I really had intended the title Collision Course to be a metaphor. Literal bores me, so I don't quite know how this happened. Ah well . . . I'm hoping after this chapter to get my self-hijacked story back where it was supposed to be headed.

Also, I forgot all about the disclaimer, so: Not even the letters "OC" appear in anything I own.

Collision Course, Chapter 3

Seth could never remember jumping off his skateboard, but he must have, because it rolled on, red and gold flashing in the sun, while he stood where he was, unable to move, unable to breathe.

The sight of blood pooling on the driveway yanked him out of his stupor, and Seth raced the few remaining yards to his mother's car. Ryan's bike lay twisted underneath it. Ryan lay twisted next to it.

By the time Seth reached him, Kirsten and Tony were already crouched next to Ryan's body. The guard was barking information into his cell phone, and Kirsten was moaning "Oh God . . . Ryan, I didn't see you. I didn't see you . . ." over and over. Her hands hovered above Ryan's face, as though she was afraid to touch him.

"Mom—" Seth stopped and began again when he realized that he had not made a sound. "Mom, is he—?"

Kirsten looked up at Seth blankly. Her eyes were glazed with shock and she didn't appear to recognize him.

"Mom!"

"Oh . . . Seth!" She grabbed his outstretched hand, clinging to it desperately as he knelt down next to her. "I didn't see him, baby, I didn't see him . . . I don't understand what happened, how this could have happened . . ."

"Mrs. Cohen," Tony said gently. "The paramedics are on their way."

Kirsten nodded, taking a shaky breath. She dropped Seth's hand and repositioned herself, lifting Ryan's head onto her lap. His eyelids fluttered and he groaned. Seth felt a flash of relief that made him dizzy: Ryan was still alive.

"They said not to move him," Tony warned.

"I know . . ." Kirsten murmured, "but the ground is so hard." She brushed Ryan's hair back from his forehead, then looked in surprise at the blood streaked on his skin, the spread of red on her skirt and her own hand. "I need something—a cloth, a handkerchief. Something. He's bleeding. We have to stop the bleeding. Seth, in my purse . . . "

Seth recognized her tone. Kirsten had snapped from panic into control-mode, calm and efficient, the way he remembered her doing years ago when he split open both knees after a failed skateboard jump. Seth scrambled to the car, grabbed Kirsten's purse and handed it to her. She pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it firmly to the side of Ryan's head. He groaned again.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Kirsten whispered. "I know it hurts . . . I know . . . Seth, call your father."

Seth reached for his cell phone, then realized that it was back by the pool house with the rest of the abandoned road trip supplies.

"Seth! Now!"

Seth looked around wildly.

"Here," Tony offered, registering Seth's desperation and handing over his own phone. "Use mine."

It took three tries to get through. Seth couldn't make his fingers work and he kept misdialing. Finally he heard Sandy's voice on the other end.

"Dad—"

"Hey, Seth. I didn't expect a check-in call this early. I was kidding when I said every hour on the hour--"

"Dad, get home. You have to come home. There was—" Seth swallowed. "There was an accident."

Sandy's voice stiffened. "What happened? Are you okay, Seth? Is anybody hurt? Ryan? Your mother?"

"Yeah . . . Ryan." Seth's voice broke. "Just come home Dad," he pleaded.

"I'm on my way."

Seth returned the cell phone numbly as the police and paramedics arrived. One of the officers helped Kirsten to her feet, pulling her gently when she resisted his efforts to move her away from Ryan. Seth stepped to her side and she wrapped her arms around him.

"My fault," he whispered against her neck, but Kirsten didn't seem to hear him.

Like Seth's, her eyes were fixed on Ryan. She never even reacted when the police officer opened a small notebook, explaining "Ma'am. We have a few questions—"

"I can tell you what happened," Tony interjected. "You don't need to bother Mrs. Cohen now. I saw the accident . . . "

He and the police officer withdrew to the guardhouse, and Kirsten's arms tightened around Seth as the paramedics got to work. They taped a thick bandage to the left side of Ryan's forehead, then slid him onto a backboard and wrapped a cervical collar around his neck. Seth couldn't follow the initials and numbers that they reported tersely into their radio, but he winced when they inserted a needle into the back of Ryan's hand, and when they raised the stretcher to roll it to the ambulance, he automatically moved to follow.

Kirsten's hand on his arm stopped him.

"No, Seth. Wait here for your father. I'll go with Ryan."

"I have to come too," Seth implored. "Mom, please—"

"Honey, I'm sorry. I know you're scared, but only one of us can go. Your dad will bring you to the hospital, I promise." Kirsten squeezed his hand and started to step into the ambulance. She turned at the last minute. "You'll be all right here?"

Seth shook his head. "No."

Tony put a solid arm around Seth's shoulder. "You go, Mrs. Cohen," he urged. "Take care of Ryan. I'll look out for Seth until his dad gets here."

Kirsten mouthed a silent "Thank you" and climbed into the ambulance. It sped away and Seth gasped as the air suddenly seemed to leave his body. He felt Tony's hands ease him to a seat in the open police car. "Put your head between your knees, kid," one of the police officers told him. "Breathe. That's it. Just breathe."

Breathe, Ryan, Seth thought. Just breathe.

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"We haven't finished our examination, but I'm confident that none of his injuries are life-threatening," Dr. Hejduk had said.

He'd come out to the waiting room forty minutes ago, asked some questions about Ryan's medical history, delivered that brief reassurance, and then disappeared to run more tests, promising to be back soon.

Soon.

Seth remembered one of his teachers once declaring, "The reality of time is how we perceive it, not how it's measured by clocks or calendars." Seth had smirked, figuring that was just teacher-speak for "Time sure flies when you're having fun," and its reverse, "Time sure drags when you're in a boring class like this one."

Now, though, he completely understood, because the minutes he spent in the waiting room with his distraught parents and his own fear and guilt threatened to become an eternity.

Forty minutes wasn't soon. It was forever.

"What did he mean 'injuries'?" Seth demanded. He had been pacing, but Sandy had finally forced him to sit down. Now he was rocking back and forth, his hands fitfully gripping and releasing the hem of his jacket. "Why didn't he tell us exactly how Ryan's hurt? And what does 'not life-threatening' mean anyway? A few stitches and some happy dreams painkillers, or really, really serious, but maybe he'll recover by the time he's fifty?"

Kirsten whimpered, and Sandy tightened the arm he'd had around her ever since he arrived.

"Seth . . ." he warned. He nodded at Kirsten over her bowed head, and Seth made himself stop.

He knew his mother blamed herself for what had happened, and he knew that it wasn't her fault. It was his, it was all his, and Seth wanted to tell her that, but he couldn't make himself say the words. If he did, it would all be true. Instead he just reached over and covered one of Kirsten's hands with his own. Her skin felt ice cold.

"He woke up in the ambulance," she murmured. She had already reported that fact to Seth and Sandy, but repeating it seemed to comfort her. "Just for a minute, but he looked at me. He knew I was there."

"Ryan's going to be fine," Sandy assured her. Kirsten focused on him as though he was sharing some secret knowledge, and he forced himself to smile. "On the other hand, his bike? It's definitely down for the count, but he needed a new one anyway, right?"

Kirsten nodded. "Right." She tried to return his smile, but she wasn't quite successful.

"What I can't understand," Sandy mused, "is why he was on the bike at all. Weren't you guys about ready to leave, Seth? Where was Ryan going?"

Seth's hands sketched a vague gesture in the air. "Yeah . . . well . . . yeah, we were, but . . . well . . . Mom wasn't back with the Rover yet . . . and then Ryan and I had, well, sort of a fight, so . . . "

He broke off, grateful, as his cell phone rang. Immediately the hospital volunteer at the information desk looked over and reminded him, "You'll have to take that outside, young man."

Seth flipped the display open. "It's . . . um, it's Lindsay . . . Mom?"

"I can't . . ." Kirsten whispered. She looked terrified. "I can't tell her."

"Do you want me to . . .?" Sandy offered.

Seth squared his shoulders and stood up. "No. I will." He hurried out to the sidewalk in front of the emergency entrance before he could lose his courage.

"Seth, hi!" Lindsay exclaimed as soon as she heard his voice. Her own was light and bouncing with excitement. "Oh, I'm so glad you answered. I've been trying to reach Ryan, but he must have forgotten to turn his cell on again. Is he there? Can you put him on? I need to speak to him . . ."

"Lindsay, look, I'm really sorry . . . Ryan . . . You can't talk to him right now . . ."

"Why not? Is he enforcing his no-talking-on-the-phone-while-driving rule?" Lindsay teased. "Well, tell him to pull over. Or if he's already playing some silly game, make him stop for two minutes . . . He wanted me to call and let him know . . . Wait, why am I still talking to you? Give Ryan the phone. Please?"

Seth got as far as "I can't . . ." and stalled. He didn't want to hear what he had to say next.

"Seth?"

Lindsay waited.

"Seth?" she prompted more adamantly. And she waited. When she finally spoke again, Seth could hear her anxiety. "Seth, what's going on? Why can't I talk to Ryan? Has something happened? What aren't you telling me?"

Seth forced himself to answer. "Ryan was . . . he had an accident, Lindsay. We're at HOAG. The doctors are still with him . . ."

There was a strangled sound, and the noise of the phone being dropped and picked up again.

"Seth? This is Lindsay's mom. Tell me what you just told Lindsay, please."

Seth repeated the message, listened while Renee promised that she and Lindsay would be at the hospital as soon as possible. Then he snapped the phone closed, turned it off for good measure, and finally, just before he went back inside, threw it in the trash.

----------------------------------------------------

"All in all, I'd say he's a very lucky young man," Dr. Hejduk declared, leaning forward in his chair across from the three Cohens.

"Lucky?" Kirsten echoed incredulously. She twisted her rings, fingers working spasmodically, and Dr. Hejduk wrapped both of his hands around hers to still them.

"Lucky, yes," he insisted. "Ryan's injuries could have been much worse, Mrs. Cohen. We've already performed the ACL reconstruction." At their blank looks, he explained, "The ACL is the anterior cruciate ligament of the knee. Ryan's was damaged, so we replaced it with a graft from his own patellar tendon—that's part of the quadriceps muscles. We took a small section of bone along with the graft. That allows bone-to-bone healing, which is faster and stronger than a soft tissue graft."

Seth involuntarily rubbed his own knee and winced.

"Yes, it is rather painful," Dr. Hejduk conceded. "But it's not as serious as it sounds. Ryan will be on crutches for a while, and he will need to wear a knee brace, but with a good rehab program, he should make a full recovery."

"What else?" Sandy prompted when the doctor paused.

"Ryan suffered a clavicle fracture—that's a broken collarbone. He'll have to wear a sling for the next several weeks while it heals. Even at night. The only time it should come off is when Ryan showers. We'll give him medication to help ease the pain, and we'll want to watch for numbness in the arm, but there shouldn't be any complications . . ."

"But he was bleeding . . ." Kirsten recalled. Her eyes looked haunted at the memory, and she touched her own temple. "Here . . . he was bleeding so much."

Dr. Hejduk nodded. "Yes, I know, the cut by his eye. We closed it with eleven stitches. Right now his vision is blurred, but it should clear as he heals."

Kirsten took a choking breath. "Should clear? If it doesn't?"

"If it doesn't we'll have him see a specialist. Ryan does have a number of pretty ugly bruises from contact with the cement, but frankly, my only real concern is his head injury. Initially I didn't think his concussion was that serious, but there's some indication that it's at least grade 2, maybe grade 3."

"What does that mean?" Sandy asked. "I know what a concussion is, but grade 3 . . ."

"It's the most severe form," Dr. Hejduk explained. "Ryan experienced a major head trauma and he was unconscious for a relatively long period of time. He is awake now, and he's relatively alert and responsive, which is good. The dizziness and headache he's suffering are entirely normal. What worries me is that he's presenting symptoms of some short-term memory loss. Ryan doesn't seem to be recall much about the accident. He couldn't answer when I asked him questions about it."

Seth looked up sharply. "But he will, right? He'll remember what happened?"

"I expect so. But the symptoms can last for hours, even weeks. And we will need to watch him closely, because it's always hard to determine the full extent of a brain injury. Not that I anticipate any complications," Dr. Hejduk added hastily. "I don't."

He stood up and smiled at them. "Ryan should be settled in his room now. He's groggy, and he'll still be in some pain until the meds kick in, but if you want to see him--"

Kirsten and Sandy spoke simultaneously. "Yes. Please." "Absolutely." Then Sandy turned to Seth, who was uncharacteristically quiet. "Son? Don't you want to go with us to see Ryan?"

"Yeah . . . Of course. But I mean . . . Maybe we shouldn't all go . . . 'Cause I don't want to, you know, overwhelm him or anything. . ." Seth stammered. He hoped his parents couldn't sense his panic because there was no way to explain why he found the prospect of seeing Ryan equally wonderful and terrifying.

"Perhaps it would be better if you did take turns," Dr. Hejduk suggested. "And keep your visits short for now."

Kirsten reached over and gave Seth a quick kiss. "Your dad and I will go first, sweetie," she said. "You wait here in case Lindsay and her mother come, all right? We won't be long."

Seth watched as his mother stood up and braced herself briefly on the back of her chair. Then Kirsten leaned against Sandy's shoulder, her hand gripping his tightly as they turned to go.

"It's okay, Kirsten," Seth heard his father murmur. "Ryan's going to be okay . . ."

"I want so much to see him," Kirsten whispered brokenly. "But I don't know how I can face him, Sandy . . . After what I did to him . . ."

"Honey, he's not going to blame you. And you can't blame yourself . . ."

Seth really, really wanted somebody to say that to him.

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"Ryan . . ." Kirsten called softly. "Sweetie, we're here." Despite herself, she could feel tears welling at the sight of him, but she brushed them away furiously as he opened his eyes.

Ryan squinted, trying to pull her into focus. "Kir . . . Kirsten. . ." he slurred. "There's . . . two of you. . . 's all right," he added when Kirsten's lips began to tremble. "Like seeing . . . two of you."

Sandy put a reassuring hand on Ryan's uninjured shoulder. "Hey, kid. The doctor said your vision would be blurry for a while. It's nothing to worry about, though. You're going to be fine."

"Not worried . . . See two of you too . . . 's good . . . Need two Sandys . . . Don't want either Kirsten to get . . . lonely."

Sandy laughed and Kirsten managed a tremulous smile as she stroked Ryan's cheek.

"I am so sorry, baby," she whispered. "You have to know I would never, ever hurt you . . . I didn't see you . . ."

Ryan blinked, confused. "'m right here."

"No, Ryan. . . I mean the accident . . . When I was pulling in . . . I just looked away for a second, I swear . . . "

Sandy shook his head. "Not now, sweetheart . . ."

"Don't 'member . . . accident," Ryan sighed, closing his eyes. His jaw muscles tightened momentarily before he looked up again. "Don't cry, Kirsten . . . Please don't . . . Sandy, need both of you . . . take care of her."

"Both . . .?"

Ryan gave a faint grin. He pointed at Sandy, then pointed again just to his left. "Sandy One and . . . Sandy Two . . . Job for . . . Super Sandy."

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With no one to tell him that he should sit down, Seth resumed pacing the perimeter of the waiting room. He was on his third lap when the automatic doors slid open and Lindsay hurtled into his arms, knocking him back a step before he regained his balance.

"Seth—" she gasped. "Where's Ryan? How is he?"

"Let him breathe, Lindsay," Renee urged, peeling her daughter's strangling arms from around Seth's neck.

"He's okay, Lindsay . . . Well, I mean, he's not okay yet, but really, he will be."

"Tell me."

Seth ticked off Ryan's injuries on his fingers, trying hard to make them all sound minor. "Concussion. Stitches in his forehead. Broken collarbone. Torn ligaments in his knee. Miscellaneous bumps and bruises . . . Lindsay, if you'd known Ryan last year, he like almost always had some of those. This is like a return to form for him. . ."

Lindsay flushed angrily. "It's not funny, Seth," she protested.

Seth gave up pretending. "Yeah, no, I know that. Believe me. But he is gonna be all right, Lindsay. Mom and Dad are with him now . . ."

"Let's sit down," Renee suggested. She guided all of them to chairs.

Seth gritted his teeth as he sat. He desperately wanted to keep moving, keep one step ahead of the thoughts that pursued him.

Lindsay pushed her hair back viciously, fixing Seth with eyes that still looked wide and glazed with fear.

"When you say 'all right', you mean like, just the way he was? No scars, no limp, no reminders? Just our Ryan? And how soon will he be all right?"

"God, Lindsay, I don't know," Seth answered helplessly. "I only know what the doctor said . . ."

"And you didn't ask? There are questions you should ask, Seth. Where's the doctor? I'll find out . . ."

Renee took her daughter's hand. "Lindsay, honey, relax. And don't snap at Seth. This isn't his fault, you know." She turned to Seth, but he abruptly bent to tie his shoe, avoiding her apologetic smile.

"I don't know anything, really," Lindsay muttered. "Seth, what happened? Were you and Ryan in a car accident or something? Because you're okay . . ."

Seth wanted to argue that he was anything but okay, but before he could answer Sandy returned to the waiting room. He immediately swept Seth up into a giant bear hug.

"Dad!" Seth's shock was muffled by his father's jacket.

"Ryan's all right then, Sandy?" Lindsay demanded. "Really? He's really all right?"

"I'd say so. He's making jokes about superheroes," Sandy reported, grinning. "Feel those muscles, Seth. For the record, I am—" Sandy released his son. He planted his feet, arms akimbo. "--Super Sandy! With double the powers of mere mortal men. Of course you already knew that."

Lindsay laughed in relief. Then, to her surprise, the giggles twisted in her throat and turned into sobs. "I don't know . . . why I'm crying . . ."

"Nerves, honey. It's natural," Renee cradled her daughter. "You'll feel better when you see Ryan."

Lindsay lifted a tear-stained face from her mother's arms. "Sandy, when can I--?"

"Kirsten is still there, but she's just waiting with him because she doesn't want Ryan to be alone. So if you want to go in with Seth, Lindsay . . ."

"No," Seth said hastily. "I mean . . . You can go first, Lindsay. Alone. You know, the girlfriend prerogative rule, all that. And you and Ryan . . . you'll want privacy. So . . . I can wait."

Sandy shot Seth a quizzical look. "Okay, then, Seth. If you're sure . . . Come on, Lindsay. I'll take you to Ryan's room."

"And I'll get coffee," Seth offered. "Right? Caffeine for everyone? This stuff . . ." he motioned to the half-empty Styrofoam cups on the side table. "Old, cold, worthless . . . So I'll just . . . get some fresh . . . and maybe some muffins, okay?"

Still babbling, studiously avoiding his father's appraising eyes, Seth escaped to the cafeteria.

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Kirsten crossed quietly to the door and enveloped Lindsay in a hug when she entered Ryan's room.

"Oh, honey, I'm so glad you're here . . . Where's Seth?"

"He's giving me some private time with Ryan." Lindsay registered Kirsten's haggard face, the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her throat began to close again. "Is something wrong? Sandy said Ryan would be all right . . .?"

"He will be, sweetie. I'm just . . . Never mind . . . I'll explain it all later. Come on. Ryan's almost asleep, but I know he'll want to see you."

Lindsay braced herself, then followed Kirsten to the bed.

"Don't let all . . . this . . . scare you," Kirsten whispered, indicating the IV tubes, the bandages, sling and cast that marked the injuries on Ryan's left side. She slid Lindsay's hand gently onto Ryan's, then backed toward the door. "If Seth can be generous and give you private time, I guess I can too . . . Just keep this visit short, though, okay sweetie?"

Lindsay nodded and moved closer to Ryan as Kirsten left. She jumped a little when she heard his faint question.

"Kirsten . . . gone?"

Lindsay ran a finger down the side of his face. "Yes . . ."

"So you . . . can kiss me?" Ryan's eyes opened and one corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile.

Lindsay beamed at him. "Oh, yes . . ." She started to lean down, but Ryan's eyes widened and he raised his hand, pressing two fingers against her lips.

"Two," he said.

"Two?"

"Two kisses . . . One from . . . each of you."

Lindsay cocked her head, confused, but then she relaxed. Ryan was still smiling, almost mischievous, and his eyes had that intense, searching expression that made her believe he could see directly into her soul. "Two, Or maybe . . . three," she agreed, punctuating the words with kisses. "Or three hundred . . . Or . . . as many as you want."

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Seth had been keeping his distance from his parents in the waiting room. He hoped that they were so engrossed in conversation with Renee that they wouldn't notice his pointless forays to vending machines, the way he rearranged the magazine stand half a dozen times, or the fact that he voluntarily cleaned up all the abandoned cups and napkins and crumpled newspapers. But he knew his behavior couldn't go unremarked forever.

"Seth . . . hey, Seth," Sandy called, patting the chair next to him. "Come here, son. I know how scary all this has been, but you need to relax. You're acting a little manic even by Seth Cohen standards. . . "

"Dad, manic? So not a flattering description of what I like to think of as my unique energy . . ."

"Is something wrong, son?"

Seth choked. "Wrong? Well, yeah, you think? Accident? Ambulance? Hospital? Doctors? Any of this ringing a bell here. . .?" He knew he was on the verge of hysteria and that his parents were staring at him with mounting concern, but Seth couldn't help himself.

When Lindsay came out of Ryan's room, he'd have no more excuses. He'd have to go in. And he had not thought of one single thing he could say, one thing he could do, that would begin to make any of this right.

His only hope was that the doctor had said Ryan didn't remember the accident. So maybe he wouldn't remember what had happened before the accident either. Seth knew it was selfish, but he wanted those memories lost for as long as possible. He needed time to determine how he could possibly explain what he'd done, and to plan what he could do to make Ryan forgive him.

Maybe, he thought, he should start by confessing to his parents. He wasn't kidding himself; Seth knew perfectly well that they'd be shocked and furious and deeply disappointed and then furious all over again. But they'd know, they'd have to know, that he had never intended to hurt Ryan. And eventually, maybe, they'd help Seth figure how to salvage their friendship.

If he ever could.

He turned to his mother, the words "This was all my fault" ready in his mouth. But before he could say them, his eyes filled with unexpected tears.

"Oh, sweetie. It's okay . . . it is," Kirsten crooned, rubbing his back. "We should have taken you in with us. You'll feel better once you see Ryan, honey. I did."

"Just don't expect to be Super Seth in there," Sandy teased. "Ryan knows who has the super powers in this family . . ."

"No . . . Mom, dad, that's not it . . . I . . ."

"Your turn, Seth," Lindsay called. She slid into the chair next to Kirsten, her smile suggesting that she knew a delicious secret. "But Ryan's fading fast. You better hurry before he's completely asleep."

Seth swiped the tears from his eyes. "Yeah. Right . . . Or . . . maybe I should just let him get some rest now. . . you know, see him later."

The dubious look returned to Sandy's face, the one he got when he was puzzling a particularly difficult case. "Go on, Seth," he urged. "I'm sure Ryan wants to see you."

"Yeah, right, okay," Seth agreed, with what he hoped was appropriate enthusiasm. "Just for a minute . . ."

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Ryan's eyes were closed when Seth entered his room, and for a moment he thought he'd been reprieved. He could just stand inside the door for a while, watch numbers flash on the monitors while Ryan slept, and then go out. Visit accomplished.

But Ryan's eyes fluttered open.

"Hey . . . hey, bro," Seth stammered. "I just wanted to, um, see for myself that you're all right . . . and yeah, I can see that . . . well, I mean considering the circumstances . . . but I know you need your rest, so I can, um, leave if you want to sleep."

Ryan continued to look at Seth, but he said nothing.

"So . . . how do you feel?" Ryan grimaced and Seth took a step back, shoving his shaking hands in his pockets. "Yeah, stupid question. You feel like shit . . . Anyway . . . so . . .you made Dad's day with that Super Sandy remark. He'll probably have it put on a t-shirt. And Mom . . . well, I know she still, like, blames herself--"

Seth stopped abruptly. He hadn't meant to mention the accident at all.

"Not her fault," Ryan said. His voice sounded hollow and distant.

"No . . . I mean, yeah . . . what's not her fault?"

"Accident."

Seth swallowed hard. "You remember that? 'Cause the doctor said . . ."

"Just . . . didn't want to . . . talk to doctor . . . Not his business."

"Okay, so . . . You remember . . . You remember everything?"

Ryan nodded.

Seth stepped forward resolutely. "Then you know it was all my fault. This . . . everything," he said. "God, Ryan, I am so, so sorry. Uber sorry . . . It totally makes me sick to think I did this to you . . . And I'll understand if you never forgive me for getting you hurt . . . I mean, I'll never forgive me . . ."

"You . . . didn't."

"I didn't . . . what?"

"Hurt . . . Accident was . . . my fault. Not Kirsten's . . . not yours."

Seth released a shuddering breath. "Then we're okay?" he asked, limp with relief. "Man, 'cause Ryan, this has been eating me up inside . . . I mean I know I was a total ass, and I deserve, like, all seven levels of hell, even a few extra, but I promise, I will make this up to you somehow . . . whatever you want . . ."

Seth reached down and covered Ryan's hand with his own. Immediately, Ryan pulled away, clenching his fist. His gaze flickered up, empty and cold, locking on Seth's puzzled face. Then Ryan's eyes closed and he turned his head.

"Get out, Seth . . ." The words were flat, far away.

"But, Ryan . . . what? You just said that you didn't blame me for the accident."

"Not . . . accident. Blame you for . . . not being my friend. Can't . . . forgive that. Ever. Get . . . out."

Seth opened his mouth, but there was nothing he could say. He waited for a moment, but Ryan's face was set in stone, and he didn't open his eyes again. Finally, silently, Seth left, closing the door softly behind him.

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