31 | The cavalry’s arrived
31 | the cavalry’s arrived
CARA
I could barely believe my eyes when Jason and I parked outside the hospital. A woman was exiting the building, sobbing, and the mere sight of her made my blood run cold. She wiped her tear-streaked cheeks, her caramel-coloured hair falling messily around that face – so hauntingly familiar, so deceptively beautiful. The curve of her jawline, the set of her shoulders – it was unmistakable. The sunlight hit her brown skin, giving it that same warm glow that once made her seem almost angelic. But now, all I felt was a tightening knot of disgust in my stomach.
Francesca.
The name echoed in my mind like a curse. She was the last person I expected – or wanted – to see. And yet, there she was, walking through the car park as if she had any right to be here, as if she wasn’t the reason William had been lying in a hospital bed for the past two weeks.
A surge of nausea and fury rose in me, and I gripped the steering wheel to keep myself from bolting out of the car. What the hell was she doing here? The urge to confront her, to scream at her to stay the hell away, to unleash every ounce of hatred I’d been harbouring, was almost unbearable.
Jason’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, but it felt distant, as if coming from underwater. ‘Who’s that?’
He must have seen the horror on my face. Unable to tear my eyes off her, I whispered, ‘It’s Francesca.’
‘What?’ Jason’s voice exploded with shock and anger. In an instant, he threw open the door and stormed out of the car. ‘Hey! You! What the fuck are you doing here?’
Francesca froze mid-step, her hazel eyes snapping to Jason, wide with fear, like a deer caught in the headlights. She looked small, almost shrinking into herself as his words lashed out at her. I hurried out of the car, my pulse thudding with a blend of rage and dread. As soon as I rounded the front, Francesca’s eyes darted to mine, and I saw the fear deepen in her gaze. Her whole body tensed as if bracing for the onslaught.
‘I-I was j-just leaving,’ she stammered, her voice shaky and fragile. She quickly turned away.
‘Don’t you fucking dare show your face around here again!’ Jason’s voice was a roar, spilling with a fury that was deafening. ‘Do you hear me? You stay the hell away from him! From all of us!’
Francesca flinched, her shoulders hunching as if she could somehow make herself invisible. She didn’t even attempt to argue, to defend herself. She started to move faster, desperate to get away, but Jason wasn’t finished.
‘You’ve done enough damage!’ he spat, taking another menacing step toward her. ‘Don’t you ever come near him again, or I swear—’
‘Jason, stop,’ I said, my voice brimming with controlled anger as I finally found the strength to speak. I gripped his arm tightly, feeling the tremors of rage coursing through him, the raw, unchecked fury just beneath the surface. His whole body was taut with the desire to do something, anything, to make her pay.
I fixed Francesca with a glare that burned with a hatred words could never fully express. I wanted to scream at her, to unleash every bit of pain she’d caused. But I forced myself to stay in control, to be more than the darkness she had brought over us.
‘Go ahead and leave, Francesca,’ I said. ‘You’ve done enough damage to last a lifetime. But don’t think for a second that we’ll ever forgive you. William could’ve died because of you.’
Francesca’s eyes flickered back to me, and for a moment, I saw something that looked like contrition in her gaze. But it wasn’t enough – not nearly enough. Without another word, she turned and fled, her footsteps quickening as she nearly broke into a run.
As she disappeared around the corner, I realised my hands were trembling. The rage, the pain – it all threatened to spill over, but I willed myself to hold it together.
Jason stood tense, his chest heaving with the weight of his anger. I could still feel the tremors running through his arm, pulsing against my grip. For a moment, neither of us moved, as if Francesca’s departure hadn’t fully released us from the grip of our fury.
‘Jase,’ I murmured, searching his face for any sign that he was calming down. His jaw was clenched so tight I feared it might crack under the pressure, his eyes still fixed on the spot where Francesca had disappeared.
Finally, he exhaled, a sharp breath that seemed to take some of the tension with it. He looked down at me, his expression softening just a fraction.
‘You okay?’ he asked, though his voice was still rough around the edges, tinged with residual anger.
‘Yeah,’ I replied, though I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it. My heart was still pounding, and the adrenaline was still making my hands shake. ‘Are you?’
He nodded, but his eyes betrayed him – still dark, still simmering. ‘Let’s just go to William.’
We walked toward the hospital entrance in silence. Jason’s hands were balled into fists at his sides, and I could see the stiffness in his broad shoulders, the way he was holding himself together by sheer willpower. I wasn’t much better – my own body felt taut, coiled, as if one wrong word might send me spiralling again.
We passed through the sliding doors, the sterile scent of the hospital washing over us, doing little to calm my frayed nerves. As we navigated the labyrinth of corridors, I kept glancing at Jason, checking he was okay. Each time, he gave me a tight nod, as if we were silently agreeing to maintain our composure.
Finally, we arrived at William’s room. I paused just outside, taking a deep breath to steady myself before Jason swung the door open. The sight of William, still pale but looking more alive than the last time I’d seen him, brought a wave of relief crashing over me, pushing back the lingering anger.
He looked up, a small, weary smile tugging at his lips. ‘Brilliant. The cavalry’s arrived,’ he said, his voice weak but warm. ‘Does this mean I’m finally sprung?’
Jason let out a breath he’d been holding, the last of his tension finally easing away as he stepped forward. ‘Something like that,’ he said, his tone softer now.
I followed him in, my hand resting lightly on his back, a gesture of reassurance as much for myself as for him.
‘Thank God,’ William said on a loud breath, rising from the bed. ‘I was beginning to think you’d left me to become part of the furniture here.’
I approached William slowly, noting the faint traces of apprehension flickering across his features despite the smile he wore. It didn’t take much to guess what – or rather who – had put that look on his face.
His eyes darted between Jason and me, as if trying to gauge the mood.
‘We saw Francesca on our way in,’ I said, observing his reaction.
William’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, hard look that I’d never seen on his face before. The apprehension in his eyes turned to something darker – resentment, laced with a deep revulsion. He nodded, a resigned sort of acceptance in the gesture. ‘Yeah. She was just here.’
I exchanged a glance with Jason, who was now leaning against the wall, his fists no longer clenched but still held tensely at his sides. I took a step closer to William, searching his face. ‘What did she want?’
‘She wanted to apologise.’ William spat out the words as if they tasted foul. Jason’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, letting William continue. ‘I didn’t expect it,’ he admitted, his voice quieter now, more reflective. ‘But she was… She seemed genuinely sorry. Not that it changes anything.’ He looked away, staring at some distant point on the wall. ‘It doesn’t undo what she’s done. But I think she needed to say it.’
My mind raced with a thousand things I wanted to ask – why now? What did she think an apology would do? – but I bit my tongue, knowing it wouldn’t help. The last thing William needed was more anger, more hurt.
I reached up, gently stroking his cheek. ‘Are you okay?’
He met my gaze, and the vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke me. ‘I will be,’ he said, leaning into my hand as if drawing strength from the contact. ‘It’s just… It’s a lot.’
Jason stepped closer, his anger visibly resurfacing as he saw the exhaustion on William’s face. ‘We’re here, Will. We’ve got you.’
‘She nearly got me killed,’ William said, his voice shaking now. ‘I’ve been lying in that bed because of her. And she thinks an apology is going to make it better? Like it can just erase everything she’s done?’
‘Why the hell did you let her in?’ Jason asked, his voice low and filled with the same blazing fury that had carried him through the confrontation outside.
William’s eyes met Jason’s. ‘I let her in so that I could tell her I don’t ever want to see her again, and that I won’t ever forgive her,’ he said, each word enunciated with icy clarity. ‘Not for what she did to me. Not for what she did to Cara. To all of us.’
The room fell silent, the weight of William’s words pressing down on us. My throat tightened, a mixture of anger and sorrow permeating my chest.
Carefully, I put my hand on William’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. ‘Good. She doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.’
William looked at me, and the hardness in his eyes softened just a fraction, enough to reveal the exhaustion, the pain that still lingered beneath his anger. ‘I just want to move on. I want to forget she ever existed.’
‘And we will,’ I assured him, stretching up to kiss him.
Jason stepped forward, his voice firm but supportive. ‘Let’s get you home, Will.’
William nodded, his expression still grim but resolute. ‘Yeah, let’s get out of here.’
With that, Jason and I helped him gather his things and change out of his hospital gown into comfortable, grey joggers and a loose, blue jumper. As we walked out of the hospital together, we exchanged a look, one that spoke volumes about everything we’d just gone through, and everything we still had to face. But for now, we were here, together, and that was enough.
§ § §
The sound of frantic button-mashing and bursts of laughter filled William’s recreation room as we battled it out on the screen. The past few days, Mario Kart had been our pick for a bit of friendly competition, but today it felt different – lighter, almost cathartic. Jason let out a triumphant yell as his character sped past mine, narrowly avoiding a red shell.
‘You’re not getting away with that!’ I exclaimed, my thumb jamming down on the controller.
Beside me, William chuckled softly, his eyes glued to the screen. His right arm, still encased in a cast now covered in a chaotic mix of signatures and doodles, moved with surprising dexterity on the controller. I couldn’t help but smile at how determined he was to play, even with the limited movement. His bruised eye, once a deep shade of purple, was finally fading back to normal, a small but welcome sign that he was healing – at least physically.
The sound of his laugh echoed like a warm melody in my mind. It was the kind of laugh I hadn’t heard in what felt like ages, one that wasn’t weighed down by everything that had happened. For a brief moment, it was just us, four friends caught up in the chaos of a virtual race, the world outside forgotten.
Olivia was on the edge of her seat, her controller held in a white-knuckled grip as she tried to overtake Jason’s Luigi. ‘I swear, if you hit me with another shell, I’m going to—’
‘Going to what?’ Jason interrupted, his voice full of mischief as he expertly manoeuvred around a banana peel. ‘You’re all talk, love.’
William’s grin widened as he watched Olivia’s Peach swerve, narrowly avoiding disaster. I caught the gleam in his eyes, the same one he used to get when he was up to something. It was a small glimpse of the William we knew – the one who hadn’t been burdened by the assault.
‘Come on, Livy,’ William urged, a note of playful challenge in his tone. ‘Show him who’s boss.’
But Jason was relentless, his Luigi charging ahead with a final burst of speed. A chorus of groans erupted as he overtook us all in the final lap, his self-satisfied grin matching the victory music blaring from the telly.
‘You’re far too smug for your own good,’ Olivia muttered, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow.
I glanced at William, who was leaning back on the sofa, a relaxed smile on his lips. It was good to see him like this – normal, carefree, like nothing had ever gone wrong – even if I knew it was only temporary.
The past few days had been filled with moments like this – brief respites where we could almost pretend everything was back to normal. But the nights told a different story. William had been having nightmares, vivid and terrifying, the kind that left him whimpering and shouting in his sleep, drenched in sweat when he finally jolted awake.
He never talked about them, not even when I pressed him. He’d just brush it off, insisting he was fine, that it was nothing. But I could see the strain on his face, the way his hands trembled slightly whenever he thought no one was looking. The nightmares were eating away at him, even if he refused to admit it.
It hurt. It hurt to know that despite our best efforts, despite all the moments of laughter and distraction, the trauma still had its claws deep in him. I wanted to help him, to make it all go away, but I felt powerless. The William I knew was still there, but he was buried under layers of pain and fear that he wouldn’t – or couldn’t – talk about.
And as much as I wanted to push, to force him to open up, I knew better. William was stubborn, and if he wasn’t ready to talk, no amount of coaxing would make him. All I could do was be there, to offer what comfort I could and hope that, in time, he’d find a way to heal.
The sound of the game resetting on the telly pulled me from my thoughts, and I forced a smile, trying to shake off the melancholy that had settled over me. This was William’s time, and he deserved to enjoy it without the weight of my worries pressing down on him.
‘Ready for another round?’ I asked, still looking at William.
He met my gaze, smirking. ‘Yeah, why not? I’m not done kicking your arse just yet.’
‘And I’m not done kicking yours, either,’ Jason chimed in, his eyes on William.
‘Thanks for being my brother, Jason. I often appreciate you. But this is not one of those times.’
‘He’s the Pumba to your Timon, actually,’ I interjected. William looked utterly bewildered. Had he forgotten he said that?
‘What?’
‘Yes, you said it yourself when you were high on meds.’
He scoffed, his eyes briefly flickering toward Jason’s amused expression. ‘Fuck that, I’m Mufasa. He’s Simba.’
I giggled. ‘What does that make John?’
‘Useless.’
I wheezed, but the sound was drowned out by Jason’s guffaw. ‘Brutal!’
William chuckled. ‘Only joking.’
We started another cup, and this time, the competition felt even fiercer. Olivia, determined not to let Jason’s gloating continue, played with a focused intensity that made the rest of us scramble to keep up.
‘You’re all in trouble now,’ she said, her voice filled with mock-seriousness as she expertly manoeuvred Peach through the last course. I exchanged a glance with William, who was grinning, clearly enjoying the shift in energy.
It didn’t take long before Olivia took the lead, her Peach outpacing the rest of us. Jason, lingering mostly in second place, threw everything he had at her – red shells, banana peels, even a well-timed blue shell – but she dodged and weaved through it all, determined to claim victory.
In the final lap, we all knew it was over. Olivia crossed the finish line first, raising her controller in triumph as the rest of us groaned in defeat.
‘Finally,’ she said, a satisfied smile on her face as the victory music played. ‘That’s more like it.’
‘Well done, love,’ William said, leaning back with a genuine smile.
Jason shook his head. ‘I’ll get you in the rematch.’
Olivia laughed, ‘We’ll see about that.’
I noticed William’s eyes starting to droop, his energy waning despite his best efforts to stay engaged. I glanced at Jason, who caught my eye and gave a subtle nod. It was time to call it a night.
‘Well, I think that’s our cue,’ Jason said, stretching as he stood up. ‘I’ve had enough of losing for one night.’
Olivia snorted, but there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at William. ‘Thanks for having us, Will. I hope you get a good night’s rest.’
‘Thanks,’ William replied, his voice a bit quieter now.
After quick goodbyes and a few more light-hearted jabs, Jason and Olivia headed out, leaving the room feeling quieter, almost too quiet.
I turned to William, who was still on the sofa, his expression softer, more vulnerable. ‘You look knackered,’ I said gently. ‘Does sleep sound good?’
He hesitated, his eyes flickering with that same unspoken dread I’d seen before, but then he nodded. ‘Yeah.’
I offered him my hand, and he took it, letting me help him up. As we walked together toward his bedroom, I could feel the weight of his exhaustion, both physical and emotional.
Once there, I helped him undress and then joined him in the shower. The water cascaded over us, seeming to ease some of the tension from his muscles, but I could see the strain it took for him to remain upright. I gently lathered soap onto his skin, my hands careful around the tender areas, especially the scar on his bicep that still looked raw and angry.
My heart ached as I traced the closed wound with my fingertips, the memory of that night flashing through my mind. The sight of him like this – vulnerable, yet so strong – made my chest tighten with sorrow and fierce protectiveness. I wanted to take away all his pain, to heal him completely, but I knew it wasn’t that simple.
After we finished, I wrapped a towel around him, pressing a tender kiss to his shoulder. He looked at me, his eyes soft, a silent gratitude passing between us as I guided him to the basin. I watched as he slowly brushed his teeth, struggling slightly with the movement. Once he was done, I led him out of the en-suite with a gentle hand on his back.
‘Let’s get you comfortable,’ I murmured as we reached his bed, helping him settle in. He winced slightly as he adjusted his arms.
‘You sure you’re all right?’ I asked and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
He looked up at me, his eyes tired but grateful. ‘Yes. Thanks, darling.’
I leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on his temple. ‘Good.’
As I pulled back, his gaze lingered on my bare form. ‘Keep still for a moment, please,’ he said, his eyes appreciatively tracing my contours. ‘You should enjoy your break, you know. Once I’m back to full strength, I’ll be making up for lost time.’
‘Oh my God …’
‘Oh, your God, indeed.’ He smirked. ‘I demand a no-clothes policy while you’re living here.’
‘In your dreams, Will.’ Grinning, I shook my head as I walked around the bed and climbed in beside him.
‘Actually, I take that back,’ he murmured after a pause. ‘Since we can’t have sex at the moment, I shouldn’t torture myself like that. Terrible idea.’
‘Duly noted. Behave, or I shall torment you.’
‘Fuck.’
‘That’s right.’ I nestled closer, breathing in his intoxicating scent, letting it fill my senses. ‘Time to sleep, darling.’
As if the endearment had reminded him, he said incredulously, ‘You called me Oedipus in the beginning.’
I burst out laughing, amused by the direction his thoughts had taken.
‘And I called you Sandra,’ he went on.
I laughed even harder, the memory still as funny as ever. ‘That was priceless. You kept calling me Sandra while we had sex the first time. Talk about role-play.’
‘It was bloody rude.’
‘It wasn’t personal,’ I chuckled.
‘So you’ve said, but consider this: I’d honestly grown attached to that name by the time you were introduced under a different one.’
I sniggered and kissed his shoulder. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘I like Cara, though. It’s a pretty name.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’ve actually looked it up. Did you know it means “dear” in Italian?’
I smiled, touched by the gesture. ‘Yes.’
He met my gaze, his eyes softening. ‘I quite like that when I call you by your name, it’s actually an endearment in itself.’
My smile widened further. ‘Did you look up your own?’ I asked, stroking his chest.
‘Yeah. Apparently, it means “strong-willed warrior”.’
I pulled back slightly, tittering. ‘You’re joking.’
‘I’m not,’ he replied, his lips twisting with amusement.
Another laugh bubbled up from me. ‘Really? “Strong-willed warrior”? Your name could not be more suitable!’
He grinned, clearly enjoying my reaction. ‘I know. I’m literally epic.’
‘You are.’ I propped myself up on my elbow beside him and leaned in for a kiss. Our lips met tenderly, moving together in that effortless synchrony that was uniquely ours. The familiar sensation was exhilarating, a reminder of how right it felt to be with him. But as he deepened the kiss, teasing my tongue with his own, frustration surged through me. I hated that we couldn’t go further, hated Oliver and Francesca for nearly taking away the man I loved so deeply.
When William’s arm curled around my waist, pulling me closer, I forced myself to break the kiss.
‘Don’t,’ I whispered, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. ‘You need to be careful, Will.’
He let out a moan of annoyance. ‘I bloody hate this. I want to make love to you.’
I gave him a sympathetic smile, cupping his cheek with my hand as I studied his face. ‘And you will, once you’re better. For now, I’m perfectly content making a different kind of love to you – with words and gentle touches.’
His eyes softened, the tension in his expression fading as he held my gaze. ‘You’re everything to me, you know that?’
I traced my thumb along his chiselled jawline, feeling the roughness of his stubble. ‘And you’re everything to me.’ Gently, I ran my fingers through his hair, letting the strands slip between them as I memorised the feel of him, the warmth of his skin, the way his breath hitched slightly under my touch. There was something so fragile about this moment, yet so profoundly strong – like we were rebuilding something that had been broken, piece by piece.
‘I love you, William,’ I said, leaning in to press another tender kiss to his lips. ‘More than anything.’
‘And I love you, Cara,’ he murmured, his voice filled with quiet conviction as he returned the kiss.