see Tristan or I'd go crazy with the thoughts in my head. To pass the time, I watched the other people waiting on Tristan's doctor. From snippets of their conversation, I found out that about five of them were from his firm, all friends of his and his boss was supposed to drop in in a few hours. His parents had been called but it would take them time to come here since they lived in a little town in Texas. The other people were Tristan's friends.

Throughout the morning, James came to me about five times and tried to talk to me, but I waved him away every time. Juliet finally became good for something since she would get James away from me after every overture he made. But she had to go to work, so around one in the afternoon, she left but not before finagling a promise from James to keep her in the loop. James came and sat with me after that.

"I asked Juliet and she said that they don't know who hit him," James whispered as he handed me a can of Pepsi. I was still angry at him, but I'd accept a can of Pepsi from the devil himself.

"We'll need to get you a new car. You know what to do?" I asked, taking a sip and savoring it in my mouth. The burn of the cold liquid down my throat was almost pleasurable.

"Yah, I know what to do," came his answer. I merely nodded, knowing by the end of the day his Bentley would disappear and an identical one would be replaced in the garage. With James's varied and checkered past, he knew a lot of people and had a lot of strings to pull.

Throughout the hours, I replayed every minute that I spent with Tristan. The first time I met him I was so tongue tied, that Juliet had to tell him my name even after he held his hand out to me. The parties I saw him at, the women I saw on his arms, the gossip I soaked up with every inch of my attention, they all played around in my head. I played it over again and again, and every time I would cast myself differently. I was charming in my daydreams, witty even. He kissed me, too and that fantasy played in my head at least a dozen times. These thoughts kept all the bad conjectures about his condition away from me.

Now you might think it's weird of me to be that obsessed with him after just a few meetings with him. Add that to the fact that he disliked me, it's crazy to think I loved him. I didn't even believe in that love at first sight shit. With me, it was lust at first sight. After I read up on him and grilled his girlfriends, I slowly began to fall in love with him. But I don't think that I realized my love until James told me what happened.

After an endless wait, the doctor finally came out. For some reason, I was frozen in my seat when everyone else surged towards the doctor and surrounded him. James tried to take me hand but I pulled it away.

"Please find out what happened."

With a resigned sigh, James joined the crowd. I looked down at my empty Pepsi can, rolling it around in my cold hands. My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, protesting what I had fed it for the past day. Alcohol, some accidentally swallowed toothpaste, and a can of Pepsi was all I had for the past 24 hours. And before that, the whole month consisted of a diet of only veggies and fruits, with some sneaked in junk food so that I could fit in my skin tight dress.

"Harley."

I looked up at James' drawn face and gasped at the look in his eyes. I jerked up, mindless of my protesting muscles, intending to confront the doctor or see Tristan or something. But James grabbed my arm so hard; he swung me into his arms. Struggling for a few minutes, I only stilled when he hissed my name and dragged me into a deserted hallway.

"Dammit, Harley, calm down." James shook me again to get me to focus on him.

I grabbed his collar and met his eyes. "Tell me what the fuck is going on!" I demanded.

"They did a lot of extensive surgery on his leg since it was crushed by the door but the doctor says that it'll be fine. He'll limp for a while but with some therapy, he'll be fine."

"James, please, I'm not stupid. Get to the worst part, please. Juliet said something about his face. What happened to his face?" I didn't give a damn if he looked like Harvey Dent after Joker had his way with him, I just didn't want Tristan to suffer the pain of it.

James gulped but answered me relatively quickly. "He's blind. A glass shard went through his left eye and it's damaged beyond repair. The other, they think it might be salvageable. Harley, where are you going?"

I couldn't stand to look at James anymore. I needed to be alone since I couldn't even go see Tristan. I wasn't family, I wasn't a friend. I don't think the hospital had any visiting hours for a minor nuisance like me.

"Call Juliet and stay with her for a few nights. I can't handle seeing you right now," I whispered but James heard.

"Are you going to..." he let the question trail off but I knew what he was asking. Our survivalist nature had no morals.

"I told you I won't say anything. Just get rid of the car. I need to go home." I didn't even turn around to tell him this; I just walked towards the elevator.

It would be impossible to stay around the hospital when I couldn't see Tristan. Getting in my Camaro, I pulled out into the streets and drove around aimlessly. I just wanted to crawl into my bed and cry over Tristan. I had no right but as the saying goes, the mind is strong and the flesh is weak. But then my mind wasn't all that strong, not when it was concerned with Tristan Gage.

By the time I finally got home, the Bentley had disappeared. Instead of crawling in my bed, I went online and transferred enough funds from my bank account into James for him to buy a new car. Although James made many investments with my money, he never took any of the profits. He never asked for money but I always made sure to transfer enough funds into his account to keep him sleeping on diamonds if need be.

Afterwards, I made myself a cup of noodles and ate it without tasting any of it. While I was eating, I grabbed up my phone and checked for any calls or texts. As always, there were only some missed calls from James, one from my banker, and another from an unknown number. Which reminded me, I needed to inform James to keep me up on Tristan news. Sending a quick text to tell me everything, I finally headed to bed. I took two aspirins, hoping that would help with the pain before I crawled into the middle of my bed.

There were just so many thought running through my head that I couldn't go to sleep. Surgery was going to be expensive and Tristan's insurance might not cover all of it. I knew he had two other brothers, a younger and older one, but I didn't know what they did. His dad was a retired police officer, his mom a homemaker, so I knew they didn't have a lot of money to spare. If that was the case, I had to find some way to give him the money for surgery or whatever he might need.

Without his eyesight, Tristan would never be able to draw a design again. He couldn't do what he loved and I felt partially guilty for that. I might not have driven but James and I had done this a million times before. We'd go out, get drunk, and drive home drunk. Until yesterday, James had had a stellar drunk driving record. If I had spoken up before, maybe James would have called a cab. Maybe if I hadn't flirted with James to make Juliet angry, he wouldn't have some home with me. We wouldn't have gotten drunk and he would have gone home with Juliet. I would have gone home, all alone, but so would Tristan.

What if, what if, what if ... there were so many different scenarios and I would have done anything to have let it turn out differently than this. But the night ended with Tristan losing his sight for life and I just wanted to cry at the loss. The only thing I could be thankful for was that he was alive. He was alive and breathing and it was a blessing I clung to.