Chapter 46
46
REMI
I still can’t believe I’m here.
The last place I ever wanted to be again.
The last place I ever thought I would be again.
Other than the nurse at my side, the hospital hallway remains quiet. Blue carpet underfoot, wooden rails running along the two-tone walls, a random visitor or staff member we meet.
“It’s such a tragedy.” Her shoes squeak with every step, keys jingling too. “Some people will try to tell you he owed money, but no one believes it. Small-town gossip, you know? So, don’t let the rumors get to you, sweetie. He’s one of the good ones, but you know that as much as anyone. It’s so lovely the way you and Chief Kane were able to reconcile after everything.”
“So lovely,” I repeat dryly.
The sarcasm earns me a curious side-eye as we turn a corner, but she won’t say anything.
She won’t for the same reason no one questioned the hospital’s contact information being wrong. Why the department’s HR couldn’t provide the right phone number either, even though I was listed on their forms as well. Not a damn soul wondered why a labor and delivery nurse overheard the issue and easily tracked me down.
Because the misdirection’s still in place, and it turns out I’ve been part of it all along.
This illusion shows the power of love and forgiveness. Where an upstanding community leader never stopped loving his late wife’s troubled daughter, even after the pain I caused. So much so, he found me, and after all my regret and apologies, he forgave me for running off with Roman. We reconnected, bonded, grew close enough he entrusted me with his life.
He upheld the deceit in every aspect, never breaking character, it seems. Even when he filed required updates to paperwork at the department.
Such a fucking pity a compulsive lie finally outperformed him.
I was supposed to be in NYC tonight for Of Men and Wolves’ final concert on their tour. I was going to watch Adams North take the stage, be there when Foster plays Madison Square Garden.
Instead, here I am, walking through Ashfield’s hospital halls. Ready to fulfill the role Daniel cast me in.
“Remi.”
When I glance over my shoulder, Sage is speeding down the hallway. She’s in scrubs, hair gathered on top of her head, and has a hand latched onto the stethoscope around her neck to keep it from swinging as she rushes after us.
“Just a second,” I tell the nurse, going to meet her.
She knocks me back a step as she throws her arms around my neck. It reminds me of when she’d be the only one who ever hugged me, and I close my eyes, embracing her back.
“I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this. They said your name, and when I asked why, one of the other nurses shared the gross story that bastard’s been telling. I thought you at least deserved to know.”
“Thank you. Even if it’s the worst reason to call, I’m glad you did.” I pull away, and she studies me.
“You want me to go in with you?”
Despite the knots in my belly, chest, and throat, I shake my head. “I need to do this on my own.”
I’ve told myself the first part over and over since she called me twelve hours ago. While I booked my flight to Ohio. In the back of the Uber headed to JFK instead of to see Foster. When the plane landed, and as I rented a car, and at least every ten miles of the drive to Ashfield.
Even after saying it aloud just now, I repeat it in my head.
I need to be here. I need to walk into that room. I need to deal with the monster in my closet.
So I can fully live the life Foster’s shown me glimpses of, and I know waits for me with him.
He bought me a house. He found more of my dad for me to hold onto without fear of losing it. He reminds me I’m safe, and his promises are secure.
Foster’s given me back so much by simply being him and loving me. Now I need to take the last of it back myself and then run to him. Where I’ve always belonged.
“I’ll be okay,” I tell her. “I swear.”
“Miles is on his way.” Sage squeezes me again. “We’ll be in the lobby if you need anything.”
As she walks away, she checks on me twice over her shoulder before I return to the waiting nurse.
And I change my mind another half dozen times on the way.
Ultimately, I steel myself and walk with her into the ICU. The door latches behind me, and I can’t even try to regulate my pounding heart.
We pass a few rooms, walking along the line of glass walls with their blinds closed. Until we stop at one, and she slides the door open.
“I let the doctor know you’re here, and she’s on her way.”
The look she gives me then acts as a prompt for me to go inside. I mumble a, “Thank you,” before she walks away.
Once alone, I cast my eyes to the pink curtain, partly drawn for privacy. It takes a second for me to settle into my body enough to step over the threshold. My fingers flex, tightening into fists at my sides as I cross the room. Every breath comes shorter, but then I round the curtain and see the bed.
My hands unclench.
Daniel lies lifeless, the ventilator causing an unnatural rise and fall of his chest. His heart monitor beeps, and tape secures the tube down his throat. Another hangs from under the blankets, draining blood into a container below. Bruises, swelling, bandages—he’s unrecognizable.
It’s no question someone really wanted him dead. Then again, they gave that away when they hit him with a car and then took a baseball bat to him. Just in case, I suppose.
I’m guessing money was involved. Any rumor no one wants to believe is most likely what they should when it comes to Daniel. Personally, I can come up with a plethora of reasons someone might attack him outside a sleazy bar.
I watch him for a long minute. So weak, even though he upended my life. But the man underneath always has been—spineless, desperate, and cruel. All the power comes from the illusions and the false crown bestowed upon him because of them.
“Who holds the power now?” I ask from the end of the bed.
My head turns when someone walks into the room. The doctor offers a small smile on her way toward me, ID badges clipped to one of the pockets on her white coat.
“You must be Remington,” she says. “I’m Dr. Sullivan. We spoke on the phone earlier.”
“Remi.” I shake her outstretched hand. “Has anything changed?”
Her features soften even more, reassuring me nothing has since our conversation before I boarded my plane.
She told me then they kept him here rather than transferring him to a larger hospital due to unstable vitals. They consulted with a neurologist, and after reviewing Daniel’s scans, he agreed moving him posed a greater risk. He recommended they monitor him for any increase in the swelling in his brain and reevaluate once his medical power of attorney arrives.
“I wish I had better news for you, but Chief Kane’s condition hasn’t changed much since the last update.”
“Much?” I ask, bracing for bad news.
Half of her mouth lifts, only to instantly drop. “At all, I’m sorry to say. The most recent scans show the swelling hasn’t increased, but he’s shown no signs of improvement either. We’ve been in a wait-and-see position long enough that, now that you’re here, it might be time to discuss next steps.”
“Next steps,” I repeat slowly.
“As I mentioned on the phone, the police department requires regular updates to a medical power of attorney form both there and with the hospital. Since Daniel named you but left no further directives, decisions on how we proceed will go through you.”
She glances between me and the bed. “Would you like to talk somewhere more comfortable?”
“No. Here is perfect.”
I can tell she wants to disagree but nods.
“We have three options moving forward. It’s still risky, but we could attempt the transport to Johnson Mercy so Dr. Mueller can perform a procedure to relieve pressure on Daniel’s brain. He can walk you through the operation before you decide, but I want to be upfront. The chance of Daniel surviving the surgery is around twenty-five percent. If he does, there’s only a ten percent chance of him fully regaining brain function.”
“And if I say no to the surgery?” I sound cold, but I don’t care.
“We can continue monitoring to see if the swelling reduces on its own. He’d still need to be on the machines, and the chance of recovery is incredibly low.” She pauses, and I look up, my gaze having lowered. “Or you can decide to discontinue life-sustaining measures, and we’ll keep him comfortable.”
My heart knocks into my rib cage. “You mean turn off the machines?”
I need her to clarify, to say it outright, even though she nods with regret.
“Right now, they’re keeping him alive,” she says. “Once we remove them, he’d most likely pass away quickly, but we’ll be able to prevent any pain.”
I swallow to keep the answer from tearing out of my throat. It would be poor form after all.
I force a slow count to five, and then I slip into my role, offering a performance worthy of Daniel Kane when I play off a sad smile.
“I think that’s what my stepdad would have wanted.” I gesture toward the machines, not bothering to look. “He wouldn’t consider this living. It wouldn’t be fair to prolong his suffering.”
Dr. Sullivan grasps my other arm with a sympathetic squeeze. “I know this is a hard decision, so don’t feel rushed. If you need some time, we understand.”
“No,” I say, resolute. “It’s okay. I’m ready to tell him goodbye.”
The last part isn’t an act. The decision is anything but hard. I think the possibility of this exact moment was the real reason I felt a need to come here.
I needed to stand over his bed so if any part of him can, he’ll hear me say, “I’d like to withdraw all life-sustaining care.”
Her expression is comforting. “Of course, Remi. You’ll need to fill out some paperwork, and then we’ll give you some time with him.”
As I walk out behind her, the nurse gently places her hand on my back, guiding me down the hall.
“My heart breaks for you, sweetie.” True sorrow hangs in her tone, even though the man she thinks the world is losing never existed.
“Thank you,” I tell her, but I mean I’m sorry .
Loss is loss.
But unlike her, I feel like I’m gaining something.
The room she takes me to sits off to the side of the nurses’ station, quiet and only large enough for a round table and four chairs.
“It won’t be long.”
I sigh as she walks away, and I perch on the edge of the table. A tick-tick-tick fills the space from the wooden wall clock, but after a while, a voice drifts in.
A voice I’ll never not recognize.
My muscles freeze over, and a breath shudders out of me. My lungs resist drawing another because the atmosphere’s changed.
The air toxic.
I expect the wave of panic that hits me, for the onslaught of memories following right behind.
But neither level me like they once would. Instead of drowning in fear and retreating, I emerge on the other side to something else. A familiar fury builds in my bloodstream, and a cool calm wraps it. The combination is potent, the same one that drove me to return to Ashfield all those years ago.
Now it drives me into the hall.
The nurse is standing in the doorway to the room beside Daniel’s and glances over her shoulder.
“The Chief has some visitors, hoping for an update…” She trails off, reading me as I stalk toward her and quickly moving aside.
I charge into the small waiting room, and five police officers all snap their attention to me. I lock onto two, shoulder to shoulder. The favorites.
For a second, I’m terrified I might crumble being face-to-face with them after all this time. After their threats and warnings. Only Elvin’s face pales at the sight of me. Marlo swallows before clearing his throat and looking anywhere else.
The panic radiating from them eases my own, and I can see all the way through them.
Weak but without the power or protection.
I glare a second longer, then my eyes shift to the others in the room, all in their black uniforms. I don’t recognize the two guys by the couch, but the blonde woman by the wall I recall. She has a familiar apology in her eyes, but I refocus on the favorites near the window.
Elvin continues avoiding, but the trained attack dog takes a step forward. Only one.
Marlo stops, his voice tight. “Remi?—”
“Get out.” I deliver the command evenly, determined to hide the tremble beneath the surface, the seething. “All of you. No one is approved to visit.”
Elvin casts a nervous glance at Marlo while the others shift awkwardly. I wait for an argument. A challenge.
No one says a damn word.
Even as my pulse races, I cross my arms and turn to the side, reinforcing their need to leave.
The woman relents first with a crease in her forehead, and the two guys trail behind her. She hovers outside in the hallway after they file out, but I’m watching Elvin and Marlo as they cautiously approach me.
I follow with my gaze, neither chancing eye contact. Then I remember they wanted an update, so I give one.
“You were right about what would happen if you ever saw me again, officers,” I say as they pass.
It causes a misstep from Elvin, the meaning no doubt crystal clear to him. Unsurprising since it’s his words I’m referencing. The last thing he shouted through the lake house, in case I could hear, was a reminder that someone will die if they ever see me again.
And here we are.
Their king is dead. Or at least he will be.
A layer of submission graces Marlo’s final look at me before they disappear around the corner. I want to collapse or cry or break the second they’re out of sight, emotional overload hitting hard. But the woman switches from scrutinizing them to analyzing me like she’s trying to piece together the interaction.
Then she comes toward me, reaching into her jacket.
My gaze lowers to the card she holds out. I blink at it and glance up.
“Roman Moore was a good man,” she says. “He was honest and genuine in everything he did. What everyone said happened felt so out of character for him, and … well, none of it lined up with the Roman I knew, but people relapse all the time.”
I stare at her, my heartbeat more frantic now than when confronting the favorites. For the first time, it feels like someone might acknowledge the castle in the sky is just a cloud.
“I wasn’t wrong about him, was I,” she says, not phrasing it as a question, regret weighing heavy in her tone.
It spreads to her face and stance when I shake my head.
“Roman’s still all of those things,” I finally manage. “He celebrated fourteen years of sobriety last summer.”
She urges me to take the card, so I reluctantly accept. I read the name and see the phone number.
“I ignored my instincts when it came to you, and I refuse to do it again.” She checks over her shoulder and then returns to me, talking lower to keep it between us. “Something clearly happened between you and them. My gut’s telling me it was bad, and I’m so sorry for anything I did and didn’t do that led to it. I doubt they’ll try anything now. Not without…” Her eyes dart to the wall separating us from Daniel’s room to fill in the who . “Just know I’ll be watching anyway. I’ll be watching everything from here on, Remi.”
I believe her. I believe she’ll truly see it too.
My lashes stave off a sting of tears. “Thank you, Julie.”
“Will you also tell Roman I’m sorry?” she asks.
“I’ll tell him, but he’ll say you have nothing to apologize for. He’s still a stubborn ass, too.”
Her lips tip up the tiniest bit at the corner before she nods. She points at the card with her eyes as a reminder, then she retreats through the doorway.
After taking the deepest breath of my life, I slowly exhale. Shaky as shit, but I’m in control again, and I follow her out.
On my return to the private room, Julie’s opening one of the ICU doors. I catch a glimpse of Elvin and Marlo through it, and whatever threat they posed seems far away. I’ll never forget it, probably always sense it to some degree. But the air tastes clean instead of caustic, the mouth of teeth muzzled.
I banished the closet’s shadows. Now for its monster.
* * *
Everything moves quickly once I sign the papers, authorizing the doctor to remove the machines. In under fifteen minutes, the doctor’s standing bedside, a different nurse across from her.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a little more time?” she asks.
“No.”
I don’t hesitate with the answer this time. I don’t need to.
All the pretending is over. I’m calling wrap and burning the set to ash. Daniel can burn with it, and he can do it alone.
When I move toward the door, Dr. Sullivan says, “You don’t want to stay?”
I shake my head at her. “I’ve done what I came here to do.”
Without another word, I walk out. I don’t even waste a glance on what’s about to become a body.
A lightness unfurls in my chest, a sense of completion accompanying it. No one ever said beautiful things needed to be tangible. And the sensation of finally leaving all this behind is absolutely a beautiful thing.
There’s no question about who I want to share it with.
Foster won’t be on stage for a while, so I pull out my phone to text him, opening one of the ICU doors. Once through, I look up, and it whooshes shut behind me as I come to a hard stop. My brow lowers at the sight farther down near the elevator bank.
Colton’s leaning back against a wall, scrolling on his own phone.
“Hi.”
Every part of me free falls at Foster’s voice. My head jerks to the side, and he’s there. Against his own wall, his head tipped back.
“You—uh, what?” It makes as much sense as him being here, honestly.
He cocks a brow, bringing his head up, and I try again.
“Why are you here? What about your concert?”
“Rescheduled it.” He straightens, the bomber jacket he wore in Prague open with a dark tee underneath.
“Can you do that?”
Closing the space between us, he shrugs. “Probably.”
His fingers skim my cheek on their way to push my hair back. They linger, and mine immediately grip the front of his shirt. Leather and cedar envelop me. I stare up at him as his other hand settles against the side of my neck.
“You’re really here,” I whisper.
“Mhmm,” he replies.
I smile, and he kisses me, softly, gently, then he kisses me like the first time wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t. It can’t be with him.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say while he drags the tip of his nose along mine. “You shouldn’t be. I want you here, but why are you here, Foster?”
He sweeps his thumb over my skin. “I have always come for you, Remi. I always will.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I finally let them fall. Warm lips chase them before pressing to mine. Not caring where we are, I push onto my toes for more. I missed his lips and tongue and touch—him.
Even when I tried to forget, part of me always missed him. Part of me always belonged to him.
He said if I let him inside me, he might never leave. But the truth is, Foster West has been there all along. The wandering boy embedded in my soul and stayed there through it all.
Now all of him is mine. Really, truly mine.