Chapter Forty-two
I stare at the blood on my hands. It’s dried now, making my skin feel tight and trapped beneath my nails, the color of rust.
Juni’s blood.
My heart is on a table, surrounded by doctors trying to save her life.
She lost a lot of blood, but they kept her stable until they got her to the hospital. Now I’m waiting for them to tell me I can breathe again.
She’s been in surgery for over an hour now, and I haven’t heard a peep from any of her doctors.
I thought I’d lost her when she slipped unconscious back at the cabin. The only thing that kept me sane was the feeling of her pulse thumping slowly against the tips of my fingers. It felt like forever waiting for the emergency services to arrive.
Darcy is in the same hospital, though I know nothing of her condition. She was awake when she was taken away with a police escort, but she didn’t make a sound. Not a single word.
Dropping my head into my hands, I try not to break, but I feel it in my chest, the crack, the unbearable pain that comes with the idea of losing her.
A hand touches my shoulder. “She’ll pull through.” Roman says gently.
I thought I knew pain. I’ve felt it enough over the years, both the emotional and physical kind, but no one warns you what it’s like to have your heart on the outside of your body or how it would feel when it’s taken from you.
It takes nearly three hours for a doctor to come and find us. My body aches, my chest hurts, but I bolt up from the chair the moment he steps into the room.
“Mr. Knight?” He looks at me and then at the clipboard in his hand.
“Yes,” I rush out, “Where is she?”
“Resting,” he tucks the clipboard under his arm. “We were able to retrieve the bullet and repair the damage, but she did require a transfusion for the blood loss.”
“Can I see her?”
“I can only allow one visitor at a time, but yes, you can sit with her. She’s still asleep, and it may take a few hours for the effects of the anesthesia to wear off.”
“Where is she?”
“Room seventy-four.”
I don’t wait around. I shove out the door and search for her room, my heart in my throat. The moment I see her, hear the steady beat of her heart monitor, and see her mess of blonde hair, I break.
The door clicks closed behind me, and my feet scuff across the sterile blue floor before I collapse into the chair beside her bed and grasp her hand. She still feels too cold; her skin looks too pale, but her chest is moving. She is breathing. Her heart is beating.
I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her skin, my cheeks turning wet as tears I’ve held back stream down my face.
At some point sleep claimed me, lulled under by the steady beat of her heart monitor, but now the room is dark with only a small, dim light on behind the bed.
“Silas,” her voice has my spine straightening, and my heart speeding up. Whipping my head around, I see her sitting up slightly in the bed; her eyelids heavy, but she’s awake. “Hi.” She squeaks.
I’m moving before I’ve even had time to think, my hands cupping her face as I press my forehead to hers, trying to catch my breath and form words.
“I’m okay,” she says quietly, reading my mind.
“I thought I'd lost you,” I rasp.
She lifts her hand and places it over mine. “I’m here.”
“Are you hurting?” Pulling back, I meet her dark eyes, keeping my hands on her face, soaking in the feel of her.
“No,” she shakes her head, shifting stiffly to get more comfortable. I give her some space, but I don’t go far, keeping her hands touching mine as if that’ll be enough to keep her here with me. Truthfully, I need it. That contact, her skin on mine.
“Darcy?” She asks after a moment.
“She was brought here,” I swallow, “I don’t know much else, but I made a statement. She won’t be able to hurt you again.”
“She needs help, Silas,” Juni says sadly. “She’s ill.”
Lowering back into the chair, I tuck her hand into both of mine. “Don’t worry about her.”
Her eyes drop to where we are connected, “Calvin’s dead.”
I keep watching her face, watching the emotions play over it. I can see how exhausted she is; the dark shadows under her eyes a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin.
“And I feel like a monster.”
“Why?” I press.
“Because I’m not sad,” she flicks her glazed eyes to me, “I’m relieved.”
“That doesn’t make you a monster, Honeybee,” I tell her gently. “It makes you human. He made your life a nightmare.”
“I don’t think he should have died,” she whispers, “But I thought I’d feel more.”
I squeeze her hand.
“He’s gone. It’s over.”
“We have forever now,” I lower my head so I can catch her eyes, “If you still want it with me.”
Her bottom lip wobbles. “I want it. I want it all with you.”