Song is "Cross My Mind" by Arizona.

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For a moment, I just sat there. Did I hear her correctly?

"Shelby is alive?" I swallowed any doubt back down my throat as my mother nodded.

"Yes, she's—" she started.

But I quickly cut her off. "How? I... I heard her dying. The monitor. The other doctors were trying to save her." There was no possible way, was there? "I don't. I don't understand."

My head shook of its accord and hurt, like hell. Only there was no rationalizing with what I had seen, heard, felt. Knew to be true. That Shelby had died. Was dead.

And now all of it was wrong. So wrong.

I cringed at the small parts about last night I could remember. Drinking. The covered bridge. Lindsay. Leaving and apparently crashing Bert.

I was such an idiot. Only repudiating the facts wouldn't change a thing.

My body relaxed for the first time in a day as my heart skipped. By that worried look on Mom's face, she wasn't telling me everything. But I was ignoring it for a little while longer and relishing in the basic fact.

Shelby was alive.

I didn't wait for her to answer, throwing my legs over the side of the bed instead. The only thing tethering me to this room was the IV pinching my hand as I attempted to stand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." My mom pushed me back by my good shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?"

I had to make sure she was all right. I had to make sure it was true, that she was alive and witness it with my very own eyes.

"I have to see her," I said, and tried moving past her again. But my injured knee wobbled and almost sent me toppling to the floor.

"Sebastian, stop!" My mom had to help me with sitting back onto the thin mattress. "You, are not in any shape to be going anywhere. And anyway, she's in surgery right now. What are you going to do, barge into the OR?" She cocked an eyebrow, daring me to counter.

"No. But surgery. What?" I had asked as three sharp knocks pounded at the door.

Mom exaggerated a sigh and shook her head. Guess she wanted to explain what all had happened and was as equally aggravated by the interruption.

"Come in," my mother shouted and tilted her head toward the door awaiting a response. It was probably a nurse needing to check my vitals.

The door creaked open, revealing Sheriff Atkins. My sisters weren't lying when they said he wanted to see me, apparently.

"Hi, Gary. What are you doing here?" my mother rounded the bed and gave the mammoth of a man a big hug. A disarming tactic that she used underhandedly whenever situations arose. And if the sheriff of the county made a special trip just to visit with me, it wasn't a good one.

As round as he was tall, the sheriff removed his brown hat while extricating himself from my mom. "Brenda." He paused and nodded toward me. "David is in the hall, and we were hoping to have a word with Sebastian." His sudden shifting on his heels proved he was uncomfortable even being here. That was obvious, seeing as he and his wife had been good friends with my mom for years. "With your permission of course."

"Huh?" Mom forced a smile, but unless someone was accustomed to all her feigned expressions, they would have assumed it as genuine. "Well, as long as Chris—Tom's brother, you know the lawyer, is allowed to listen in. Just to make sure there are no issues at all." She waited for his face to fall before adding, "No one wants any problems, Gary. Especially after..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced sagely at me.

The sheriff scrunched his nose, jaw set. He'd played his hand and was just beat by a five-foot-eight, maybe a hundred and thirty-five-pound woman more than half his size. Compensating the only way he could, he faked a half-grin, accompanied by a loud grumble. "No. Of course. Whatever you feel you need to do."

Mom's smile, purely of satisfaction, grew. She marched toward the door and stuck her head into the hallway, waving at someone.

Within a few seconds, Chris Ryan, Kyle's uncle, stepped through the doorway. The whites of his eyes had an understandable red tinge, reflective of the aftermath from yesterday. Following right on his heels was David Clark, Owen's dad and also the mayor of this fine town.

"Hello, Sebastian," Mr. Clark greeted and stood beside the sheriff.

Chris didn't even look my way and instead shook hands with both of the men before settling at my bedside with a small notebook and pen handy. Sheriff Atkins cleared his throat to speak when Chris interrupted, "Just so you gentlemen know, I'm here as Sebastian's legal counsel. And even though you want to ask him questions about last night, I can, and I will advise him not to answer if I feel it is necessary."

The even mood of the room from before changed in an instant. Now the bristling expressions and defensive stances from the other two men were noticeable.

"Of course," Sheriff Atkins second go around of uttering those two words were strained. Gruff. Irritated.

Mom gave me a warning sideways glance. The look of watch what you say was evident.

"So, Sebastian," the sheriff started. "How are you feeling?"

My shoulder's slumped. "Fine, I guess." That was a total lie. I was anything but fine, only that was of my own doing.

"A little banged up is all," my mother added to my vague statement and cocked an eyebrow in my direction. Maybe I should have elaborated more?

The conversation continued with the obvious questions.

"How did you procure the alcohol?" the sheriff asked.

I lied again, claiming I found the case of beer at my house. That answer in itself earned me a tight squeeze of my hand while Mom held onto it. That right there was a discussion for later.

"And how many did you have?" he asked again.

I stifled a laugh and shrugged as an answer. From what I could recall, which wasn't much, I lost count after eight. Maybe it was nine or ten? It might have been even more than that.

Sheriff Atkins scribbled something on a small piece of paper. "Do you remember anything from when you left the covered bridge last night?"

"Nope," was my automatic reply.

His body tensed while huffing at my response. "Do you have any idea how fast you were going?"

I shook my head. How the hell would I have known that if I couldn't even remember leaving there altogether?

My mom's shrill ringtone halted any further questions. "This is Doctor Birch," she answered after two rings and held a finger to keep anyone in the room from speaking. "Okay." She paused, listening intently before her gaze found mine. "She's out of surgery."

At the sight of her small smile, some of the heaviness in my chest lessened. She was talking about Shelby.

"...Okay, well, I'll be right down to check on her. Thanks, Debbie, for letting me know." My mom promptly pocketed her phone again and spun to face the others. "That was about Shelby. Are we almost finished here?"

"Oh, yes." Sheriff Atkins cleared his throat while scanning the sheet of paper in his hands. "We, just." He sighed, looking at Mr. Clark to continue.

"Here's the thing, Brenda. Sebastian will have to be charged." The mayor stood as tall as he could. My mom and I gasped at the news, forcing him to elaborate. "But we want to make this as painless as possible."

Charged? As in jail? What the...?

"What are you suggesting?" Chris asked and tapped his pen a few times on top of his notebook.

"We understand how hard this has been on everyone and Sebastian is a good kid. He's never been in trouble before. So." The sheriff forced the air from his lungs. "All that is needed is for him to come down to the station. He'll be charged and then you can bond him out immediately, Brenda. Maybe a couple of hours at the most. Tops."

"And then?" Chris prompted after dictating what the sheriff had said.

"He'll be given a court date," Mr. Clark added. "But, I've already called in a few favors and saw to it that Judge Burgess would be the one presiding. He'll just have to meet with the judge and maybe have to do some community service. Do some outpatient alcohol treatment of some sort, I'm guessing." He dropped his shoulders as if removing all the tension he'd been holding. "Whatever. We just want to keep this off Sebastian's record."

My mother stood there, repeatedly nodding while mulling it over. "And when does this need to happen?"

The sheriff threw up his hands. "How soon will he be released?"

Mom's eyes scanned me over, instantly taking inventory of every bruise, scratch and my injured shoulder. "In a couple of days, probably." Her hands found each other, wringing them. "Couldn't this all wait until after?"

The subtle tone difference at her inference was notable. She asked to wait until after the funerals for me to be charged.

Mr. Clark shifted uneasily on his heels. "We can't. We're both already calling in favors as it is to keep this from getting out. From the officers on the scene to the towing company and the EMS crew. All it would take is for the local paper to catch wind of it."

Mom held her hand up to stop him from clarifying further. There was so much more at stake.

Damn it. Stupid. Idiot. What the f*ck was wrong with me?

If a newspaper found out about my drinking and driving, my chances of getting an offer to go to Duke on a full-ride scholarship would be zilch.

"Okay. I'll bring him, hopefully, tomorrow to get it taken care of. If not, Tuesday," she said. "Now if we're done here, I have to get going."

"Oh, of course. We have some things to take care of as well." Sheriff Atkins strained a half-smile before motioning toward the exit for Mr. Clark to leave.

Chris stood and headed towards the door also. "I'm going to go downstairs. She's where?"

"The ICU. Just take the elevator to the third floor and make a right. Ask for Debbie, she'll show you where to go," Mom said.

She waited until we were alone and patted me on the cheek. "I have to go check on Shelby, but I'll send Robin back in to keep you company. And when I finish with my rounds, you and I are having a little chat, mister."

The subject of the little chat was obvious. Me being grounded probably until my eighteenth birthday, no doubt. Maybe even longer.

She took a couple of steps to leave when I called out, "Mom, take me with you, please?"

My mom spun around and shook her head at my request. "What? No, Sebastian. She just got out of surgery and is in the ICU. You can't see her unless you're family. And you're not."

I stood and stumbled a bit after her. "Can't you do something? You are her doctor."

"It's not that simple." She folded her arms over her chest. "I can't do anything without her family's permission."

Easy enough. "Okay, I'll ask Chris."

"He's not Shelby's guardian." Mom shrugged. "Sarah, Tonya's sister, is."

Huh? Well, I wasn't expecting that. And even worse, I'd never met her. "Then, what do I have to do?"

My mom moved closer, pointing to the bed. "What you need to do is stay in here and rest. But it looks like you're not going to stop until you see her, are you?"

I grinned and instead of conceding, wrapped my good arm around her shoulder. "Ahh, Mom. You know me so well."

With a quick pat at my chest, she said, "Yeah, yeah. All right. I'll take you down there." She detached from me and went into the hallway to find me a wheelchair. When she returned, it appeared way too small for someone my size, and there was no doubt my feet would drag on the floor. But if that's what I had to do, then so be it.

After waiting for me to sit in the chair, she pushed me into the hall and continued, "Now if Sarah says no, my hands are tied until she gets moved to a regular room. Do you understand?"

I winced at having to pull my knees into my chest. A small price to pay to see Shelby. "Yes. But I don't think we'll have to worry about it."

Mom stopped me right before the trio of elevators and pressed the down button. "And why is that?"

The loud ding of the elevator signaled its arrival. "Because I have a feeling her aunt won't tell me no."

Mom forced a laugh and wheeled me forward. Once the doors closed, she said, "You're pretty sure of yourself, huh, Sebastian?"

I couldn't help but smile at her correct assumption. "Mom, when am I not?"

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Ahhh...there he is. The Sebastian we know and love!!!

Please be so kind as to comment and vote!!! It really does push me to tap these lieelt ekys faster! (See I meant to type little keys)

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