Twenty Three
Whit
I pace my apartment back and forth, back and forth. The sunlight pierces through the blinds, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor, but I barely notice it. The walls feel like they’re closing in around me, suffocating me with the weight of my desperation. Pulling my hair and gnashing my teeth, I feel the madness creeping in. I want to bring him back from death and kill him over and over for touching my Scarlett. For taking the one pure thing in my life and soiling it.
I need to call the hospital again. I need to hear her voice.
“Hello, Barton Hospital ICU, how may I direct your call?” The voice on the other end is monotonous, as if they’ve recited this line a million times.
“Scarlett Calhoun’s room, please.”
“One moment, sir.”
The anticipatory silence feels heavy as I pace again, the floor creaking under my restless feet. Finally, the phone crackles to life.
“This is the nurse’s station for Scarlett Calhoun, can I help you?” Her voice is gruff, tinged with an impatience that I can feel radiating through the phone.
“Yes, this is her fiancé, Whit Lockwood. I was calling to check on her.” My voice is more frantic than I intended, but I can’t contain it.
“Let me check her file,” she says. It’s as if my heart stops as I wait, the silence stretching. I can hear her tapping on the keyboard, and every click sends another jolt of anxiety through me.
“Mr. Lockwood, I’m sorry to tell you but Ms. Calhoun is about to be discharged—”
“I will be right there to pick her up. Don’t let her leave. I will be right there,” I say, cutting her off.
“But sir—” I hang up, the dial tone echoing my desperation.
I race to the hospital, the city blurring past me as I drive, trapped in a vortex of rage and fear. Each turn feels like a reminder of the fragility of life, of love. My hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, and I can nearly feel Sterling’s presence—taunting, smirking, the very embodiment of evil. His name is a curse on my tongue.
The moment I reach the hospital, I burst through the sliding glass doors, my heart pounding in my ears like a war drum. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, competing with my frantic thoughts. Nurses bustle around, the scent of antiseptic filling the air, suffocating and cold.
“Scarlett!” I shout, my voice slicing through the sterile atmosphere.
A nurse stops, looking at me with a mixture of surprise and concern. “Sir, you need to—”
“Where’s Scarlett?” I interrupt her, already scanning the reception area.
“Mr. Lockwood, please—”
My breath quickens, and I can feel a cold wave crash over me. “No! She’s coming with me!”
“She’s still in the ICU. She hasn’t left yet. You need to calm down before we can assist you. Please follow me.”
I follow her down the stark white hallways with sterile tiles that gleam in the harsh light. With each step, my heart thrums louder in my chest, memories of Scarlett flooding back. The way she laughed, the sound bright and effervescent like love itself. The way her smile lit up a room, as if the sun had poured in. I remember how time slowed to a crawl during our late-night talks, how I’d hang on her every word, her wisdom both innocent and haunting.
As we approach her room, dread envelopes me, whispering fears of the impending loss I can’t bear. She could be a ghost, floating away from my reality as I reach for her, fingertips grazing the edges of a memory. They push through the door, and I’m confronted with the sight of Scarlett.
She’s lying in the hospital bed, pale against the white linens, her fiery hair spilling out like a halo, soft and inviting. A sleep so tranquil blankets her, but I know she’s been through hell. I step closer, the weight of my intentions anchoring my feet in place.
“Scarlett,” I murmur, pulling back the curtain.
Her eyelids flutter open, revealing those emerald pools that shone with life and laughter just days before, now shadowed by pain. She smiles faintly, the corners of her mouth turning upward as if the weight of the world hasn’t crushed her entirely.
“Whit,” she breathes, her voice a mere whisper.
Tears prick at my eyes, and I kneel beside her bed, taking her delicate hand in mine. “You’re safe now. I’m here, I promise. I brought you some clothes to come home in.”
A faint smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and she nods slightly. “Thank you. I need to get out of here.” She slowly sits up, wincing in pain. I quickly grab ahold of her and help her out of the bed, wrapping my arm around her waist to support her weight.
She leans against me, her body trembling with fatigue. I can feel the tears soaking through my shirt, her cries breaking my heart.
“Shh, little flame. It’s going to be okay.” I brush my lips against her forehead, and she looks up at me, her eyes full of sorrow and confusion.
“Whit, I don’t know if I can trust you. How can I ever know what’s real or not?”
I kiss her softly. “I will prove it to you, every day for the rest of my life. I will never stop loving you, Scarlett.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, and I lead her out of the room. The nurse is waiting with a wheelchair, and I help Scarlett sit down. We head to the elevator, and I press the button for the ground floor. As the doors close, I glance down at her, and she’s staring up at me with a mixture of fear and hope in her eyes. I know I’ll do whatever it takes to earn her trust and make sure she knows just how much she means to me.
“Let’s break you outta here, baby,” I say, and she gives me a weak smile. We make our way out of the hospital, and I help her into the car.
“I brought your favorite blanket,” I murmur, leaning over her to buckle the seat belt. Then I drape the plush blanket over her, making sure she’s snuggled in before I get into the driver’s seat and start the engine. We drive away, leaving the hospital behind and hopefully all of the darkness behind.
“I’m taking you home, baby. Our home.” She sighs shakily and closes her eyes. The ride to the penthouse is silent, the air heavy with unspoken words. When we arrive, I help her out of the car, and she winces as she tries to stand.
“I got you,” I say, lifting her in my arms and carrying her inside. I take her to our bedroom and lay her down gently. She curls up on the bed, her eyes still closed. “You rest while I go run you a bath. Blaine is going to pick up your prescriptions and drop them off.”
She just nods, her breathing slow and steady. I head to the bathroom and start filling the tub, adding some lavender oil to the water. Then I return to the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed.
“Do you want me to stay with you? Or do you want me to go?” I ask hesitantly.
“I don’t want to be a burden on you. I’ll be fine.” Her voice is barely audible.
I sigh and kiss her forehead. “You’re never a burden to me, little flame.” I get up and go back to the bathroom to check on the water. It’s almost ready, so I add some bubble bath and turn off the tap.
When I walk back into the bedroom, Scarlett is sitting up in bed, her eyes open. She looks so small and fragile, and it breaks my heart to see her like this. I go to her and kneel beside the bed, taking her hand in mine. “The bath is ready. Let me help you get in.” I wrap an arm around her waist and lift her out of bed. She leans heavily on me as we make our way to the bathroom.
I sit her on the toilet seat and help her remove her clothes. Once she’s naked, she covers herself in front of me, as though she’s embarrassed. I frown and cup her cheek.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask softly.
She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “I’m hideous.”
I kiss her softly.
“You’re beautiful, Scarlett. Always.” I help her into the tub, and she sinks down into the warm water with a sigh. I grab a washcloth and gently wash her back, being careful not to hurt her.
She relaxes under my touch, and I can feel some of the tension leaving her body. “Thank you, Whit,” she whispers, closing her eyes.
I kiss the top of her head and continue to wash her. “Anything for you, little flame.” When she’s clean, I lift her out of the tub and wrap her in a soft towel. I carry her back to the bedroom and set her on the bed, then go to the dresser and grab a pair of her underwear and one of my t-shirts.
I help her into a soft, oversized t-shirt that belongs to me, a small scrap of my world wrapped around her fragile form. Scarlett lays on the bed, her body curled tight under the navy comforter I drape over her. As she sinks into the pillow, I kiss her forehead gently, and her eyes flutter closed in exhaustion.
I settle down next to her, my hand instinctively finding its way into her hair, the familiar rhythm calming both of us. Minutes stretch as silence envelops us, a fragile truce after the storm of emotions that’s passed between us. I think she is asleep, breathing deep and even, until she shifts and meets my gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Why wasn’t I good enough?” she asks, her voice barely a murmur, but sharp enough to cut through the thick tension that filled the room.
I lean down, resting my forehead against hers, wanting to close the gap of trust that has been shattered. “You’re perfect, Scarlett. I’m the one who fucked up.”
Her eyes close again, a tear escaping to slide down my cheek, warm and heavy. I can feel the tremors of her heartbreak as I hold her gaze.
“But the girl…” she trails off, reluctance hanging heavily in her words.
I draw in a shaky breath. “I was high, and she took advantage of the situation. I tried to push her away, I did. She kept saying that her name was Scarlett, her hair was dyed your color, but…I couldn’t think clearly. When I finally broke free, that’s when I saw you, and I was panicking because I couldn’t find you. I wanted to run to you, to make everything right again. But I was so messed up, and I didn’t make it very far. I’m not trying to make excuses. I realize what I did, and I just want you to know nothing happened with her. I’m so sorry, baby.”
Her brow furrows, and I can see her processing the knots of betrayal twisting in her heart. “But why did you have to get drunk and high before your show?” she asks, a mix of anger and hurt coursing through her.
I look away, shame creeping through my veins. “Because I thought I wouldn’t be who they wanted without the drugs. I’ve always believed that was what made me a good musician. It’s like it unlocked this art inside my mind.” I pause, collecting the fragments of my thoughts. “Fear of failure has been drilled into my head for as long as I can remember. I never thought I could step on the stage or in the studio without that crutch. I got addicted, and it spiraled out of control. I can see that now.”
Scarlett’s expression tightens as she considers my words. “I’ve told you about my father, Whit. I can’t go through that again. I won’t. He nearly killed me, and I won’t let you destroy me from the inside out.”
In that moment, the weight of her words settle like a brick on my chest. I see the fragility of her trust fracturing around us, the pain of past scars flooding back. “I don’t want to hurt you. I know how much I’ve hurt you already. I’m fighting for us, I am. I can’t change the past, but I can promise you I’ll fight every moment to become better for you. I swear it.”
Scarlett stares up at me, her expression wobbling between anger and vulnerability. “But can you really change?”
“Yeah, I can. I’m done with the high I thought I needed. I want to show you the real me—a better me. Give me a chance, Scarlett. Please.”
She bites her lip, a small spark of hope glimmering in her tear-filled eyes. I reach for her hand, intertwining our fingers, willing her to feel the sincerity in my touch.
“You showed me that I could be the best version of myself, just as I am. No drugs, no alcohol. I’m done with both.” I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “I know I fucked up, and I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m begging you to give me one. Please, little flame. Please give me another chance.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes filled with pain and confusion. “I love you, Whit. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. But I don’t know if I can trust you.”
I take her hands in mine and squeeze them tightly. “I will do whatever it takes to make this right. I’ll prove to you that you can trust me. Just give me a chance. I’ll go to rehab,” I said, the conviction in my voice startling even myself.
“Rehab?”
“Yeah, I mean it. I’ll do whatever it takes. For us.”
Scarlett squeezes my hand back, her breath shaky as she tries to navigate the storm of emotions. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just your demons, Whit; it’s our hearts at stake.”
“I do get it.” I press on, desperate to reach her. “That’s why I can’t lose you. I’d rather fight my demons sober and build whatever hope is left between us than lose you to a past I can’t change.”
Tears continue to track down her cheeks, but I sense the tension beginning to ebb; she needs this as much as I do.
“Okay,” she finally whispers, the cracks in her walls softening.
I can’t help but lean in, planting soft kisses along her cheek and then briefly pausing to savor the moment before brushing my lips against her forehead, a gentle promise that we will get through this together.
“Thank you, Whit.”
“Anything for you, little flame.” I push the hair from her face so I can look deep into her eyes.
“I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, Scarlett. You have to believe me. I don’t want anyone but you. Please, let me show you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear.” My voice cracks, feeling vulnerable and flayed open. She doesn’t understand that I would die without her. Living without her wouldn’t even be worth living.
The feel of her in my arms is the best feeling in the world. She’s so soft and warm, and I can’t help but breathe in her scent. She smells like home, and I can’t believe I almost lost her. I bury my face in her hair and kiss her neck. “I love you so much, little flame.”
She clings to me, her body shaking. “I love you too, Whit.” She smiles and closes her eyes, drifting off to sleep. I watch her for a few moments, her chest rising and falling with each breath.