54. Christian
CHRISTIAN
E verything fucking aches.
That’s the only way I know I survived.
My chest is on fire, and a dull pain spreads throughout my body when I first open my eyes to a steady beep filling the room.
That shit’s annoying.
My vision is blurry, but I reach around for whatever’s making the noise with every intent of throwing it at a wall.
Sleep.
I just want to sleep.
“No,” a soft voice says, gentle hands taking mine and laying them back at my side. I’m too fucking weak to fight them as sleep threatens to drag me back under.
And then I remember what happened.
“Mila . . .” I breathe, my voice hoarse and sore.
“I’m here,” she says softly from above me. My eyes threaten to drift shut, but soft gray ones loom over me, peering down at me with a tenderness that makes everything hurt worse.
Fuck, maybe I did die.
Maybe this is my hell. Knowing she’s here but not being able to hold her.
“Shhh . . .” she soothes, and I hadn’t even realized I was speaking until her finger presses to my lips. Tears pool in her gaze, and she leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead I can’t even feel.
Fuck, this must be some kind of sick joke.
“Go to sleep . . .” she whispers, and I try to fight it, shaking my head, but before I can tell her I love her, I slip into the inky blackness, fading off into unconsciousness once again.
The second time I wake up, it’s because I have to piss like fucking crazy.
I groan when pain erupts throughout my chest when I attempt to roll over, struggling against the hands that try to push me back to the bed.
“Stop fucking moving, dickhead,” a voice growls, and instantly, I know who it is.
When my eyesight focuses, Levi is staring down at me, his eye bruised and his mouth set in a grim line.
“You’ll pull something.”
Feels like I already did.
Looking around, I’m in the hospital with monitors and screens lining the wall, all offering an insight into the fact that I’m, somehow, still alive. An IV’s in my arm, and I tug it out, not even feeling the pull of the needle leaving my skin.
I fucking hate needles.
“Mila?” I know she was fucking here. Where the hell did she go?
“She’s asleep in the chair behind you, and I swear to God, if you wake her up, I’ll put a third bullet in you,” Levi grumbles. “Poor thing’s been a nervous wreck.”
I grit my teeth, shoving his hand off my shoulder, and force my legs to stand from the bed. I’m shaky and weak, and my head’s spinning the moment I’m on my feet. I would never admit it to him, but I’m actually glad when Levi wraps his arms around me because, without him, I would have fallen on my fucking face.
“What the hell are you doing?” he growls, shuffling with me like we’re two elderly patients out for a stroll.
“Going to piss. Is that okay?” Why can’t he shut the fuck up? I don’t want Mila to wake up and see me like this.
“I’ll help you.”
I start to snap back and tell him I can do it myself, but I know I can’t, so I let him help me to the bathroom.
“I don’t need you to hold it for me,” I grit, and he holds up his hands, turning back to the room.
I’m supposed to be the older brother. The one always in control. I’m supposed to be stronger than this, but yet, here the fuck I am, pissing—with a lot of fucking difficulty—while my brother waits to walk me back to bed.
Pathetic. My only saving grace is that Mila isn’t awake to see me struggling. Weak.
“You’re a fucking dumbass,” Levi grits the moment I’m back in bed. He takes the chair beside me, his gaze softening when he looks to the corner chair behind me. I haven’t looked at her yet. Some part of me feels like if I do, I’ll realize she’s not real, and this was all some fucked-up dream.
“How is she?” I ask quietly. I can deal with it if she’s pissed off and hates me when she wakes up. We’re already married, which means it’ll be hell for her to get away from me.
I wasn’t lying when I told her I’m not a good man. She’s mine, and I’m hers. Now that I’ve got her, there’s not a fucking judge in the world that will take her from me.
If she’s broken, though . . . If I broke her again, sent her spiraling back down into that dark place she was in when I first found her almost three months ago . . . I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.?
“You don’t deserve her,” he says after a moment, his stare hard. “She is the best thing that fucking happened to you—”
“You’re right.”
“—and you throw it all the fuck away—” he pauses when he realizes what I’d said, cocking a brow at me. “What?”
“I don’t deserve her . . . but she’s mine. I’m not giving her up.”
“Well, you almost died. What the fuck were you thinking?” he grits, working hard to keep his voice low.
My jaw clenches, my stomach unruly from all the meds they’ve been pumping in me through that damned needle.
“I was thinking that the man who killed our mother, raped my wife, and then thought he could kill her wasn’t going to get the chance to try every again.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Levi grumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He could have killed you.”
“But he didn’t.”
He lets out a huff, but he doesn’t fight back, though I can see he wants to. I get it. He’s mad because he was scared. Levi doesn’t get scared.
“I’ve got to hand it to her. She’s a fucking badass,” he murmurs, his gaze on Mila behind me.
I finally allow myself to look at her, and when I see her, my chest aches. She’s sleeping, her lips parted over her soft, even breathing. There’s a bruise over her cheek that I fucking hate, a cut healing on her lip, but otherwise, she looks peaceful.
“She punched the fuck out of Talia before the cops arrived. When they were loading you in the back of the ambulance.”
I look back at him in disbelief, then look at my wife.
Nothing would have surprised me at this point. At least . . . nothing but my gentle, sweet, way too fucking kind wife.
He nods, amusement in his eyes.
“Surprised me, too.”
“And Sebastion? Talia?”
“Sebastian died,” he murmurs darkly. “They found him stuck in the house, nearly burnt to a crisp.”
“And Talia?”
“She was arrested,” a soft voice says from behind me, and my spine fills with cement.
Both Levi and I look to Mila, who’s now sitting upright in the chair, her eyes tired and her expression guarded.
Fuck, I never thought I’d see her again. The urge to hold her consumes me, but Levi opens his mouth, cutting me off from asking for her.
“Turns out, you were right. She and Sebastian met when they were both at the asylum, and she was just heartbroken enough after her little stunt with you that she let herself get drawn into his shit.”
“Guess her father couldn’t save her from this one.”
The room falls silent, and Levi looks between Mila and me, giving her a slight nod. “I’ll give you two some alone time.”
“Levi—” I start, but he stops me.
“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, glancing at Mila in the corner of the room.
He turns to walk towards the door, stopping to place a hand on Mila’s shoulder. “Fuck him up, scrap.”
The moment the door closes behind him, the room falls silent. The air hums with all the unspoken shit neither of us is saying. The pain, the anger. The love.
“Mila.” I’m surprised by the rasp in my own voice.
Fuck, there’s no way she’s really in front of me right now.
Her gaze burns into mine, and I k now what she’s thinking. Everything Talia and Sebastian did. We were just pawns to their manias. Their real obsession was themselves.
She’s quiet, studying my face. I can only imagine the shit she sees there.
“You took out your IV,” she says quietly after a long moment, staring at the thin trail of blood slipping down my arm. “The painkillers won’t work without it.”
“I don’t need it.” Pain is inevitable. Hiding from it will only make it hurt worse in the end.
“Do you need . . .”
“Mila,” I sigh, cutting her off. I can feel myself getting tired again, but I refuse to fall asleep without her in my arms, where I know she’s safe. “I just need you .”
She swallows, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and staring down at her hands in her lap.
I think she’s going to deny me, but after a long pause, she nods, almost to herself, before climbing out of the chair and crossing the distance to the bed. She stops in front of me, and I sit up, gritting my teeth and ignoring the pain in my shoulder.
“Mila, talk to me, little devil,” I whisper, chest on fire. Maybe I went too far, and she’s come to realize what I’ve known all along. That she’s too fucking good for me, and she’d be better off without me. She’s still too far away from me for me to wrap my arms around her like I want, so I settle for taking her hand instead. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head.”
“I watched you almost die again,” she whispers, her eyes finally meeting mine and brimming with tears. The sound of her voice breaking makes my chest tighten. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you. I never wanted to hurt you, but I had to make you let me go . . . for Bella.”
“Baby, I know.”
She shakes her head, wiping a tear that slips down her cheek. I take her other hand, pulling her closer despite the pain that emanates from my shoulder.
“And I’m sorry you had to kill your brother. I’m sorry it happened in that house, and—”
“Mila.” I search back and forth between her eyes, my heart in my throat. “They say love makes you a better man,” I murmur, brushing the curl back from her forehead. “Loving you just made me fucking ruthless.”
“I . . .” she breathes, and I pull her between my legs, wrapping my arms around her waist and leaning my head against her shoulder.
Fuck, she’s really fucking here.
“I love you,” she whispers, pressing her cheek to the top of my head. “Every piece of you. Even the broken parts.”
“Fuck, Mila,” I rasp, pulling her to my lap. “Come here.”
She tries to be careful, slipping into my lap, but I drag her closer, cradling her to me. I crush her body to mine despite the burn in my bruised ribs and my shoulder, and she wraps herself around me.
“Please stay.”
I don’t know what makes me say it, but I feel like I need to. The desperation may be from what just happened, or it may be from a lifetime of watching people disappear, but I don’t care. All that matters now is that she’s here.
“I love you,” she repeats, burying her face in the side of my neck and pressing her lips there. A groan of satisfaction rumbles up my throat. “You’re my husband. I love you. Wherever you go, I go.”
That’s all I needed to hear.
“Fuck, I love you.” I press my lips to hers before pulling back and leaning my forehead against hers. “You are my heaven and hell, little devil. My end and beginning. My perfection, and I will spend an eternity creating a paradise for you if you say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she whispers, eyes closed and tears on her cheeks drying. “Always.”
“Always,” I repeat.
I’m not sure how long I hold her, but when she yawns, I realize I’m fucking exhausted too. Whatever bullshit they have me hopped up on is threatening to knock my ass out.
“Nope,” I murmur when she attempts to climb from the hospital bed. “You’re staying here with me.”
“Are you forgetting you were shot?” she cocks a brow at me, all fire, and I fucking love it.
“Got a matching bullet in the other shoulder.” She groans, and I chuckle under my breath, pulling her down to the pillows. As if her body is agreeing with me, she yawns.
“What if I hurt you?” she asks when I pull her into my side. She nestles her head on my shoulder, and I suck in a breath of relief.
Home. This is home.
“You won’t.” I open my eyes to find her watching me.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she whispers, and I don’t need an explanation to know what she’s saying.
“Never.” I press my lips to hers, drinking her in, and despite the bullet in my chest, the meds still wreaking havoc on my consciousness, and everything else we’ve been through in the last couple days, my cock twitches in my sweats.
She breaks the kiss when I slip my tongue into her mouth, laying her head back down.
“By the way, Doctor Roberts said no sex for at least eight weeks.”
Doctor Roberts can suck a dick if he wants to keep telling her shit like that.
“Doctor Roberts is dramatic.” I press my lips to her forehead. “Give me twenty-four hours, and I’ll have you underneath me.”
She raises a brow. “We’ll see about that.”
“Yeah, we will . . . wife. ”