Chapter 18
18
Anchor
I take a deep breath as I get to the door Cassidy pointed me to, and with everything I can muster, I look up, and my eyes lock onto my wife’s form through the glass. Quickly, before I can fall on my ass, I lean my palms against it, breathing hard at the picture before me, a part of me dying instantly.
Cuts and scrapes mark the left side of her face, from her brow to her lip, and down the left side of her arm; her right hand is in a cast, wires are all over her chest, and a fucking tube is down her throat.
Fuck….
I choke out emotions that want to consume me, tears building, and, fuck me, if I let them fall.
This is my wife, a woman I have loved since I was eighteen, married at nineteen—she’s a woman I fucking hurt, all because I couldn’t see outside of my own ass.
I can’t fucking lose her, I just can’t, not now, not ever. The woman consumes me; she fucking completes me. I’ve already spent ten years on the outside looking in, I can’t spend any more time without her in my life.
I don’t know how long I stand outside her room, watching her, my eyes trained on her chest moving up and down from the ventilator, but a gentle hand touches my arm, getting my attention. I don’t look to see who it is, and I cannot take my eyes off my wife as my body trembles.
“Let’s go inside, Travis,” Heaven’s mom, Tara, whispers.
I shake my head, my feet unable to move, and I admit, “I’ve just gotten her back, ten years, and I’ve only just gotten her back….”
Everything inside me breaks, the thought of her never opening her eyes again tearing me apart from the inside out.
I need her, Micha needs her….
“And you still have her…. You need to think positively, not just for yourself but also for your son,” Tara says firmly, squeezing my arm, trying to move me toward the door, but I still don’t move.
Instead, I rasp, “I go in there, then I’ll hear the machines, I’ll realize I’m not dreaming, that this isn’t a nightmare, and that my wife is not asleep beside me, our baby isn’t tucked safely inside her.” I turn my head and lock eyes with ones that look so much like my wife’s. I choke, “It’ll mean this is really fucking happening, that I could lose her after I’ve fought for ten years to win her back.”
Tears fall down Tara’s cheeks as she takes me in, her eyes focusing on mine, seeing the truth to my words.
“You love my daughter,” she says with realization, more to herself, pain shining in her blue eyes.
“I love her with everything I am. I made a mistake, a drunken stupid mistake that I wish I could take back, a mistake that cost me ten years without her.”
She nods, then concludes, sniffling, “And you would have won her back sooner if it wasn’t for me, continuously reminding her that you took pleasure from someone else, that you’ll take her son from her.”
I don’t say anything back. Instead, I turn and look at my wife. A part of me resents this woman; she spent my wife’s childhood dragging her from pillar to post, shit talking about men when they did her dirty, when she allowed them to do her dirty, and as soon as I fucked up, as soon as I made the biggest mistake of my life, she ensured my wife stayed clear of me.
“I know you hate me,” she says, “and I don’t blame you. My view on men, well, it uh, is not pretty, and I pushed those views on my daughter, and for that, I am sorry.” She tightens her grip on my arm. “But I’m not going to stand here and allow you to fall apart. My grandson needs you, my daughter needs you, so pull your big boy panties up, and walk your ass into that room, and talk to your wife.”
I look at my mother-in-law, raise my eyebrows, and say, “And where was this woman when my wife was growing up?”
She winces and asks, “She told you about her childhood, huh?”
I nod. “She did, in therapy….”
Her eyes soften, and her grip loosens, but she doesn’t remove it, instead, she gently pulls on my arm, and I don’t know why, but I allow her to guide me to the door as she says, “And that, right there, shows me just how much my daughter means to you; you went to therapy to fix what you broke, and it should show you how much you mean to her.” She pauses near the door. “Travis, after ten years of me in her ear, giving her all my hate on men when I couldn’t go a month being single or relying on myself, she still gave you a chance. And it doesn’t matter how many times she might have told herself it was time for you both to move on, she was lying, she just didn’t want to admit it.”
Tara looks at me fiercely. “She loves you, Travis, and to have her love you after what you did is something you should never take for granted, and right now, instead of giving up, use her love for you to carry on for her and for your son.” She gives me a determined look, despite the redness in her eyes. “Give her what I never could: your strength. Now get your ass in there before I grab whatever weapon you’re carrying and use it on you!”
I sigh, but instead of arguing, I remove her grip from my arm and touch the door handle with sweaty hands.
“Only one person can go in, Travis, and last time I checked, you are her husband, and whether you are aware of it or not, over the last ten years, you have always been her next of kin,” she says, and I grip the handle tighter.
When Piston informed me that I was still Heaven’s next of kin last year, fuck, I was so elated, but now, I can’t fucking breathe, being in this situation.
Without looking at my mother-in-law, knowing she would just love me to say, “Head-on in,” I open the door and walk inside, shutting it behind me, my eyes on my wife’s form.
Slowly, I take small steps in her direction, and I can feel my breathing get heavier with each step I take toward her.
“Hey, Angel,” I choke as I stop by her bedside and reach out with my trembling hand, picking hers up.
She’s so fucking still, except for her chest, as she breathes with the ventilator.
I can’t stand it!
“I need you to open your eyes for me, Heaven, I need you to wake up,” I plead as I kneel beside her bed, clutching her hand in mine.
She doesn’t move or twitch, and her monitors continue with the same beeping. I shake my head, dropping it as I gently run my fingers over her hand.
“Remember when I had that bike accident before we found out you were pregnant with Micha?” I start as my eyes go to her ring finger, which is empty, and without thinking, I reach for the inside of my cut and grab her wedding ring that I always carry with me and gently guide it onto her finger, wishing she had an engagement ring.
“Steal called you instead of my parents, instead of the club.” I lift her hand, kiss her finger, and whisper, “He knew, then, exactly what you meant to me, what you’ll always mean to me.” I look at my wife. “You’re my family, Heaven, you and our son,” slowly, I place my hand on her stomach, where our child died, “and any other children we may have. I can’t live without you, Angel. Having only small amounts of you over the years, the parts you’d allow me to have, it barely kept me going. I need you to come back to me, to come back to our son, because I can’t do this without you. I can’t do life without you.”
I drop my head against her stomach, and pain hits me hard.
“Please, Heaven, please come back to me….”