Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
J ames
One week later
I stare into the window of Cecilia’s hospital room. She was curled on her left side, her back facing me, fast asleep.
Tobias was slumped in the chair right next to her, also asleep.
I didn’t understand how she could sleep in that position after just being stabbed, but that was my Cecilia, a true warrior making it a competition with herself to heal the fastest. She was succeeding, too.
The knife went straight through her side, coming out of her back and damaging her spleen. She had to have it removed, but other than that, she was in the safe zone despite the life adjustments she’ll have to make now that she doesn’t have one of her organs.
She’s been up and moving, and her strength and speed are better than all the doctors have anticipated. Tobias was like her personal cheerleader, encouraging her and making her feel like she won the Olympics just for walking up and down the halls.
She was eating, drinking, and sleeping okay, so why was I standing here feeling so bloody terrified out of my mind that it felt like I couldn’t breathe?
Every time I looked at her, all I could see was her pale face and eyes, as if they were looking right through me. Blood coating her body everywhere. All I could hear echoing in my head were her short breaths that I was terrified would eventually run out.
I always felt sick and haven’t slept more than five hours this entire week.
I see her roll over to her other side in her bed and watch with a sinking stomach as her eyes slowly blink open, trying to see in the darkness. It was barely five in the morning, and the sun hadn’t risen yet.
I walk to the door and quietly go inside. Her eyes pop up to meet mine, and she softly smiles.
“I was wondering where you were,” she says softly.
I stand by her bed and gently caress her hair. “I ran home to shower. I made sure your brother would be with you.”
“He’s always here,” she grumbles. “Like a giant monster under my bed.”
That gets a laugh out of me. “He loves you.”
“I know. I’m just ready to go home.”
“It’s only been a week, Cecilia. You should rest more and?—”
“The doctor said I could go home today if all my blood work comes back normal and I’m not showing any signs of infection.”
It feels as though my throat closes up. “Today? That’s awfully soon.”
“I’ve been here for seven days. It’s not soon enough.”
“I know, but?—”
She eyes me warily. “Do you not…want me home? I can go back to my apartment if you?—”
“That’s not it,” I rush out. “Don’t even think that.”
“Then what is it?”
My throat squeezes and feels like it nearly closes altogether. I look behind me, spotting another chair in the room, and I grab it and drag it back to her bedside. I sit down in front of her, noticing her concerned gaze on me every step of the way. I reach out and caress her face, to which she shuts her eyes and revels in.
“I’m giving you an out,” I finally manage to say despite it making me feel sick.
Her eyes snap open in alarm. “What?”
“I’m giving you an out, Cecilia. None of this is what you wanted,” I admit, finally accepting it for the first time since I’d met her and couldn’t help my damned self. “This life. This violence. It was never meant for you.”
She leans up a little and winces as she does, but it doesn’t stop her. “James, stop,” she manages to say, but I don’t.
“I can forgive myself for being the bad guy. I can forgive my lifestyle and the awful things I’ve done. I can even forgive myself for killing your friend.” Her eyes well with tears, and she swallows hard, her lips trembling as she stares back at me. “But I can’t forgive myself for you being hurt. I never will. If you had died?—”
“But I didn’t,” she bites out, her voice watery and pained.
“You almost did,” I rush out. “It felt like you did—right in my arms. I’ll never forgive myself for putting you through that, for dragging you into this mess.”
“You didn’t drag me into it. I stepped into it willingly, and let’s not forget it was just as much my mess as it was yours. Lance was my friend. Everything he did was my fault.”
I shake my head. “You would have eventually fallen in love with him if it weren’t for me. I interfered in a life that was never meant for me.”
“He also would have eventually hurt me. The tendencies were there all along, James. Quit talking like this. Like it’s already over.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask softly, my stomach clenching in my pain. “I thought I could see you through it all. I thought I could protect you, but then you…you were stabbed, and the way you felt in my arms…” I can barely finish speaking because that terrifying feeling snakes its way into my chest like a heavy weight, suffocating me, and I feel like I can’t catch my breath as the rest of my body feels like it’s burning. The memory of her blue eyes fading so quickly fills my head again, and I feel sick all over again.
“James,” I hear Cecilia rush out, and I want to fall apart at the sound of it. I was so sure I’d never hear my name leave her lips again. Then I feel her. Her hands cupping my face, and I snap my eyes open, not realizing I’d shut them, and see her kneeling in front of me now, out of her bed.
“What are you doing? Get back into your bed.”
“No,” she snaps back.
“Cecilia.”
“No,” she snapped again, and the next thing I knew, she was standing and crawling into my lap despite the chair being big enough for one person. She straddles me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close. Our chests collide, and I lose all senses, burying my face into the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent. My arms wrapped around her so tight, keeping her close enough so that I could feel each and every lively breath she took against me.
My fingers dug into her skin like I was reaching for an anchor to tether me to reality, the one she was safe and alive in and not the one repeating in my fearful head, reminding me every second of the day that things could have gone very differently.
“I love you,” she murmurs. Her breath skates over my neck from where her head lays on my shoulder. “I don’t want an out. I want us to fix each other and move on. It’s all I want.”
I hold her tighter against me, anxiety flowing through me in a way I wasn’t used to. “I’m afraid,” I admit. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to.”
She lifts her head to look directly at me now. “We will,” she says confidently. “Just say you’ll try, and we’ll be okay.”
I nod gently. “I’ll try,” I promise. I’d do anything for her, even if it made me feel like this every day.
She leaned in, kissing me softly, and I kissed her for a second before pulling away. “Get back into bed,” I suggested again. “I don’t want your wires getting all messed up.” I pointed to all the wires she was hooked up to now stretched across her bed and tangling beneath us.
She smirks and rolls her eyes, making my stomach roll at the act. Some things never change.
She crawls off me and gets back into bed, settling into it with an unsatisfied huff. “Hopefully, they let me go today,” she says, reminding me.
I rest my elbow on the chair, pressing my cheek into my fist. “Hopefully.”
Two Weeks Later
I hear the front door slam, and I shut the book in my lap that I wasn’t actually reading. I stand from the sofa and walk toward it, only to see Cecilia barreling into the house with an angry expression and her brother hot on her heels.
“Bunch of fucking animals,” she barks out over her shoulder.
My brows furrow together. “What’s wrong?” I rush out but feel immediately dumb for even asking today, of all days.
Today was Lance's funeral.
I advised Cecilia not to go, but like always, she disagreed with mostly everything I said. I didn’t think it was the best idea, considering when Milana outed all of Chuck’s business, it was all followed up with his untimely death that quickly followed the allegations that previously made headlines. Every social media outlet, newspaper, and magazine was talking about the death of Mayor Fireux and one of his accomplices which was Lance.
I couldn’t avoid my involvement this time, considering when Cecilia was stabbed here, the paramedics and police all came to assist and obviously found the bodies of Chuck and Lance on my property. With the allegations against Chuck, we could innocently spin the story without incriminating ourselves.
They didn’t need to know all of Chuck’s motives, such as my bribery of the NYPD and his short partnership with Hodge Wiseman, who was found dead behind a coffee shop, his death ruled as a drive-by shooting, speculated to be by the Amato’s, who were in hiding.
Chuck was found guilty of working with and being paid off by the mafia family, the Amato’s, and targeting me as an alleged member of the mafia to hurt Luccio and declare war against their families. Mine and Luccio’s ties always seemed to make their way back to the public, which wasn’t going to be good for my business in the short-term future, not that I cared about that these days.
Lance’s involvement was tied up pretty much as accurately as it was. Chuck manipulated him to seek revenge on Cecilia for rejecting him and to hurt me for her loving me instead. I got away with it being self-defense on my property, which isn’t untrue.
In the big picture of it all, it was ridiculous and tragic for no good fucking reason. Chuck’s motives were all na?ve and selfish, and Lance’s involvement was somewhat a crime of passion, I guess you could say.
That was how it was all being portrayed to the news outlets.
Still, Cecilia’s involvement and rejection of her best friend were no secret now, and I'm sure her going to his funeral put a lot of eyes on her. Not to mention his mother, who has pretty much damned her and me to hell and has been busy trying to file several failed lawsuits against me. I didn’t hold it against her. She was a grieving mother, and I’d never fault her for that. I didn’t regret my actions, but I regretted that it’s what it had to come to.
“Paparazzi,” Tobias finally answers me when Cecilia doesn’t. She just stomps right past me and up the stairs. A second later, we hear the bedroom door slam.
“I told her not to go. I knew they would eat it up if she went.”
“It wasn’t just that. His family also made it clear she wasn’t wanted there. She had to watch the funeral from a distance in the cemetery behind a tree.”
“Fuck,” I sigh tiredly. Just another thing she had to deal with that she didn’t deserve. “I should probably go talk to her.”
Tobias nods. “I’ll be close by. I’m staying at her apartment for a while.”
I nod, patting his shoulder as he turns to leave. “Thanks.”
I turn and head up the stairs, slowly opening the bedroom door. I see Cecilia sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling her black tights down her legs. I see the slow river of tears flooding down her cheeks as she stands up and begins unbuttoning the black blazer over her chest.
“Hey,” I murmur.
“That was such bullshit,” she sputters like she knew Tobias had filled me in on everything. “Those camera hogs actually followed us home. Can you believe that?”
“I can, actually. That’s why I warned you not to go.”
She rips her blazer off, her chest covered in a tight black silk cami, now exposing more of her skin to me. My hands clench at my sides.
“And I told you that I would never not go to my best friend's funeral.”
“He wasn’t your best friend,” I snap out, annoyed.
“He was once,” she yells back to me. My body floods with anger when I think about her supposed best friend's betrayal, but I push it down like everything else I’d been feeling.
“Anyways,” I say, changing the subject. “Are you alright? Are you feeling okay?” I notice her breathlessness as she stares back at me. She rolls her eyes and stomps into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I hear the water running and sigh, but I continue to the door and go inside the bathroom.
She slips her black skirt down her leg and then rips her tank top over her head. She’s left standing in nothing but a sleek black thong, and my body burns with heated need as I stare at her, but then my eyes fall onto her back, the gauze taped over her wound, and the flames inside me extinguish, and I run cold.
She steps into the water and sinks into the tub. More tears fall from her eyes, and I feel sick at the sight of them. I hated the way she cried now. She doesn’t make a noise. There are no sobs, gasping, sniffles, or shaky voices. Her tears just fall as she mindlessly goes about her day, like they are just a part of her now.
She still sounds out of breath but seems to relax more as she slumps into the tub.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
Her eyes flit to mine as she makes a face of irritation. “I’m fine.”
“You won’t be if you keep going at this rate. Just slow down. Please.”
“I said I’m fine, James. I just need a good soak, and I’ll be brand new again for the day.”
I tilt my head as I watch her. “You don’t have any more plans for the day, right?”
She shrugs. “I wanted to go to the hiking trails behind my apartment and get a workout in. I used to walk there a lot back when I moved in.”
“Are you serious? No. You’re not in any shape to work out, let alone walk trails in the cold. You’ll lose your breath.”
“I don’t remember asking you,” she sternly challenges.
“I don’t remember either, which is funny because you should be. You just had surgery two weeks ago. You’re not even approved to work out yet.”
“It’s just a walk. I’ll be fine. I want to be out in nature. It’s healing for me.”
“We’ll take a walk in the maze then.”
She tears her gaze away. “I don’t want to go in there right now.”
I nod in understanding. “Wait at least one more week, and I’ll take you to the trails myself for a walk. Just not today. Please.”
She sighs. “Fine. Whatever.”
I nod again, still not feeling satisfied even though she agreed. “I’m going to head back downstairs. I have a little bit of work to catch up on. Do you need anything?”
“Nope,” she says with a bite to her tone.
I press my lips together hard, then leave. I head back downstairs, sit back on the sofa, and open my book again, but I don't read it. Anxiety slams into me full force again like I knew it would, and I sit just there and fight against it like I’ve been doing every day for the last two weeks.
An hour later, I head back upstairs to check on her when I don’t hear her come back down or make any noise of life, for that matter.
When I walked into the room, I found her passed out in bed with just her bath towel wrapped around her body.
I shut the door quietly and go to her, gently pulling the towel from her body and then dragging the blankets over her. I can’t help but look at her, but when I do, my eyes immediately snag onto her injury once more. I finish covering her with the blanket just as she starts squirming in the bed, making inaudible sounds of distress.
Was she having a nightmare?
She all but confirms it when she starts violently kicking her feet in the bed like she’s trying to run away and starts murmuring full words like stop and please .
“Cecilia,” I say gently, leaning down to shake her shoulders. She doesn’t wake, so I call her name again and shake her a little harder until her eyes finally pop open.
She stares at me like she doesn’t know if I’m real until finally, she leans up and lets out a heavy breath.
“You were having a nightmare,” I tell her.
“I gathered that,” she says, her voice sounding exhausted.
“Are you alright?”
“God, I wish you’d quit asking me that,” she groans.
“I never will so get over it,” I say with an edge to my tone. I didn’t understand why my concern annoyed her so badly, but she needed to deal with it already.
She pulls the blanket higher up her chest like a shield from me, and the act raises my defenses. “What is it?” I ask her.
“I don’t know. Things just… don’t feel right between us lately.”
“Well, just two weeks ago, a lot of things got screwed up. You almost died. It’s not going to feel normal right away.”
“I know that, but I guess I just thought we’d be closer or something, but it feels like you’re so far away anymore.”
I reach out and let the back of my knuckles glide against her collarbone. She lets out a sharp gasp at the contact. “I’m right here, babe.”
She shuts her eyes as I caress my hand over her shoulder, sweeping her hair back over it. “I know, but it feels like we’re walking on eggshells around each other. Like we’re not actually dealing with anything.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I don’t know,” she says again. “I just don’t want us to fall apart—not now.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. “I love you,” I tell her. I love her so fucking much it’s killing me.
“I love you too,” she answers as she crawls over to be right beside me. She lets the blanket fall from her body, her bare breasts on display.
I look down at her and instantly am consumed with need. To touch her. Feel her warm skin. Her beating heart. To feel her shake against me as I’m inside her.
I lean into her and kiss her neck, noting how she slightly trembles beneath me. Then I take the blanket and pull it back over her body, concealing her again.
When I pull back, she looks confused, and that also kills me.
“You need your rest,” I tell her. “We shouldn’t be… doing any of that just yet.”
“It’s fine,” she says quickly. “The doctor said I could if we’re careful.”
“I’d rather wait a little longer. Your injury is still so fresh. You get tired so easily these days. It’s not a big deal to wait.”
Now she looks pissed as she sits back in bed, putting distance between us again. “You don’t want to touch me. Got it.”
I stand from the bed now. “That’s not it. You know it’s all I ever want. But you’re fragile?—”
“I am not fragile,” she interrupts me, raising her voice.
“You are. You’re extremely fragile right now. Not just your body but your mind. You just had a nightmare, and I can probably guess what it was about. You just went to your friend's funeral today and passed out after just taking a bath. You’re drained. I’m drained. We’re not ready for that right now.”
“I told you I was fine!”
“No, you’re not.” I began pacing back and forth. I didn’t want to get angry, but how could she not see that she wasn’t okay? That I wasn’t okay? “I think you should talk to someone,” I finally told her.
She rears back in surprise. “Like a shrink?”
“A therapist, Cecilia. Someone that can help you cope with the trauma.”
“That’s what I’m looking for from you,” she admits.
“I can’t,” I tell her, finally admitting it for the first time. “I can love you, Cecilia. I can, and I will love you so fucking much, but I don’t know how to make you feel safe. I want to, but I failed you once, and I don’t know how to not do it again.”
She crawls to me again and sits in my lap, resting her head against my chest as she wraps her arms around me. Mine instantly wrap around her, and I breathe a little easier for the first time today.
“I feel safe with you,” she whispers. “You don’t have to try at it. I always feel safe with you. Just because the outside world can still touch us out of our control does not ever mean that I am not safe with you.” I try to believe that, but I can’t. Not when she almost died in my own arms. “I’ll talk to someone, I guess. If you think it will help,” she relents.
“I think it will,” I say in relief, hoping it will provide some guidance that I’m incapable of providing.
“Okay,” she agrees.
I hold her to me as I gently pull her back into bed and let her fall back asleep in my arms. I stay awake the rest of the night, just listening to her breathe.