Chapter 41
forty-one
“Let me see her.” My hands flex anxiously at my sides as I grind my teeth.
Beyond frustrated, I stare into the stormy eyes of Cait’s father.
I’ve been waiting for hours, and now I’m crazed, needing to hold her again and irritable because I haven’t slept in over a day.
Linden left an hour ago, and he’s been the one mediating between us.
I promised him I would sleep in the waiting room, but how can I when she’s right here, and I need to see for myself that she’s okay?
“Family only.” Her mother raises a palm with quiet authority.
“I am her family!” I shout, causing everyone in the nurses’ station to turn their attention to me.
I know what I must look like. Wide-eyed and jittery, I’m wearing Steph’s dried blood on my skin and shirt, my eyes are puffy and bloodshot, and my hair’s a wild mess. Compared to her parents, who are composed and dressed in business attire, I’m the crazy one.
Her mom waves for security. With the senator’s presence, the hospital has been swarming with them, but no way are they keeping me from Cait. Though he appears wary, her father stands unmoving at her door. He crosses his arms, unwilling to let me pass.
“Get out of my way.” I grab his shoulders and push him aside, and he stumbles.
For a fraction of a second, I glimpse Cait. She’s unconscious, laid out on the bed, a white sheet pulled up to her waist and tubes connected to her face and arms. I recoil at the shock of seeing her this way, so helpless and broken. I press forward again, more eager than ever to be by her side.
I’m a few feet inside her room when someone grabs my arm, flinging me backward. Because I’m exhausted and tired of this bullshit, I turn, pull back my arm, and swing. I don’t care who the hell I hit.
My fist connects with her dad’s face. His bones crack beneath my anger, and he staggers back, arms flailing. Her mom screams in the background. It’s not just his face shattering; it’s me who’s breaking under the pressure.
Several men in suits tackle me to the floor.
With my face and chest pressed into the cold linoleum, I yell Cait’s name.
Wild, I fight them, my arms swinging and legs kicking.
My fingers grasp the air in her direction.
I can see the wheels on the bottom of her bed.
If I scream loudly enough, maybe she’ll know I’m here.
The security team wrangles me upright. My wrists are zip-tied behind my back before I’m hauled down the hall, my toes dragging behind me.
They hustle me into an open elevator and slam my chest against its stainless steel wall, pressing my cheek into the cold metal paneling.
Strong hands brace my shoulders while someone’s elbow digs into my back.
The elevator dings and the doors slide shut. But before they do, I take in her mother’s face. She’s standing on the far side of the hall. Despite her husband’s bloody broken nose, she’s smiling.
It doesn’t make sense—until it does.
In a moment of clarity, I realize she baited me when I was at my wits’ end. She wanted me to react. She wanted to get me kicked out and arrested. She wanted to get rid of me, because that’s what she’s wanted for years.
Linden picks me up at the police station on Monday.
“Motherfuckers,” he says.
He knows. He understands. Her parents will forever hate me because of what I represent. They believe that by loving her, I enabled her to prosper here. I aided her so she wouldn’t have to run back to them. They wanted her to fail and return home.
It shows how little they know or understand Cait.
She’s strong enough to survive on her own.
She never gives up. And she sure as shit didn’t need me to get what she wanted.
She gets what she wants on her own. When we met, I thought I would save her, but she’s no damsel in distress.
She’s a fighter, a warrior. That’s why I love her.
As soon as we pull away in Linden’s Range Rover, I say, “Take me back to her.”
“I wish I could.” He grips the steering wheel tighter, not meeting my eyes.
“Stop and let me out.” I reach for the handle but the locks click. I fire a death stare at Linden. I may have slept a little in my cell from sheer exhaustion, but I’m not beyond fighting my own brother to return to Cait.
He bypasses the city streets, heading straight for Lake Shore Drive. Today is gray and cloudy. Waves from Lake Michigan crash over the bike path that Cait and I run on. I watch them stream past my window as Linden flies down the highway. I anchor my elbow on the door and bite my cuticles.
“The Londons filed an emergency restraining order against you. That’s why they held you in jail for so long.”
“What!” I slap the console. In ten seconds, I’m exploding.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
“Things work faster when you have power,” he says.
I squeeze my fists until my fingers turn white. Seven. Six. Five.
“If I take you back, you’ll end up in jail again. And that will give them power to escalate things.”
Four. Three. Two.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says.
My body stiffens, and I clench the edge of my seat. My mind’s imagining the worst scenario. I can’t help it. It’s automatic. I hold my breath as my eyes burn like they’re filling with bleach as I wait. I can’t bring myself to ask.
“I have sources at the hospital.” He shifts gears, blows through a red light, and turns into his neighborhood. “Besides her gunshot wounds, she’s in a coma from a traumatic head injury. They think she fell and hit her head in the chaos.”
But she’s still alive, still breathing. She’ll be okay. “When will she wake?”
“They don’t know. Sooner is better. Longer is . . .”
“No good.” I finish his sentence, but my thoughts have turned to the worst again.
We pull into his driveway and park. Viv stands outside their open front door, burrowed into a large gray sweater. Her auburn hair blows in the breeze.
I reach to open the door with my bruised hand, but Linden has yet to unlock them. When I glance over, I can see he’s not done with me. A muscle jumps in my neck.
“You have to promise you’ll stay away from the hospital until we can meet with the attorney.”
“You know I can’t do that.” My voice is still hoarse.
“She’s getting the best care at a first-rate hospital with the best physicians in the world.
I know you want to be by her side, we all do, but the best way to deal with this is to play it cool.
It’s a shitty thing for me to ask. I understand.
In fact, I’d understand if you told me to fuck off and bolted when I open that door.
But you’re tired, you need a shower, and you need sleep so you can have a clear head.
You’ll be better for her tomorrow. You can’t face her like this. ” He gestures to me.
I know what I look like, or at least I did yesterday. Now it’s a day later, and I’m still a wreck inside and out.
I glance at Linden, trying to decide. He’s always watched out for me. He tells me the truth, even when it hurts, and it’s never hurt like this before.
Resigned, I nod. Either way, it’s the only way I’m getting out of this car.
The locks release. I shove open my door and slide out.
As I approach Viv, a breeze lifts her red hair, whipping it around her face, and strands stick to her maroon lips.
She opens her arms and folds me into the warmth of her sweater.
I should find comfort in her hug. She’s been a constant rock of support in my life, more than my own mother, but still, I’m numb.
“We’ll figure this out. Come inside,” she says, guiding me into their home.
In the guest bedroom, I shower and dress in fresh clothes I borrowed from Linden. My guilt is overwhelming when I hold out my bloodstained pants and shirt, ready to discard them. It’s the last of Steph. I’ve been too distracted to consider her family, her other friends, and Trevor.
When is the funeral? Should I call them and tell them I was there? What will I even say . . . I couldn’t save your daughter? My face crumples, and I shake my head.
“I’ve already talked to her family. The funeral’s later this week,” Linden says.
“Did you tell them . . . I’m sorry? I tried . . .” Linden’s right. I can’t think straight.
“They know.”
I nod and release the clothes. They drop into the trash bag, and Linden ties it shut. “Viv’s making food. Can you eat?”
“Sleep.” My voice is resigned.
He agrees and closes the door behind him, leaving me in the quiet bedroom.
I sit on the edge of the mattress. My misery and headache increase the longer I fight to maintain consciousness.
I’m scared if I sleep, if I miss one second, something else I can’t control will happen to Cait.
If I’m sleeping, I won’t be able to protect her.
My eyes are so heavy. They snap open before I realize I’ve closed them. I find myself leaning and drifting to one side.
Finally, I give in and lie down on top of the comforter, holding an image of Cait in my foggy mind. With her beautiful face framed behind my eyelids, I walk toward her and allow the darkness to take me.
The problem is, my world is worse when I wake.