Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Imogene
My vision was blurry as I attempted to focus on my surroundings. The steady beeping, coupled with the strong scent of astringent, made it obvious I was in a hospital. But how did I get here?
I tried to put the pieces of last night together. At least I hoped it was only last night.
I recalled driving up to Santa Monica for a much-needed weekend with Melanie and telling her that Gideon was really Samuel. I’d even shared all the things he’d done, as well as all the things he still planned to do.
Instead of reassuring me I’d done the right thing by walking away, she convinced me his actions didn’t make him a bad person. After all, my mother hadn’t killed my father in self defense. She did so because she couldn’t stomach the idea of living in a world with him in it anymore. Because if she didn’t take his life, he would hurt more people.
The same could be said for Gideon.
I’d jumped into my car and sped toward the freeway, wanting to get home as quick as possible.
Wanting to get to Gideon as quick as possible.
The last thing I remembered was the sound of screeching tires and the scent of rubber.
Everything after that was a blur…
Until a few moments ago when a voice cut through the fog, talking about one of my favorite memories of Samuel at Hilton Head.
“How… How are you feeling?” Gideon asked, his worried gaze raking over my frame. I didn’t even want to know how I looked right now. Not if how I felt was any indication.
“Like I’ve just been hit by a truck.”
His expression fell and he pinched his eyes shut. “It’s not that far from the truth.”
“Hey.” I squeezed his hand to the best of my ability. “I’m okay. At least I think I am.”
He took a shuttering breath. “You are. You have a concussion, along with some broken ribs. Your lung collapsed, which is why there’s a tube on your side. The doctors will most likely be able to remove it in the next day or two.” His words came out even with a subtle tremble.
“You also no longer have a spleen. According to the doctor, it doesn’t do much anyway, but you will be more susceptible to getting sick. Your shoulder was also dislocated, but they popped it back in during surgery.”
“That explains the sling,” I attempted to joke.
“I’ll go tell the nurse you’re awake so she can come talk to you. Or send the doctor in.” He started to get up, but I stopped him.
“Not yet. I just want you to sit with me for a minute.”
He lowered himself back into the chair, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Whatever you need.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and touched a warm kiss to my skin.
“I was on my way to see you,” I confessed after a moment of heavy silence, broken only by the steady beeping.
“What’s that?”
“The night I was hit. I…” I scrunched my brows. “What day is it?”
“Sunday. You’ve only been out for a little over twelve hours.”
“Good,” I exhaled, somewhat relieved I hadn’t lost too much time.
“But what do you mean you were on your way to see me?” Concern and guilt flickered in his sparkling blue eyes.
“I told Mel everything, and she talked some sense into me. She reminded me there’s a little darkness in all of us. I already lost you once. I didn’t want to lose you again.”
He stared at me, blinking repeatedly, before he jumped to his feet.
His reaction confused me. I thought he’d be relieved. But based on the way he paced the length of the hospital room, he looked more distraught than anything.
Despite the fact it was a Sunday afternoon, he wore a wrinkled tuxedo shirt and pants, as if he’d come here straight from some black-tie function. His bloodshot eyes suggested he hadn’t slept a wink since arriving here.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I began tentatively, watching as he ran his hands through his disheveled hair. “I just finally realized that I overreacted when I heard you talking to Henry about…things. I should have put myself in your shoes before passing judgment on you. Once I realized that, I wanted to?—”
“It’s my fault,” he declared fiercely, his chest heaving as he faced me, his tall stature imposing in this tiny space.
“What do you mean?”
“This.” He waved his hand around the room. “It’s my fault you’re here, Imogene. It’s my fault you were nearly killed.”
“What? No. I didn’t tell you I was on my way to see you to make you feel guilty. I wanted you to know that I was sorry. That I?—”
“The accident was my fault. I set the wheels in motion.”
I parted my lips to argue once more, but he cut me off before I could utter a syllable.
“And not because you were on your way to see me. The man driving the car that hit you?” He drew in a long breath. “It was James Turner.”
I blinked several slow blinks, my brain foggy with confusion. “I don’t?—”
“He was my next target. You overheard as much.”
A chill ran down my spine. “I did.”
“I recorded a conversation between him and Brian McGuire in Atlanta,” he explained, his jaw tight. “It implicated both men in what happened to me. Then I left an anonymous tip that I saw a man matching James’ description walking up to McGuire’s funeral home the day before he went missing.”
“But that still?—”
“Last night, I attended a political fundraiser that James was also scheduled to attend. I approached him and played a snippet of the recording. Then I told him I planned to release it to the media. I just wanted him to get arrested.”
“You didn’t want to…take care of him yourself?”
“I wanted him to know how I felt all those years ago,” he ground out, his jaw tight. “Wanted him to feel the lack of control. To wake up every day scared for his life. He was a prosecutor. Prison wouldn’t be good to him.” He hung his head. “I didn’t think he’d make a run for it when the police showed up.”
“And when he made this run…” I began.
Gideon slowly brought his red-rimmed eyes to mine. “He led police on a high-speed chase through Santa Monica, which came to an end when he crashed into your car.”
He took my hand in his once more, the feel of his thumb grazing my knuckles offering me a sense of comfort.
“I’ve been through a lot of horrible shit, Imogene. But when I asked Henry to find out who owned the car James hit and he told me it was yours…” He pinched his lips, fighting back his emotions.
“I’ve never felt so damn helpless in my life. But I swear to you…”
When he returned his gaze to mine, it was full of determination and sincerity.
“I’m done with all of this. No more lies. No more revenge. No more being obsessed with the past. Instead, I’ll only look toward the future. And I hope you still want a place in that future with me. I promise to be the man you deserve. The man you fell in love with all those years ago. I’ll leave all of this behind and just be Samuel Tate again. For us. Please… Forgive me, Imogene.”
A wave of emotion washed over me, rendering me speechless.
Despite my conversation with Melanie, his promise to leave all of this messy business in the past was certainly a relief. But to learn he blamed himself for the accident?
He didn’t force James behind the wheel of his car. Didn’t make him run from the police. James made that decision for himself.
“I’m not going to do that,” I told him.
He blew out a breath, hanging his head in defeat. “I understand.”
“Because there’s nothing to forgive.”
He darted his gaze up to mine. “What do you mean? I?—”
“I don’t blame you for any of this.”
“But it’s my fault you’re here. My fault you almost…”
“You can’t bear the burden of this. I won’t let you bear the burden of this. Not when James made the decision to run from the police.”
“Which he never would have done if I hadn’t confronted him at the fundraiser.”
“I’m glad you did. You deserve closure after all the shit…” I took a moment to collect myself at the reminder of everything he’d been through.
I’d known the truth about who he was and what he endured for weeks now. Regardless, it was still difficult to think of him locked in a cage somewhere, forced to fight for his life. It was a miracle he was still alive. I wasn’t going to take that for granted anymore.
“Please don’t blame yourself,” I finally finished once I got my emotions under control. “But if you need my forgiveness in order to move on, you have it. Just know you don’t need it. There’s nothing to forgive. Nothing .”
His shoulders fell in relief and he pressed a kiss to my hand, his lips warm and soft, despite the scruff dotting his jaw. But I liked it. Liked the roughness to it. A reminder of his duplicitous nature. Rough and hard on the outside, but soft on the inside.
“Thank you, Imogene. I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you. But I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you that I do.”
“I like the sound of that.”
A wide smile tugged on his mouth, reminding me of the way Samuel once smiled. It was at complete odds with the way Gideon would smile. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, it was guarded, the burden of his past preventing him from being happy. Now, it was as if that weight had lifted.
As if he was finally ready to be Samuel again.
The door to my room opened and a brunette in scrubs walked in, pulling my attention away from Gideon. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”
“I am.”
“How are you feeling?” she asked as she checked the various monitors attached to me.
“Pretty sore.”
“You’ve been through a lot. I want you to see the doctor and for you to try to eat something. After that, I can give you something for the pain, but it’ll probably knock you out again.”
“I’d rather not. Not yet anyway.” I glanced toward Gideon. “I’d like to stay awake a little longer.”
“You got it.” She typed a few things on her tablet, then looked my way. “You have a good man there.” She nodded toward Gideon. “Refused to leave your side until you woke up.”
I smiled, meeting Gideon’s eyes. “I do have a good man.”
It was the truth. He may have done some bad things, but underneath it all, he was still a good person. And I’d do everything in my power to make him see it, too.