Chapter 56 Harriet
FIFTY-SIX
HARRIET
Helplessness is a rare emotion I’ve experienced. When my mom died unexpectedly, there was no time to say goodbye. A bright light one second, gone the next.
The same hollow sensation suffocates me as Marcus and I hurry through the hospital corridors. Is this how Warren felt when he came storming to the hospital after the deer jumped out in front of Parker’s car?
This seems worse.
For one, Warren wasn’t conscious to call me the way I did him.
“There’s been a gas explosion. Warren and a probie were in the vicinity and are on their way to the hospital,” Marcus explained. “He’s unconscious but breathing. His turnout gear took most of the brunt.”
We turn the corner, and the crowd of men and women in firefighter gear tells me we’re in the right place. I hover behind Marcus as he strides over to another man I know as Lyle, the station’s lieutenant.
“What happened?” Marcus asks.
Lyle scrubs a hand over his soot-covered face. “The crews were sweeping the area, searching for the main heat source and mitigating risks, when a unit filled with dozens of propane tanks blew. Anders didn’t lose consciousness and said O’Connor dragged him out of the path of the blast just in time.”
“Of course he did.” Marcus curses under his breath. “How are they both?”
“Bruised. Couple of fractured ribs for O’Connor. Both will need to be monitored for concussions, but the docs think they’ll be discharged soon.”
A dam breaks. The stress and worry from the last few hours floods out of me as a broken sob bursts from my lips. I slap a hand over my mouth when the two men swivel to look at me.
“Ah, fuck. Harriet, he’ll be okay.” Marcus pulls me into a hug.
It does little to ease the dread coiling in my stomach, tightening with every second. I want Warren’s arms around me, nothing else.
“Can I see him?” I croak, eyes flitting around the corridor.
“Of course.” Lyle waves down a doctor. “He’s in and out of sleep, and you’re the only person he asks about whenever he comes to.”
“I’ll get you some water while I call his parents,” Marcus says. “Can I get you anything else?”
I shake my head, and Lyle jerks his chin to a half-open doorway. “He’s in there. Might be a little loopy from the painkillers, and his face is a bit beat.”
“Thank you.”
I slowly push the door open, and my heart cracks at the sight.
Warren’s huge frame swallows the tiny hospital bed.
There’s an oxygen tube under his nose and swelling across the right side of his face.
He sleeps peacefully, giving me the opportunity to check every inch of him.
I stop at his side and run my fingers through his messy hair covered in dirt and rubble.
I reach for a tissue to clean his face when a rough voice graces my ears.
“Sweetheart. You’re here.”
Beautiful brown eyes watch me, blinking through the fog of sleep, a half-smile picking up the edge of his mustache. Even black and blue, he’s still devastatingly handsome.
I swat away the tears, not wanting to worry him. Too late.
“You’re sad.” He frowns. “I hate it when you’re sad.”
My laugh is wet as I perch on the edge of the bed, careful of the wires and not to jostle him. “And I hate it when you’re hurt.”
His eyes fall closed, a long sigh escaping him. “I’m sorry.”
“Warren, don’t you dare apologize,” I say, but he continues as if I haven’t spoken.
“I’ve been hurting for so long. The pain never stopped.” He taps his chest, wincing a little. “It still hurts. Today makes it hurt. But you’re here now. My beautiful Harriet.”
My heart seizes at the emotion straining his voice, face distorted in pain. It’s the same look he wore when he told me about the call that caused his PTSD. I wish he’d felt safe to share the true details of that night, and while I still can’t truly comprehend his intentions, my questions can wait.
“I wish I could take away your pain.” I trace a finger down his jaw.
“It’s nearly over. Tomorrow, it’ll stop.” His drowsy eyes meet mine before fluttering closed, and he relaxes into the mattress.
“He’ll need someone to stay with him once he’s discharged and to wake him every few hours.” I turn to find Marcus standing in the doorway. “He’ll stay with you?”
“Of course.” My laugh is flat. “I’ve never actually seen his house. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
Marcus looks at the floor, shaking his head gently.
Tears blur my vision. This time, I let them flow freely. “You’re a good friend. I know he’s gone through something terrible, and I’m trying to be patient and supportive, but at what point do I accept he doesn’t want to share that part of his life with me?”
I’m backing Marcus into a corner, which isn’t fair.
“Forget it.” I fan my face. “Do you think he’ll mind if we get some clothes from his house? There isn’t much at mine, and I want him to be comfortable.”
“Let’s go now before he wakes again.” Marcus gestures toward the corridor. “Most of his stuff is probably packed in preparation for the sale.”
With one last glance over my shoulder, I plead silently with Warren to be okay. To trust me fully. To not let whatever demons threaten to haunt him today win.
“He blames himself for Alison’s death.” Marcus’s words make me pause outside the hospital room.
“It’s been years since he’s opened up to me about it.
Me, Diana, his parents—we all try to discuss it with him, not because we want to bring him pain, but because he’s carried a burden he doesn’t deserve for too long.
He’s become accustomed to the weight, and last year, before his suspension, I was worried it was dragging him back to a dark place again. ”
“And then I came along?” I echo what he and Ben previously said.
“If you met Warren years earlier, you wouldn’t recognize him.
He’s far from perfect, Harriet, we all are, but there was a darkness I worried he’d never return from.
So don’t underestimate the power you have.
” He swallows, emotion clogging his voice.
“You gave me back my best friend. You gave him reason.”
“Reason to what?”
His eyes float to the hospital bed. “To try. To hope. To live again.”