Chapter 35 The Wildfire
THE WILDFIRE
QUINTON
Wake up, Damon. Please… Wake up.
I hover by his bedside, staring down at his bruised face, the endless stitches, the gauze on his right ear.
Christ. I’m so sorry, D. I’m so fucking sorry.
I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve fought harder.
I should’ve dragged you back to us no matter how much you resisted.
I knew you wouldn’t hurt her. I knew you wouldn’t betray her trust, her love. I knew it.
Deep down, I fucking knew.
I sink down in the stool beside him and reach for his bandaged hand. “I need you to wake up, mate,” I whisper, gently stroking his knuckles. My voice cracks. “You’re strong, Damon. You’ve always been strong. But we need you to wake up. We need you to open your eyes. Please.”
I clench my jaw, commanding the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes to back the fuck down. I can’t. Not here. Not in front of him. Not in front of Emery. She’ll be back any moment. She can’t see me like this. We can’t both break down.
“You did a brave thing, D. A stupid, rash, but fucking brave thing. But now it’s time to come home. So please, Damon, if you can hear, please wake up. Wake up and tell them. Tell them you want to live. Tell them to do everything in their fucking power to make sure you live. You…”
My lungs squeeze my heart, painful and raw.
“You deserve to live, Damon. You need to believe that. You need to believe you’re worthy of a life.
That you’re worthy of love and a future.
Please, Damon. You’re a good person. You’re a good fucking man, but you need to believe that.
You need to wake up. You need to live for us.
Javier…” The tendons in my neck tighten.
“Javier and Josephine should be here tomorrow. Javier’s on a business trip, and Josie was in New Mexico visiting her kids.
But they’re coming, Damon. They’re coming, but I-I don’t know what they’ll do.
They… They wouldn’t talk to me. They… They love you, Damon.
We all fucking love you. But this isn’t your will.
This can’t be. Open your eyes, mate. Open your eyes and then maybe you’ll see just how much you have to live for. Please…”
Damon’s heart monitor keeps a rhythmic beep, no changes, no nothing.
“Fight, Damon. Come on… Move your finger for me. If you can hear me, D. Please, move your finger.”
I stare down at his hand, willing my best fucking friend to hear my pleas, but he’s stubborn.
So goddamn stubborn. His brain activity is normal.
No head trauma. He’s in there. He’s somewhere in there.
Hiding. Afraid. But he can come out. He needs to know that he can come out.
It’s safe here. I promise it’s safe, Damon.
We forgive you. We all forgive you. There’s no need to hide.
We’ll keep you safe, Damon. We’ll be here. Just wake up.
I look up at the sound of the door opening. Sage wheels Emery into Damon’s private room.
Emery swallows, eyes weary and red as she glances at Damon’s still body. “No changes?”
“Not yet.”
Hope. We need to have hope. It needs to be our fuel. Our fire. We need to continue adding logs and kindling, one after another. It can’t go out. No matter how small the flame, we need to keep it going. The smallest of embers can start a wildfire. And that’s what we need. A wildfire of hope.
“I’m going to grab a coffee,” Sage says. “Do either of you want anything?”
Emery shakes her head. “I’m good, thank you.”
I sigh, meeting Emery’s lifeless gaze. “You need to eat, darling. Maybe a sandwich?”
“I’ll get a few things,” Sage whispers. She looks down at her dog, Bones. “Do you want him to stay with you?” The golden retriever peers into my soul, and my gut twists. “I’ll leave him.” She bends down, dropping his leash. “Go to Quin, Bonesy, go on.”
The dog prances toward me, and sits by my side, his chin resting on my lap. I place a gentle hand on his head and close my eyes. “Thank you, Sage.”
Sage nods and disappears down the hallway.
Emery wheels herself closer to me and parks beside Bones. “I can’t believe they didn’t sign the forms.”
“They’re coming, Emery. They’ll be here soon.”
She scoffs, unable to look at Damon as guilt captures her features. “They could’ve done it electronically. They’re not going to sign it, Quin. They’re going to let him die.”
Bones whimpers as if he can understand the gravity of the situation. I lace my fingers through his scruff, using the softness of his fur to stabilize my breathing.
“We don’t know that. They said they’d talk to us in person, so we’ll just wait, okay? We just need to wait.”
Emery’s jaw clenches. “We’re waiting for him to code, Quin. That’s what we’re waiting for. Last night…” Her voice falls to a low, hoarse whisper. “I came here last night and…and I waited, Quin. I stared at that fucking monitor for hours, just waiting for the inevitable.”
“Stop,” I say through clenched teeth. “Don’t do that, Emery. Don’t you fucking dare do that, okay? We’re all that he has. We can’t give up. If we give up, he has no reason to fight.”
“I’m sorry.” Emery drops her head and reaches out, putting her hand on top of mine and Damon’s. Her chest heaves as she sobs. “I’m sorry, Quin. I just—I can’t lose him.” She sniffles, tone stern as she glares up at Damon. “Do you hear that, you foolish man? I can’t lose you!”
A long drawn out oh sounds from the doorway, and in unison, Emery and I whip our heads toward the familiar voice.
Emery’s shoulder immediately tightens as her gaze lands on her parents.
I keep my expression neutral as her mother studies our tangled fingers—mine, Damon’s, Emery’s. She lifts a brow but surprisingly doesn’t comment.
“When were you planning on telling us that you’re pregnant?” her mother asks.
Emery’s father’s face pales as they step inside and close the door. Her dad gasps, unable to rip his gaze away from Damon’s bandaged body. “Jesus… I saw the news. He…”
Emery swallows, slowly maneuvering her wheelchair around. “What are you guys doing here?”
Susan crosses her arms, offended. She’s easy to read.
Unlike her daughter. “What are we doing here? What are you doing here? The hospital called us, Emery! You can imagine our surprise when they informed us that our child, our daughter, was in the emergency room. Oh, and that she’s five months pregnant.
” She whips her livid gaze at me. “How long did you think you could hide this from us?”
Emery drops her head. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
Her mother flaps her arms. “We’re your parents, Emery!
It is our job to worry about you! I know you think your father and I are overbearing but once you have this child, once you hold that little baby in your arms, you’ll realize that everything we do, everything we’ve done or said, has been for you! ”
Emery sobs. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I was scared, and I didn’t want to tell you because you’d ask me, Mom. You’d ask a question that I don’t want to answer. That I can’t answer.”
Richard clears his throat. “Who’s the father, Emery? Who’s the father of your child?”
This is her battle. This is her truth. I can’t fight it for her. I can’t lead her to a victory. But I can supply her with weapons, with shields, with protection and loyalty.
And so I reach out and cup her trembling hand, caressing the underside of her wrist, her soft, delicate skin.
Emery casts me a weak side-eye, and I give her a short, slow solemn nod.
I’m here. You’re not alone. You won’t ever be alone.
With a deep breath, she looks back at her parents.
She straightens out her posture, like a wilted flower revitalized from the warmth of the beaming sun.
It’s glorious to witness. Her resilience, her willingness to fight against fear, against possible prejudice.
She’s a warrior. And this battle, this war, it’ll be her crowning moment.
“This baby has two fathers,” Emery says, steady and unwavering. “Damon and Quin, they’re both the fathers.”
Her father frowns. “I don’t think that’s biologically poss—”
“Richard!” Susan swats her husband’s shoulder. “I don’t think she means literally! Jesus Christ.” She closes her eyes, regaining composure as Emery’s father puts the pieces together. “Emery, honey, are you telling us that you’re…involved with both of these men?”
Richard balks, and I almost leap out of my seat to help him as he slightly staggers. His wife yanks on his jacket, pulling him back beside her.
My grip on Emery’s hand tightens, and she gives me three short squeezes as if communicating through Morse code.
I got this. I’m fine. I got this.
And she does. Like Damon, she’s strong.
“We’re in a relationship,” she says, chin held high. “The three of us.”
“I see…” Her mother’s gaze bounces between Damon and me. “The three of you…together. A relationship. Three.”
Richard blinks. “I need a drink.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a shot of vodka,” Susan mutters quietly.
She sighs. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing because if the press catches wind of this, they’ll tear your lives apart.
” She snaps her head at me. “All your lives.” She sucks in a sharp breath and pulls out her phone.
“So, this is what we’re going to do.” She glances at her daughter.
“You’re going to marry one of these men, Emery.
I don’t care which one, but you’re getting married.
The other man, he’ll go on the birth certificate as the father.
Yes, this will create a bit of scandal, but it’ll fade.
But then, you’ll be co-parents, the three of you.
No one will question why you’re all together, or living together, for that matter. ” She blinks. “Sound good?”
Emery’s brows knit together. “I’m sorry, what?”
I rein in a smile. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“When Damon wakes up,” Susan glances at Damon and places a hand over her heart, “and he will wake up, we’ll explain the plan. He’ll agree and we will plan a small ceremony. If you’re too busy, I can handle all the arrangements.”
Emery’s mouth gapes open. “Mom…”
“I’m going to make some calls. It might be difficult to book a venue on such short notice, but I’ll try.
” Susan starts out of the room. Emery’s father simply stares at us, bewildered.
“Richard!” Susan glares at him. “Let’s go!
You’re on flower duty.” With a strained expression, she attempts to smile at us.
“I’m glad you’re okay, honey. And your father and I are praying for Damon’s speedy recovery. ”
And with that, they exit the room.
“What just happened?” Emery mutters, staring at the doors.
“I believe your mother just proposed to us on your behalf.” In one fluid motion, I spin Emery’s wheelchair around.
I tilt my head, tenderly cupping her cheek.
“Breathe, darling.” Emery takes a deep, leveling breath.
“Good girl. Now…” My thumb caresses her hairline as my eyes burrow into hers, hopeful and mesmerized.
“While your mother’s idea has some merit, this is our life, Emery, and if you wish to say no, if you wish to go a different route, then I’ll support you.
” I swallow. “We will both support you.”
Emery’s lip trembles. “I can’t think of that now, Quin. I can’t—”
“He’s going to wake up, darling.” I press my forehead against hers, my breath fanning against her lips. “He’s going to come home.”
Her tears flow onto my cheeks, and I taste her despair, her anguish. But her tears are hot, almost scorching. And inside each drop, I can feel the sparks of a wildfire. It’s burning deep within her soul, cracking the surface, giving her hope.