Chapter 31
Dorian
I want nothing more than to be at Kathrine’s side, especially when I learn she’s made it out of surgery. Fortunately, the bleed isn’t severe enough to require more than just a decompression—and not the removal of a part of her skull—but the idea of someone taking a drill to her head again brings bile to the base of my throat.
I pace for nearly two hours before being interrupted by a nurse who tells me of Katherine’s stable condition. I have little time to process my partial relief before the Duffey police arrive.
And while I want to rush back to her and inspect the damage, touch her to assure my subconscious that she’s alright, and find some way to ease any pain she’s in, I’m stuck speaking with the police.
Dana rushes back the second Katherine is allowed to have visitors with an officer in tow. I try to soothe my jealousy.
Deep down, I understand that Katherine can rescind her story at any second, spill her guts, and have me thrown in prison, and I don’t care. I willingly give her that power. I need to be by her side now , even if she casts me aside a second later. If I can verify that she’s alive and breathing with my own eyes, she can throw away my life for all I care.
As an officer questions me, I sew together a vague but plausible string of events. I attempt to keep it open for interpretation to prevent Katherine from unknowingly contradicting me.
Fortunately, I was cleared months ago. I have Dana’s confidence and trust. Katherine’s father never came forward about my assault on him, which works out almost too seamlessly for me, and he won’t be coming back from the dead to argue against me.
Part of me impatiently waits to hear details of Tucker’s death. I’m proud of Katherine for immediately blaming him.
“I was headed into the office to grab some paperwork,” I explain to the officer in the waiting room. “I saw something on the side of the road when I pulled out. I wasn’t sure what it was until I got closer and saw her waving. She was disoriented.”
“She didn’t tell you how she ended up there?” The faintest note of suspicion peppers the older man’s words. It seems odd, and if he has any instincts, I’m probably setting off alarm bells in his brain.
“No,” I say flatly. “You don’t think it doesn’t bother me? Wondering how long she might have been out there while I was comfortable inside?”
The officer hums. “It seems strange that she managed to get so far without being seen by anyone else. That, and you’d think she’d be in rougher shape, covered in dirt and debris, but the nurses said she was in fine condition. It’s weird, considering she spent over twenty-four hours in the elements.”
I fold my arms, not willing to falter. He needs more than questionable circumstances—no matter how damning. “Maybe you can ask her…after she’s recovered.”
My irritation gets a nod out of him. I won’t be so lucky to throw him off completely. He writes something down in his notepad, and without looking up, he says, “You look anxious, son.”
I chuckle a little darkly at him. I respect his perception. It serves me right. I’ve gone so long beneath so many noses for there not to be at least one person who can see through my pretenses.
“I haven’t seen Kittie in more than half a year. I thought she was dead. I’m anxious to see her. Wouldn’t you be?”
It’s a deflection and not even a good one. Still, the officer glances at me beneath his heavy brow and doesn’t challenge it. He tucks the notebook in his breast pocket with a huff. “I appreciate your time, Mr. Ward.”
“Thanks,” I reply, letting my shoulders relax. I don’t like him, but it isn’t the officer’s fault he has far better senses than most, and I don’t have the patience to keep this up for much longer.
I want nothing more than to go directly back into Katherine’s room and take her home, but I can’t. I can only return impatiently to my seat in the lobby. The nurse’s summons had been for her mother and no one else.
Eventually, and to my great relief, a different nurse in bubblegum pink scrubs walks into the waiting room and flags me. She gushes about what she thinks is a beautiful love story—a young woman goes missing, and the man pining for her for months finds her and saves her life…after she’d saved his .
I manage to feign listening as I follow her down the hall. It’s surreal walking into Katherine’s hospital room as if I’m transported back more than half a year. A lifetime has transpired between us in no time at all.
There are two hospital beds, one empty and the curtain open, and on the far side of the room, Katherine’s placed in the other. I breathlessly step into the room, not fully processing my worry until I see her, and then I halt in my tracks.
Katherine’s propped up in the bed. Covered in tubes and surrounded by machines again, her eyes are open but hazy. A small section of hair above her ear has been shaved, with gauze wrapped around her head to cover what I can imagine is the Burr hole site.
Even in this state, when the idea of her injuries fills me with guilt, the sight of her could revive me.
I want to go to her side, but Dana, whose eyes are red-rimmed from crying, hurries to cut me off. She gestures back toward the hall with a frantic wave, and I can only stare at her.
For the first time since I took Katherine, the mask nearly slips. I’ve never felt a sense of violence toward Dana, but her coming between her daughter and me stokes the flames of my rage. I’m genuinely tempted to hurt her.
I lift my eyes to Katherine, needing to see her and evaluate her condition before I decide my next move. If I can verify that she’s in stable condition and that she won’t crash in the few minutes it’ll take to settle her mother, I’ll be fine.
But Katherine refuses to look at me. I catch a glance before she rolls her head against the pillow and gazes at the far wall. Her lip quivers.
Why won’t she look at me?
Dana waves both her hands this time, desperate to get me out of the room, and I choose to play the situation by ear. Nerves tense between my shoulders; has Katherine rescinded the grace she’s granted me? Does Dana know the truth?
I keep as cool as possible. Before, I was iron, and now I could crumble under the faintest scrutiny. It’s agony to peel my eyes off my girl, but I reluctantly turn and step back out into the hallway.
Don’t take her away from me now , the demon croons on my shoulder.
Out in the hall, Dana looks as anxious as I feel. “Dorian, you saved my daughter’s life. There are not enough words in the English language to express how thankful I am to you for that.”
“No need. It’s poetic, in a way,” I reply.
Yes, poetic on the surface. I know that Tucker caused this injury, but I can only wonder if it would have been so bad if she hadn’t gotten the first one. If she hadn’t pushed me out of the way in the beginning, would she be healthy in her old life instead of stuck in yet another hospital bed?
Dana is right about one thing: there really aren’t enough words in the English language. Certainly not enough to encapsulate how selfish I’ve been, what Katherine has sacrificed for me, over and over again.
Dana shifts where she stands. “With that being said, maybe the two of you should take a beat.”
When the meaning of her words dawn on me, I don’t have the strength to hold my calm, neutral facade together. I must look deranged because she takes a step back.
I spiral from confusion to denial, even smiling and laughing. “Sorry, Dana. What do you mean?”
Guilt. It weighs down her face. “It’s just that she’s been through a lot. Oh, hell, more than a lot. I don’t know if she’ll ever recover, Dorian. But I know she needs me to take care of her. Therapy, too.”
I shake my head; time slows. “I don’t think—”
Dana cuts off my argument. “She told me she doesn’t want to see you right now, Dorian.”
Stunned, I stare at her. I’ve careened into a brick wall, yet I remain standing.
“I know she won’t say as much, but I’m afraid that the entire experience has…hurt her, you know?” Dana puts a hand to her mouth, looking away as if struck by nausea. “To think that it was Tucker all along, that he found her and did God knows what. I’ve torn myself apart wondering if he ever tried anything when she was young, and I was just too na?ve to realize.”
My blood runs cold. I can’t blame Dana’s fair assumption that Tucker hurt Katherine, maybe even in ways she doesn’t say. Even knowing the truth, the implications disgust me. Still, it’s the most rational line of thinking. I’d been the one to outline the ruse, even if Tucker’s cruelty had existed.
But God , I don’t feel rational. I wish I could tell her I had been the one to ensure that her beast of an ex-husband would never hurt Katherine again. I want her to know I’ve been the one to care for her daughter. She loves and needs me and is better off with me than anyone else. And if Katherine still doesn’t understand that, then…
A bolt of realization struck me.
But I won’t kill you slowly like this, Kittie
The angel on my shoulder taunts me. If you ignore her wishes again, you will truly be a beast, just like your father and uncle.
“Sure, yeah, that’s understandable,” I reply. My voice sounds broken.
Dana nods, a witness to all the stages of grief that flash across my face in rapid succession. “Thank you for understanding, Dorian. I know it’s cruel to ask because you missed her too, but I want what’s healthiest for her.”
I don’t reply, going numb.
“I’ll talk to her. Maybe in a couple of weeks, after she’s had some therapy, I can call you and see if she can talk to you. How does that sound?”
Dana sounds like my mother when she promised to return for me, eventually. When she found a place of her own, she’d come back for me. Even if I’m acquainted with the same sense of hopelessness, I know things are different.
My mother always came back, not for me or with a new life, but to return to her same old ways.
Hearing Katherine’s voice on the phone will not be the same as my mother waltzing back through the door. Something in Dana’s eyes—a wariness—tells me that I won’t have Katherine again. It feels like a bleeding. Something has been ripped from me, left in a hospital bed, and I can’t retrieve it.
I’m tempted—no, desperate—to slip back into the room to at least see her face again. However, Dana retreats several steps to stand in the doorway, blocking any chance at even seeing her.
In the end, there really are no words in the dictionary that could change anything.
Because I hoped that being in my care could protect her, and it’s done the opposite. As long as Katherine’s safe and happy, how can I possibly argue?
I leave the hospital in silence, with no suspicion on my shoulders or eyes in my direction. I’ve gotten away scot-free, though it doesn’t feel that way.
I should be somewhat relieved. Yet, my chest is hollow. The more distance I put between myself and the hospital, the more intense the pain; it gnaws at me in ways that make the angel on my shoulder taunt me in satisfaction.
I curse karma, fate, or God during the entire drive. It’s a hand of divine punishment that is tearing the light of my life from me. Even if I deserve it—and I know I do—it doesn’t lessen my bitterness or misery.
I don’t typically drink. I wouldn’t trade my short time with Katherine for a lifetime of pain-free nights that a good bourbon could give me. But right now, I settle with some cheap gin I picked up at the liquor store on my way back from the hospital. I’m not a gin fan; it just happened to be the closest bottle to the register with the highest proof.
The others, and any sign of them, are gone. I know Raney well enough that she rallied Cory to leave, just in case the police might have shown up, and I appreciate that in more ways than one. It means I can wallow in peace.
I have the misguided belief that I can come home and try to distract myself with work. But stepping through the door and standing in the house only reminds me of how painfully empty this place has become. It was empty before, even with Raney and Cory here. With Katherine gone now, there could be a hole in the side of the house for all it mattered.
The estate isn’t a home. What use does the parlor have if Raney and Katherine aren’t playing their nightly board games and humming along with old music? What separates the kitchen from anyone else’s if it doesn’t have her and Cory practicing their cooking?
And what is this life worth if I don’t have her?
I down the bottle hardly ten steps into the front door and collapse on the living room sofa. I can’t go in any of those rooms in my state. They smell like her. There are traces of her throughout the estate that Raney no doubt failed to conceal before she left. And once I sober up, I’ll definitely seek them out.
But for now, I look at the ceiling as a crater forms in my chest.
Why isn’t it enough?
Do I regret saving her life? No, I would do it again, even if I knew suffering would be on the other side. Behind the mounting haze of a drunken stupor is heartbreak that I’ve never experienced before.
I had my fair share of failed relationships, even shed a tear for one or two. But they’re just ashes along the roadside. This? Katherine’s absence may as well light me ablaze.
I drink until the memories blur.
Time becomes an intangible object. I’m only pulled back to reality by the sound of footsteps and the click of a door. I crack open my eyes and peer up at the time above the mantel. Twelve hours have passed, and the darkness of the evening settles over the estate, all traces of the day long gone.
I can tell by the springy, light footsteps that they belong to Raney. I assume she texted me, but I have no clue what I’ve done with my phone, and I don’t bother peeling myself from the couch to look for it or to greet her.
I close my eyes and listen to the light pattering footsteps carrying her into the living room. With a flick, the overhead lights come on, igniting a dull thump at the base of my skull.
Rolling my pounding head against the armrest, I squint up at her standing in the center of the room.
“You look like you want someone to put you out of your misery,” she murmurs, house keys in hand.
“Are you offering?” I grumble.
“And how would our bills get paid?” There’s a pause, and then she asks, this time in a bleaker tone, “Where’s Katherine?”
I cringe at the name, even though the reaction makes me feel pathetic. “With her mother,” I say, and I almost feel a pinch of pride that I manage to speak evenly.
Raney nods, face neutral. “What will happen to her?”
I let out a labored sigh. “She’ll stay with her mother. She doesn’t want to see me.”
“Hm. Sounds like the most rational reaction. You should have let Kittie go the second my dad was dealt with. You and I both know the idea from the beginning was bananas.”
I grit my teeth but say nothing.
A spell passes between us before she speaks again. “So, what’s the plan, Stan? Are we going to break her out or something? Drag her back here? Maybe have a doctor sworn to secrecy on staff this time?”
I glare at the ceiling. “The plan is to leave her alone.”
“Um, why?” This genuinely seems to perplex her. “You didn’t care about her feelings when you brought her here in the first place.”
“I thought things were simpler than they are,” I explain. “Turns out, when the chips are down, I’d rather her be alive a thousand miles away than dead in my arms.”
“So, that’s it?” Raney raises her arms and then drops them at her sides. “Was it all for nothing?”
“Not for nothing,” I reply quietly. “It’s a steep bargain, but if this is the price of having her here for a short while, I can’t honestly complain.”
“You’re delusional,” she accuses flatly. I twitch at her words as they stoke my irritation, but she continues despite the twist in my face. “She loves you, obviously more than you’re willing—”
I drop my arm and snarl her name in warning. “ Raney. ”
“Don’t ‘Raney’ me. She doesn’t want to see you because what else should she do? She loves you, but you complicated the situation. Is she supposed to run happily back into a house that used to be her prison?”
“I want Kittie to be happy. I’m done with making choices for her.”
“Sounds like you’re just done, period,” she says. “If you think she’s jumping for joy over this and not crying her eyes out right now, you don’t know her at all.”
The image of her weeping into a pillow, curled up on herself, is a knife in me. It sickens me, the notion that she could think for a second that I don’t love her, that I’m a sick monster who did this all for myself and not to protect her.
Desperate to forget the image, I press my hands to my face. “Raney, enough. For God’s sake, I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”
“So, that’s it then? We’re not going to get her?”
“No,” I tell her sternly, dropping my hands from my face to catch her scowl of disappointment. When it looks like she’s about to argue, I roll onto my side, back facing her. I grit my teeth against a wave of pain and snap my response, “Drop it.”
Mercifully, Raney doesn’t bring it up again.
I peer up toward the window behind the sofa, black filling the glass. The estate’s a cage, and I feel something dark and ominous lingering outside, invisible but no less present.
In my heart, she’s the grasshopper in my jar, peering up at me from below.
But whose jar am I in?