Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Ripley (Ripper)
Sit down, they tell me.
You need to rest.
You'll open your stitches, they warn.
You can't help her if you're bleeding out.
Lie down, or I'll make you. They sound far away.
All those voices, the ones demanding I take it easy and get off my feet so my stab wound has a chance at healing, mean absolutely nothing to me. The only words that pique my interest are about Cassidy.
I'm not here for me. Cassie is my focus. I could lose all the blood in my body and still be standing at the foot of her bed like the sentry I should have been this whole time.
She was beaten and tortured. All because I took my eyes off her. I knew I shouldn't have left. I fucking knew it. My woman just told me she suffers from chronic pain, and I what? Left her in an office so I could get to church on time?
There's no excuse for the part I played in her captivity. I wasn't what I should have been for her. Cassie needed me, and I did nothing.
Putting Jake on her when I couldn't be there? Well that was my first mistake. I'll never leave her side again. Fuck responsibilities, Cassie is everything now.
Every murmured encouragement goes over my head. Each touch on my shoulders or worried tug of my arm doesn't pull me from the depths of my anguish.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I'm worrying everyone, but at the forefront all I can think is why? Look at our woman. Give her your energy and concern. I'm fucking fine which is more than I can say for Cassie.
That...that statement will never be true ever again. I'll break every bone in my body myself before she gets so much as a papercut.
Logic tries to nudge me back to reality. Cassie has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, and as an outsider there's not much I can do to help. She will live a life of discomfort and pain if she's not careful with her body.
I'll monitor and remind her to do her stretches. Everything and anything I will help with. She just has to wake up first.
"Ripley, honey."
Parker's mom is here now. Soon she'll realize I'm not really in the building. Not until Cassie opens her eyes. I will wait until the end of time.
"Rip, you need to drink something," Mom says, her blonde hair flickering in my vision for a beat before it tunnels back to Cassie. "Has he had anything to eat?"
"No," Maddox responds to her. "We've tried to get him to sit, but he won't. He’s been like this for hours."
I don't mind them talking about me. Now that they have each other to talk to, they'll stop asking me questions.
Parker's dad's face pops in front of mine. It's a bit disconcerting when my gaze literally blurs if I'm not staring directly at my woman. I can't help it.
"Son, you're in shock," Dad tells me as if I'll care. "You've lost a lot of blood, Ripley."
And? Cassie lost more.
Two large hands grip my shoulders, and Dad's face tries to come into focus, but I don't allow it.
I prefer it here in this odd subspace where all I can think about is protecting Cassie for the rest of my life.
If I snap out of it, I fear I'll obsess over her wounds, what Victor did to her, and the complete devastation waiting to swallow me whole.
"You need water, food, and rest."
I've heard these words before. They still don't matter.
"If you want to protect her, you need to be at full strength."
Kicking my legs out from under me would have been less effective than the truth Dad just wounded me with. The knife in my side hurt less than the realization that I'm not enough. I wasn't there for her yesterday, and today I'm too weak to do much if anyone comes through those hospital doors.
I'm failing her again.
I don't know when I collapse, who pushes a chair behind my knees, or when a straw is shoved in my mouth. Each gulp brings the memories back to the surface.
Nausea swims in my gut as I recall the chains clanking around her. I can't puke. If I'm going to be her protector, I have to hold my shit together.
Can I heal and still keep the shit locked away?
I don't think there's any other choice.
Being strong for her is my only task. I won't drown. Faltering isn't an option.
I'll eat the granola bar, drink the water, and rest my stitches. In no way does that mean I'll take my eyes off her limp frame being swallowed in gauze, tubes, and sickly white sheets.
I'm going to do better, Cassie. I'll be better for you.