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Tommy blinks his eyes open, not for the first time–but this time at least, he feels like he's actually awake and not drowning under a cocktail of pain meds. He takes a breath of overly sanitised hospital air and looks around slowly, well aware that every single alarm in his body is warning him to stay put.
"Hey," a female voice says and he blinks a few times before she appears in his line of sight.
"H-hey," he says to Abby.
To Abby?!
"Wait," he frowns, and it hurts. "What year is this?"
She laughs and the crystal clear sound echoes in the hospital room.
"I think it's the year you update your emergency contact."
He groans and every vibration that goes through his skull makes him regret the decision.
"What happened?"
"You crashed your car."
He pauses as his heart jumps into his throat.
“I what?”
“Well, a delivery truck crashed into you, more precisely. The driver had a heart attack.”
He vaguely remembers driving home from Harbor, a green light, an intersection, and then-
"Casualties?" he asks, and Abby answers quickly.
"No," she says kindly, and Tommy allows himself to briefly close his eyes in relief. "EMS were on scene fast enough to revive the driver. From what I’ve heard he earned himself a lifetime prescription for beta-blockes.”
“Okay,” he whispers, still wrapping his head (and his headache) around the whole idea.
“I mean, really, the only casualty is the night of sleep that never was while I spent 8 hours driving from Napa,” Abby said teasingly, bringing him back to Earth. “That was right after telling my husband that movie night was cancelled since my ex fiancé might be dying."
"Uh,” he nods carefully. “Sorry about that."
"He's very understanding.”
"Well," he starts, voice filled with fake confidence and a whole lot of painkillers. "Thanks for stopping by, Abby-"
"You really think I'm going to let you off this easy?" She raises an eyebrow.
"I mean, I can try-"
"It's been nine years, Tommy."
"It slipped my mind-" he says, but she talks over him.
"--And I have it on pretty good authority that someone else deserved that call–I mean if he hadn't cut you out of that damn car himself, who knows when he would have heard about this–"
Tommy breathes in. The world stops.
"Oh, god-"
"God hasn't been worried sick about you for the last 16 hours, Tommy. Evan Buckley has."
He sees it, in his mind's eye, Abby and Evan sitting next to each other in an emergency waiting room, truly wishing for his survival only in hopes of tearing him a new one.
"Wha- what did you t- what did he tell you?"
"That I'm not the only one into himbos, for starters," she quips.
"God," he mumbles, his hand reaching up, IV and all, in an attempt to massage his eyelids. He stops just short of rubbing his swollen excuse for a face as he realises that’s probably the worst idea. "I can't believe he told you that."
"It's Buck. Of course he told me that. He also told me about every single detail of the things I've missed in the last five years since we've talked."
"Of course he did."
"The dead brother was a surprise."
"Wasn't it for everyone?" he asks, finally making eye contact.
"And you thought your family was weird."
"Gosh, you said it."
She smiles at him and he wonders if maybe she missed this a little. The banter. The friendship. The everything he'd ruined.
"So, what happened?" she finally asks, the kindness in her voice back again. As if Tommy deserved any of it.
"I don't know," he mumbles, and instantly knows it's the wrong answer.
"Well, I mean, I get it. He's sweet, he's kind, he’s-he’s gotten so bulked up and well, we both know he’s pretty good at what he does-"
"Please, don't-"
"Well don't sleep with my ex and break his heart, Tommy."
"You broke it first-"
"My mother passed."
"I'm-" Fuck. His train of thought crashes entirely. "I'm sorry. That I wasn't–I should have been there for you." The apology is way past due.
"It's fine,” she says, without spite. “Buck was."
It's not a barb, just a fact. He doesn't look away.
"It's fine," she says again. "She loved you and most of the time she forgot you'd left. You're forgiven."
"Alright," he says, doubtfully.
"So," she starts again, raising his eyebrows at him. "Buck."
He sighs. There's no way out of this and he knows it. He's tied up to too many machines to make a run for it and he’s fairly sure he’s at least busted a knee.
"He asked me to move in with him."
"I see. So it didn't even take a wedding for you to walk out on this one?" she smirks and he accepts his penance.
"Have you always been this mean?"
"Always, when I'm sleep deprived."
He laughs. His ribs hurt. He takes it. He eyes the wedding ring on her finger and thinks about all that could have been.
"I freaked out," he says, in a breath.
She sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for his hand.
"Okay."
Christ, it's even worse when she's kind to him.
"I said shitty things."
She hums. "And so did he, right?"
His eyes meet hers. "He really has told you everything, hasn’t he?"
"We don't have many secrets left from each other, Buck and I."
He makes a face. "I'd like to delete that from my memory, please.”
She laughs. "So. Question is, are you in love with him?"
He sighs again and tries to shrug but has to fight the bruised feeling of his everything.
"What do you think?" he asks painfully.
She smiles.
“I think you never committed domestic terrorism for me-”
“God, just unplug me now, Abby, it’s my time to go-”
Abby laughs again.
“Nice try. As if I’d let you break our engagement and then still let you end up miserable.”
“You’re like the hospital ghost of Christmas past-”
“It’s June, how concussed are you?”
“My head hurts, Abby.”
“Worse than the total agony of being in love?”
There’s a beat and he squints because he just can’t believe she just quoted his favourite movie at him.
“You’re the worst.”
“Update your emergency contact, Kinard,” she says as she squeezes his hand, stands and walks out of the room, a satisfied smile on her lips.
Tommy blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, Evan’s right there, watching him, his fingers threaded through Tommy’s--but only the tips. As if Evan had been scared it was asking for too much.
Tommy realizes right then that he never wants Evan to think he’s too much ever again.
“Hey,” he whispers, mostly because his throat is parched.
Evan startles and looks at him eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights–probably like Tommy in that truck’s headlights–before Evan reaches out for a glass of water and offers Tommy the straw. Tommy tries to convey his appreciation in a blink as he slowly drinks.
When Evan has carefully set the glass down again, Tommy opens his mouth before he has the chance to chicken out.
“So, how’d you like to be my emergency contact?”