This Woman Forever

Chapter 49

My eyelids twitch, the muscles coming to life, and light blinds me, forcing me to slam them shut again. Fuck, did I just open my eyes? I breathe in, hope crashing into me. I squeeze my lids shut and release them, cautiously peeling one open. My eyes hurt. My face muscles hurt. Suddenly everything fucking hurts. I look around the room, still as can be, not only because I’m incapacitated, but because if my whole head is in agony by just opening my eyes, I can’t begin to imagine the level of pain waiting for me if I actually move.

I drop my eyes, and I’m greeted by a mass of messy brown hair. I exhale lightly, wary, and suddenly all I can feel is my heart beating. Ava. I’m mesmerized as I stare down at her sleeping, her head resting on the bed, her body hunched over.

“How old are you?” she mumbles. I’m unable to stop my small smile. I sustain the pain, swallowing too, trying to push some words past my lips.

“Thirty-eight,” I whisper groggily, amazed when I hear my own voice. “I’m thirty... eight, baby.”

I hear her hum and mumble, her head moving as she rubs her face into the sheets.

“My beautiful... girl is... dreaming.”

And that’s me done for the day, my eyes closing again, the effort to keep them open way too much. Christ, will I ever be able to move again? I’m fucking drained. Heavy. Hurting.

I feel the bed move. She’s woken up? God damn it, I missed her. I focus, concentrating on moving my finger again, anything to tell her I’m here. Anything to stop her worrying. Fuck.

An unbearable, screechy sound attacks my ears. God, make it stop.

“Jesse?”

I still, not that I’m actually moving, and listen. Did she say my name? Ava?

There’s suddenly a pressure on my shoulders, and my upper body is moving. Fuck, that’s agony, the pain starting at my neck and radiating down to my toes.

“Jesse?” Ava cries.

Beep!

“Jesse?”

Beep!

My whole body starts shaking involuntarily, and I can’t fucking stop it. What the hell is she doing, trying to kill me? Stop, Ava. The pain is excruciating. As is the noise.

“Too... loud.”

“Jesse?” she gasps.

“What?” My arm suddenly has life, moving up, my body going into protection mode, trying to block the pain and noise. I hold my head, feeling like it could fall off.

“Open your eyes,” she shouts. Fuck, why all the shouting? She’s panicking. I don’t need panic, I need calm.

“No,” I grunt. “It fucking... hurts.”

“Oh God.” Her words are a desperate gasp. “Try.” A plea.

If it will quieten her down, I’ll do anything. My face bunches, my eyes squeezed so tightly shut, that’s causing pain too. Relax. I let the tiniest bit of light past my lids, trying to get used to the invasion again. “Fucking hell,” I mumble, not only because I’m in fucking agony here. The sight of her through my grainy vision shocks me. Her face is blotchy, her hair matted, her eyes sunken. Jesus Christ, she’s not been looking after herself. Why has no one force-fed her? She’s wasting away. God damn it, I want to enforce some rules, but I can’t fucking move.

On a wracked sob, Ava comes at me, and I don’t have the time or capacity to stop her. My eyes are suddenly wide open as she smothers my face with her lips. Pain. Shit, aren’t they giving me anything to help with that?

“Sorry,” she screeches, breaking away.

“Fucking hell, Ava.” I don’t recognize my voice. I try swallowing, the scratch painful too. Everything’s painful. I succumb to it and let my heavy lids fall again.

“Open your eyes.”

Fuck me.

I drag them open. “Then stop inflicting fucking . . . pain on me, woman.”

Her lip wobbles, her red nose sniveling. “I thought I’d lost you.” She hides her face in her hands, her body quaking with the force of her sobs, and there’s nothing I can do to comfort her.

“Baby,” I breathe, damning my broken body to hell and back. “Please don’t cry... when there’s... fuck all I can do about... it.” I try to turn my torso a little so I can reach for her. “Fucking hell,” I gasp, holding my breath, tensing. “Fuck.” No, not happening.

“Stop moving,” she says, stern.

Fine by me. God, what day is it? How long have I been here? I fight past the fog, trying to recall... anything. I feel like I’ve been pulsing in and out of an alternate universe, reliving each day, forgetting it, starting again. Right now, I can’t remember a damn thing.

I lift my arm and look down at the line into it. Glance around the room. That’s right. I’m in hospital. Half dead because?—

The onslaught of memories hit me again, the scene from the kitchen ready for another replay. “She hurt you.” I instinctively try to sit up, and I pay for it, the pain diabolically intense, but my panic is fiercer. Fuck. “The babies.”

“We’re okay.” Ava is soon standing over me, working against me. “Jesse, we’re all okay.” She doesn’t let me win, forcing me to the bed. “Lie down.”

“You’re okay?” I ask, reaching for her tired face. She doesn’t look okay. She looks wrecked. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“And the babies?”

“I’ve had two scans,” she says. Oh, that’s good. Very good. I let my body sink into the bed again, needing to close my eyes. “I should call the nurse.”

“No, please,” I whisper, dragging my heavy hand to her neck. “Let me wake up before... they start poking... me about.” I inject some power into my arm and pull her closer.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She doesn’t? Too late for that. I put up some resistance when she tries to pull away, gritting my teeth. I don’t win because I’m stronger. I win because she gives in. “Jesse.”

“Contact. Do what you’re told.”

She does, which is a welcome result, because there wouldn’t be much I could do about it if she didn’t. “Are you in much pain?”

This isn’t pain. I don’t know what this is but it’s fucking unbearable. “Agony.”

“I need to get the nurse,” she whispers, her volume now at a tolerable level.

“Soon.” I sigh. “I’m comfy.”

“No, you’re not.”

True. But I suppose I ought to get used to uncomfortable. I need some painkillers. Where’s the fucking nurses around here? I frown at myself.

“I’m glad you’re still here.” I turn my head and pucker my lips, kissing her. “I’d have given up if I didn’t constantly hear your defiant voice.”

“You could hear me?”

“Yes, it was strange and fucking annoying when”—fuck, get me some painkillers—“I couldn’t tell you off. Will you ever do what you’re told?”

“No.”

“Thought not.” Why change the habit of a lifetime? But my habit? Keeping secrets I shouldn’t keep? I have to change that habit. I have to get comfortable talking about my past. “I have some explaining to do.”

“No, you don’t.” She’s suddenly scrambling away, and she catches me in my side as she does. Doesn’t stop me from holding on to her, though. Idiot.

“Fuck.” Lord, help me. “Fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I grunt, holding her close, and she eventually relents, thank God. “Just stay put and listen. You’re not going anywhere until... I’ve told you about”—Deep breath—“Rosie.” I don’t think I’ve said her name out loud since she died, and hearing it in my voice, albeit gravelly and dry, brings on a whole new facet of pain.

You can do it, Daddy.

Shit. I can do it.

Can I?

“Lauren was the daughter of my mum and dad’s good friends,” I begin, starting to tell the story I should have told long ago, fighting against the discomfort to speak clearly. “I’m sure you can imagine the type,” I battle on. “Well-bred, rich, and highly respected in the snotty community that we... were forced to tolerate.” God, how I hated them. “We fooled around once and she ended up pregnant.” Planned by her, not me. “We were seventeen, young and stupid.” Me more so. How did I not see what she was doing that night she appeared in my bedroom with a bottle of vodka—a means to escape my grief if only for a short while? “Can you imagine the scandal? I’d really done it this time.” I’m not sure what’s more painful—talking or moving. “Fuck,” I hiss, testing myself. Definitely moving.

Ava’s quiet. Listening. So I shouldn’t stop. Get it all out.

Deep breaths.

“Emergency meetings were called between Lauren’s family and my own.” I remember sitting there, numb and mute, listening to my future being meticulously planned. Lauren was smiling. Happy. “Her father demanded I... marry her before word got out and ruined both of our families. Jake... ” I fade off briefly to take a breath. “Jake had not long died. I went along with it, hoping my compliance might build some bridges with my parents.” I feel Ava’s hand squeeze mine, and I swallow a few times, trying to moisten my dry mouth so I can continue. “The joint effort of both families did an amazing job of convincing the community that we were hopelessly in love.”

“She was,” Ava says, quite matter of fact.

“And I wasn’t.” If anything, I was terrified. I take a few more breaths, fighting through the pain to continue. I’m not stopping until this is done. “I was married off and moved into her parents’ country estate within a month. Everyone was happy, except... me. Carmichael gave me an escape, and I... I finally... plucked up the courage to call a halt on the whole diabolical farce.” Breathe. “But when Rosie arrived, I was...”—A hard swallow—“determined to be a dad. That little girl was the only person on the planet who loved me for me, no expectations or pressure, she just accepted me in her innocence. It didn’t matter that she was a baby.” I smile on the inside. “She was a real daddy’s girl. I could do no wrong, and I knew I never would in her eyes. That was enough to make me evaluate the lifestyle I’d slipped into while Lauren was pregnant.” I can’t get her fucking face out of my head, and it’s pissing me off. “Carmichael got the best solicitor involved to try and gain me full custody because he knew that she was my redeemer, but Lauren’s family dug up every dirty little secret, from Jake, to The Manor, to my brief lifestyle, from when I left Lauren until Rosie was born. I didn’t have a hope.”

“And your parents had moved to Spain by now?”

I laugh. I don’t know why. Because it fucking hurts. “Yeah, they escaped the shame I’d brought on the family.” What kind of delusional idiot am I? Still telling myself things, but to what end?

“They abandoned you,” Ava says quietly, with no judgment.

“They wanted me to go with them. Mum begged, but I couldn’t leave Rosie full-time with that family. She’d be frowned upon as an illegitimate child, even though she had me. Not an option.”

“So then what?”

Here we go. “Rosie was three and I made the worst mistake of my life.” Ava knows the next bit of the puzzle, but she would never have pieced it together. Why would she? She only had minimal facts. “I slept with Sarah.”

“Sarah?”

“Carmichael and Sarah were together.”

Up she comes, so fast I don’t have a chance to stop her. “They were?” Her face. Expected, I guess. “Sarah and Carmichael?” she questions. “But I thought he was a playboy.”

“He was.” A terrible, hedonistic flirt. “With a girlfriend.” Tell her everything. “And a child.”

“What?” Eyes wide, she stares at me, and I see she’s trying so hard to hold on to her shock and control her rampant curiosity. “Go on.”

Fuck, this story is long. “Carmichael walked in on me and Sarah,” I say, shaking away the look of sheer disappointment on his face. “He hit the roof, got the girls, and left.”

“The girls?”

“Rosie and Rebecca.”

“Your Rosie and their Rebecca,” she whispers. “The car accident?”

I nod, exhausted, needing to close my eyes for a few moments. Hide. “I didn’t just kill my uncle and my daughter,” I whisper. “I killed Sarah’s girl too.” Strangely, Sarah’s never thrown that accusation at me. Never.

“No,” Ava whispers. “That can’t be your fault.”

“I think you’ll find that my poor decisions have been the cause for everything, Ava. I’ve fucked up on so many levels so many times, and I’ve paid for it, but I can’t pay anymore, not now I have you. What if I make a bad decision again? What if I screw up again? What if I’m not done paying?” My body sinks into the mattress as all air leaves my lungs with my panicked words.

Ava bites into her lip, stunned, clearly trying to wrap her mind around the barrage of information. “You are more than done paying,” she says quietly, turning her eyes to my torso. “When did she hurt you before?”

“After Rosie died, she tried so hard to make me see that we needed each other. She had always been a little unpredictable.” That could be the most under-egged statement ever made. “But when I continually rebuffed her advances, she really started behaving erratically. We’re talking full-on bunny-boiler style.”

“Did she get pregnant on purpose?”

“Probably.” What am I saying? Definitely. But I can’t regret Rosie.

“And she stabbed you?”

“Yes.”

“Did she go to prison?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Why?”

“Her family got her help and kept her away from me in exchange for my silence.” Poor Alan. He only ever wanted to fix his daughter while at the same time ignoring the obvious issues she had.

“But look at the mess she made of you,” Ava whispers. “How did you pass that off?”

“It’s pretty superficial. She did a better job this time.” Yeah, she got me good, and to think she was aiming for Ava? My blood runs cold, and Ava flinches and pales a little.

“You didn’t even go to hospital, did you?” she says, and I shake my head. “Who stitched you up?”

“Her dad. He was a doctor.”

“Oh my God.” She lowers to a chair, stunned. “And where were your parents whilst all of this was going on?”

“They’d already returned to Spain.” And I ignored any attempt of contact. Drunk. Ashamed.

“Jesse.” She thinks really hard, as if she’s not sure she should say what she wants to. “Your mum in Spain. Second chance?”

I smile sadly. “You really do know everything now,” I whisper. “Are you leaving me?” She doesn’t answer, and I stare at the ceiling, waiting. Hoping. Could I blame her? No. Could I stop her? No.

“Look at me.”

Fuck, I don’t know if I can. I feel my eyes welling up, my throat closing. It’s going to really hurt if I let my emotions out. But everyone knows the more you try to suppress a good cry, the more body-wracking it’ll be when you let it claim you.

Facing her, I let go, struggling to see her past the blur.

“Unbreakable,” she says, the word shaky but resolute, and I exhale my gratitude, the pain suddenly bearable.

“Hold me.” She’s seen me at my absolute worst, and now my weakest. No man wants to show their vulnerability. I don’t plan on making a habit of it, but the reassurance radiating off her is fuel to my broken body.

She comes to me carefully, awkwardly trying to position herself around me. “Jesse, be careful.”

“It hurts more if I’m not touching you.” I tilt her face up to mine and study her, letting her touch me, feel me.

“I love you,” she whispers, pushing her mouth to my dry lips.

“I’m glad.” So glad.

“Don’t say that. I don’t want you to say that.”

Why does this anger her? “But I am.”

“That’s not what you usually say,” she protests, feeling my hair, then pulling it.

Oh, I see.I smile to myself. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” she replies quickly.

“I know.” I instigate the next kiss, riding the pain while trying to hide my discomfort. It’s probably the feeblest kiss I’ve ever given her.

“I’m getting the nurse now. You need some painkillers.”

“I need you. You’re my cure.”

“Then why are you still tensing and hissing in discomfort?” she asks, holding my face.

“Because it fucking hurts.” Get me those painkillers pronto.

She smiles, stealing one more kiss, and gets up off the bed carefully. And I feel... light. So fucking light. It’s not your time yet, Jesse. Because I have a job to do here.

I watch Ava as she faffs around my bed, fixing the sheets. “What are you smiling about?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“You’re going to love this, aren’t you?” I say, lifting my head so she can plump my pillow.

“I have the power,” she whispers playfully as I grimace.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh,” the nurse sings when she whirls in. “Oh my.” Going to the monitor beside my bed, she presses a few buttons. “Welcome back, Jesse.”

“Thanks,” I grumble, bracing myself for the onslaught of poking.

“Feeling groggy?”

“Shit.” Was she expecting cartwheels? “When can I go home?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She chuckles. “Eyes, please.” She shines a light in my eyes, making me squint. “Your wife has told me all about these eyes.” Oh? “They really are quite something.”

You bet your arse they are. “Is that all she told you about, nurse?”

“No.” She smiles wickedly. “She’s told me about that roguish grin too.” Roguish? “Bed bath?”

What? “No, I’ll shower,” I mutter, hearing Ava chuckling.

“No can do, young man,” the nurse says, raining on my parade. “Not until the doctor checks you over and we remove your catheter.”

I have a piss bag? Oh, please tell me I don’t have a piss bag. The nurse holds up a piss bag. “For fuck’s sake.” How long have I got to stay here?

“I’ll call the doctor.”

Yes, please do. Hopefully he’ll be a little more reasonable and will compromise. I find Ava, happy to see some color back in her cheeks. “Get me out of here, baby.”

“No way, Ward.” She offers me a straw. “Drink.”

“Is it bottled?”

“I doubt it. Stop being a water snob and drink.”

Don’t have much choice, do I? “Don’t let that nurse give me a bed bath.”

“Why not? It’s her job, Jesse, and she’s been doing it very well for the past two weeks.”

Wait, what? “Two weeks?” How the hell is that possible? “I’ve been out for two weeks?”

“Yes.” She flinches. “But it felt more like two hundred years.”

Has she eaten anything in those two weeks? Showered at all? Two fucking weeks? Ava sits on the edge of the bed and plays with my ring. “Don’t ever complain to me about having a long day again.”

“Okay.” Two weeks? My God, how many times have I relived the nightmare in those two weeks? “She hasn’t really been sponging me down, has she?”

“No, I have,” Ava declares, and that makes me feel so much better. She’s been looking after me. She hasn’t left my side. If I needed any kind of confirmation that she’s committed, I suppose I have it.

“So while I was naked and unconscious,” I say, restraining my smile. “You were...” How do I put it? “Fondling me?”

“No,” she says slowly. “I was washing you.”

“And you didn’t have a sneaky touch?”

“Of course.” She comes close, and my smile widens. “I needed to lift your limp dick to get to your saggy balls.”

I feel instantly sick. “I’m in hell. Fucking hell on earth. Get me a doctor. I’m going home.”

“You’re going nowhere,” she says over her delighted chuckle, kissing me, like that might pacify me. It won’t. I’ll discharge myself.

“I need to pee.”

I frown down my body as Ava slips into the attached bathroom, feeling a brief urge to pee too, and then... nothing. Because, the bag of piss. “God,” I grunt, letting my head sink into my recently plumped pillow. I shift a little, grumbling in pain. This bed is lumpy. I’ll be far more comfortable at home, in my own bed, with my favorite nursemaid.

How can I convince them?

The door opens, and a middle-aged man in chinos and a white shirt—sleeves rolled up—wanders in. “Jesse,” he says, going straight to the machinery and checking things over.

“Doctor?” I ask.

“Trauma surgeon. Mr. Emerson. I specialize in knife-related injuries. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been stabbed.”

He laughs, motioning to the sheets over my stomach. “May I?”

“Help yourself.”

He pulls them back and looks over the dressing covering half of my side. “You’ve been through the mill.” He picks up my notes and starts looking through. “We removed the knife during surgery. We hoped the damage was limited to a deep puncture, but it seems the blade was moved once it had penetrated.”

I look at the ceiling, blinking back a flashback. Her eyes. “She lost her grip when I shoved her away.”

“That undoubtedly saved your life. If she’d pulled the knife free, it would have been a very different story.”

I nod, closing my eyes. “Are you saying I’d be dead?” I squint into my darkness at the blurry silhouette of a very tall man in the distance.

“In a nutshell. Your lung collapsed while you were in theater, and you’d lost an exceptional amount of blood. The internal injuries were extensive. Your body went into preservation to heal, hence you’ve been out for a while.”

I realize it’s not a tall man, but a kid on someone’s shoulders. I frown, opening my eyes. “Two weeks,” I say.

He smiles. “How’s the pain?”

“Awful.”

Ava appears from the bathroom and puts herself out of the way, smiling to the surgeon when he nods his hello. “I’ll have Nurse get you some more morphine.” He goes to the wall and yanks some gloves out of a dispenser, pulling them on. “Let’s have a look,” he says, picking at the edge of the dressing, easing it off, humming.

I wince and look down at the raw wound. “Fucking hell,” I breathe.

“You’re very lucky.”

I flick my eyes to Ava, seeing her arms folded, listening. I give her a small smile. She doesn’t return it. Lucky. “And the bag?” I ask, nodding in the general vicinity of my bed, where it’s hanging on the side.

“The bag needs to stay for now.”

“I can make it to the bathroom, Doctor.”

“I think you’re a little optimistic.”

“But—”

“There’s really no buts about it, Jesse. The bag stays. Maybe tomorrow. We’ll see if you’re up for a little walkabout tomorrow.” He collects some things from a wall cabinet. “You’ve just come round.”

“What about this, then?” I ask, holding up my arm. He looks over his shoulder, smiling as he shakes his head.

Defeated, I sigh, letting him redress my stomach as Ava watches, her concentration fierce. “Everything looks fine,” he says, pulling off the gloves and dropping them in the bin. “I’ll have Nurse fix you up with that morphine. I’m on the ward tomorrow morning, so we’ll see if you’re up for a little walk then.”

“I will be.”

“We’ll see.” He looks at Ava. “I’m putting you in charge,” he says around an ironic smile. Ava laughs, and I snort.

“Don’t feed the beast, Doc,” I grumble, making him chuckle his way out of my room.

I watch Ava move to the high-backed chair and sit. “The more you cooperate, the sooner you’ll be released.”

There’s the problem. Cooperate. Whenever has she known me to be good at that? “You look tired. Are you eating?”

“Yes.”

“Ava. Go now and get something to eat.”

“My mum fed me a salad.” A fucking salad. “I’m not hungry.”

Give me strength. And then it occurs to me. “What have you told them?”

“Everything,” she says, simple and easy. “Except for your four-day absence.”

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling heavier on the bed. Everything. “Go and get something to eat.”

“I’m not hun?—”

“Don’t make me tell you again, lady,” I snap, done. She will not use my inability to walk to her advantage. “Piss bag or not, I’ll march you down to that fucking restaurant myself and shove some food down your throat.”

She recoils, injured, and I feel utterly shit about it. Fuck. They know everything. All of my horrid secrets and fuckups. “I’ll get you something too,” she says quietly.

“I’m not hungry,” I reply, hearing the door close behind her. I drop my eyes and stare at the wood, just as it opens again. Nurse has a bag of fluid in her hands. She chitchats happily, while I lie back, letting her change the bag and inject something into the canula on the back of my hand, sending freezing cold liquid up my arm.

“Twins,” she says, washing her hands at the sink. “How exciting. You better hurry up and recover.”

“I will as soon as they let me out of bed.”

She chuckles. “Slowly but surely. You’ll fall flat on your face if you stand up too soon.”

“Right,” I say, watching her leave. I shouldn’t have snapped at Ava. I sigh and close my eyes, feeling like I’m running the gauntlet of flashbacks and memories. In my body, out of my body, struggling to straighten everything out, figure out what’s real and what was dreamt. Her parents are here. I squint in my darkness, pulling something from the back of my mind. Elizabeth. I heard her. Yes, she was trying to get Ava to eat. She settled for a salad. It’s something, and I’m grateful. Did I hear the big man? I breathe in when it comes to me. John on the floor. He was hurt. They were remanded. Both of them. Both? My brain begins to ache, and then the floodgates open again, another mishmash of recollections hitting me. I hear my dad.

I still, willing that particular memory forward. Were they here?

And I deflate.

Why would they be?

A light knock on the door sounds, and I snap my eyes open. Did I imagine hearing Dad? Did it happen? I get frustrated with myself, not knowing what’s real, what’s not, what was a dream, a memory, a flashback. All I know right now is Ava is real, she’s pregnant, I’m really fucking broken, my in-laws are here, and they know everything.

The door opens, and a head appears around it.

Who it is sends me into an instant spin. “Sarah?” I gasp, trying to sit up, cursing and giving up, falling back to my back on a hiss. “You can’t be here.” I’m ambushed by every shitty thing she’s done to us, panic overtaking me. She tried to break us up. She tried to chase Ava away. She whipped me, told Ava’s ex I’m an alcoholic, fed him shit on me.

Ava will lose her mind. I’ve put her through enough since I came round, offloaded the past I tried to bury, and now Sarah’s here? No. “Please, you have to go.”

“Ava knows I’m here,” she says, slipping in and closing the door.

“What?” I can’t imagine that’s true. Why would I believe her? She’s lied persistently and callously since I met Ava. I reach for my aching head, feeling information overload.

“She’s outside.” She stands at the end of my bed, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. I catch sight of a bandage on her wrist. And another memory comes to me.

“You tried?—”

She shifts uncomfortably, rearranging her sleeves to cover the evidence. “How do you feel?”

“Terrible.”

She nods, not asking to take a seat, and I don’t offer her one either. I’m uncomfortable. Why is she here? “Jesse?—”

“I can’t forgive you, Sarah,” I say, making her step back. “I can feel sorry for you, but I can’t forgive you for trying to ruin the best thing that’s happened to me since Rosie.”

Her eyes drop, shame emanating from her feeble form. “I didn’t want you to be happy without me.”

It’s a horrible punch in the gut. Horrible. “Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” she whispers, finally saying it out loud. “I’ve been in love with you since we were seventeen, Jesse. I stayed with Carmichael so I could stay with you. Got pregnant to keep my place in his life. Your life. I whipped people and imagined it was you. Punishment for not loving me back.”

I flinch, looking away from her. And I see a vision of her thrashing a man’s back, the look on her face. Enjoying herself.

“I hate Ava,” she goes on, on a roll, her voice now breaking, the tears flowing. “And I hate you for loving her. I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to make you see me, then she walks into your office and within a second, you saw her.”

“You have to leave.”

“I know.” She sniffs, wiping her nose. “You won’t see me again.” She walks forward tentatively, coming close, taking advantage of my incapacitated state. I close my eyes as she slowly dips and pushes a kiss to my cheek, lingering. I hold my breath, feeling her lips quivering. Smell her. “Goodbye,” she whispers, finally breaking away. I open my eyes and watch as she walks to the door, and when she reaches it, she looks back. “I love you.”

I turn my face away from her, the pain doubling. As does the anger. The door closes, and I bite down on my teeth, clenching my fists. She couldn’t even apologize? She couldn’t be sorry? She didn’t even acknowledge the fucking state I’m in here. And yet, I don’t feel like I have the right to be mad. If that’s her way of letting me go, what the fuck do I care if she does or doesn’t care?

“You vindictive bitch!”

My eyes shoot toward the door. “Mum?” I whisper.

No.

But then...

Yes.

I’m ambushed by my mother’s sad face, her old hands pulling in her pale blue cardigan. Very quickly, I’m not thinking of the pain—physical or emotional. I throw the sheets back and heave my legs off the bed, cursing to high heaven. Okay, physical pain isn’t fucking off anytime soon. “Bastard,” I mutter, standing, the sheets slipping to my waist. I grab the tall metal stand beside my bed, not only for support, but because I can’t go anywhere without it. “Shit.” I take one unsteady step, holding the sheet around me. Then another. “Fuck!” My eyes bulge when something pulls on my insides, and I look back to see a tube trailing from the bed to my groin. “Fucking hell.” My cheeks balloon, sickness rising, blood draining from my head. I reverse my steps clumsily, pull the bag off the side of the bed, and re-hook it onto the frame with the other fluids, then stagger to the door, throwing it open.

I’m met with a chorus of gasps as I take in the scene.

“Jesse, for God’s sake,” Ava yells, coming at me.

“Mum?” I come over a little lightheaded—shock, no doubt.

“Oh Jesse, you stupid man.” I can see two of her. And Amalie. And Ava. Fuck, is that Sarah? “Get back in bed now.”

“Give me five minutes, Beatrice,” Ava says. She has two faces. Both full of scorn. I blink, my hazy, double vision screwing me over. How does Ava know my mother’s name?

Her palms meet my chest, easing me back a step, and the door closes. “What do you think you’re playing at?” she snaps, furious. “Get in bed.”

Does she fancy changing her tone? And her fucking volume? “Ca—” Whoa. Black dots start to creep into my vision, Ava’s two faces become four.

“Oh shit,” she yelps, as I try to close one eye, gain some focus, feeling my body go as light as my head. “Shit, shit, shit.” I’m suddenly tipping backward, freefalling, and my arse hits the lumpy mattress on a grunt, my back soon after, my legs hanging over the side. Fuck, that hurts. “You’re an idiot, Ward.” For once, I agree. I’ve got room spin. Feel sick. What the hell was I thinking? “Why can’t you do what you’re bloody told?” Ava works around me, and my legs are soon rising.

“I feel pissed.” Fuck, someone stop the room spin. I cover my face with my forearm, clenching my eyes closed.

“You got up too quickly.”

No shit. “What are they doing here, Ava? I don’t want to see them.” I look weak, pathetic, everything they thought I was. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

Her hand wraps around my arm and pulls it away, and I open one, cautious eye. I haven’t got the energy to deal with this. Or the drink on hand.

“You have me,” she says softly, her face and tone telling me I’m about to be appeased. Can I be? “And I’m all you need, I know that, but this is a chance to put everything in your life right.” Her eyes are imploring, the kind of gaze from my wife I could never disregard. And, really, would I ever want to? They’re here.

Is there a chance?

They came to be by my bedside. And because I was unconscious, I couldn’t push them away. And now, too, because I’m sober. “Just give them a few minutes,” she pleads, hopeful. “I’m here forever, no matter what, but I can’t let you pass up an opportunity to find peace in this part of your life, Jesse.”

Well, doesn’t that make so much sense. “I don’t want anything to ruin what I have.” What if they tell Ava about all of the hideous things I said? Fuck, I said some awful things. Bratty, unforgiveable things. I close my eyes, ashamed.

“Listen to me.” My cheeks are squeezed, and I obey her silent order, opening my eyes. “After everything we have been through, do you really think there is anything else that could possibly fracture what we have?” She has a point. “It’ll be done on your terms. We’ll take it slow, and they will accept it.”

My terms? God, I deserve the least grace in this situation. “I only need you,” I grumble, very aware I’m simply being a coward. I reach for her tummy and stroke gently. “Just you and our babies.”

“You don’t have to want something to need it, Jesse.” She sighs, holding on to her patience, holding my hand on her belly too. “We’re having twins. I know we have each other, but we’ll need our families too.” I know she’s making sense. The ache inside is as real now as it was twenty years ago. There’s a void that can’t be filled by anyone other than my mum and dad. That’s a fact. “And I’d like our children to have two sets of grandparents,” she adds, not that she needs to. I realize there are endless reasons for us to make amends. “We’re not normal, but we should make our children’s lives as normal as possible. It won’t change us or what we have together.” She squeezes my hand, reinforcing her words, as I scramble for the courage I need to tackle the final piece of my past. She’s so reasonable. I’d never say it out loud. I’m so fucking lucky to have her. I force her down to hug me. “Tell me you love me,” I order.

“I love you.” It’s not a sigh, but it’s close.

“Tell me you need me.”

“I need you.”

I breathe in as deeply as I can without it killing me. “Okay.” I let go of Ava and point to my head. “Plump my pillow, wife.” I grin. It’s so forced and fake. “I need to be comfy for this.”

She doesn’t slap me, but it’s only because she can’t. “I’m going to give you some privacy.”

“You’re not staying?” I ask, alarmed. Alone with my parents?

“No, I don’t need to. You’ll be fine.” And without giving me a chance to plead my case, she disappears out of the door, leaving me alone.

I’ll be fine.

Will I?

My heart starts beating double time, and there is fuck all I can do to stop it. My fingers twiddle. Then I frown, feeling at my jaw. What the fuck is that. I roll my eyes, exasperated. Over two weeks’ worth of growth. I hardly look the part for a reunion. I must look like a Yeti. For fuck’s sake. Naked, wounded, hairy, pasty, dry lips, things dangling out of my body, and a fucking piss bag.

My chaotic trail of thoughts grind to a startled stop when the door opens. My chest expands. My heart picks up speed again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper.

And then Dad appears.

And I lose it.

Composure is gone, and I shake my head, my throat closing up on me, my eyes burning. “Oh, my boy,” he whispers, losing it with me.

Fuck.

I roughly wipe at my face, feeling so fucking pathetic, and then Mum appears, and I’m gone again, face streaming, shame and regret joining me at one of the most vulnerable points in my life. I can’t run. I can’t hide.

Can’t drink.

And I don’t want to.

“I’m so sorry,” I croak. “So, so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said. I didn’t hate you. I hated myself.”

Amalie, crying silently, holds on to Mum as Dad hurries over to my bed and takes me in his arms. Hugs me so hard, I can hardly breathe. But while it really fucking hurts, I need him more than I need the pain to fuck off.

“Son, no. It’s me who’s sorry,” he sobs.

“But—”

“No, no buts. We’ve had years agonizing over losing you. We just wanted to—” He sniffs. Mum weeps. “Love you, my boy. Have missed you so much.”

We’ve lost years. Fucking years.

They love me.

They’ve missed me.

His words? Words I never, ever thought I’d hear? They’re what I needed to hear. I never thought I’d feel their hugs again in my life.But they’re here. For me.

Something breezes through my body—not pain, not discomfort—but something I’ve never felt before.

Forgiveness.

Mum joins us, hugging Dad as Dad hugs me. All three of us a mess of snot and tears and sobs. And Amalie stands at the end of the bed watching us. Smiling mildly through her tears.

I’ve never really known her as a woman, only a little girl. And that’s really fucking tragic. I can tell she’s going to bust my balls often.

Fucking hell, what have I let myself in for?

Mum and Dad ease away gently, and Dad lowers to the chair next to my bed, close, both of his hands taking one of mine. Mum perches on the bed. Amalie comes round the side and punches me in my bicep, grinning.

I look between them, wondering where the fuck we start. “So the wedding,” Amalie, chirps, sitting too. “Now Dad’s getting better, and Jesse’s pulled his head out his arse, I was thinking the next few months.”

“Wonderful,” Mum says, starting to faff with my sheets, flattening them.

“Wonderful,” Dad murmurs, not taking his eyes off me. It’s as if he can’t believe he’s touching me. Looking at me.

“All right?” I ask softly.

“I’m perfect, son,” he whispers, his lip quivering again. “Perfect.”

Perfect.

I didn’t think the word truly existed until I met Ava. Not that she’s perfect, she’s far from it. I laugh on the inside. Really far from it. But us together?

It’s pretty fucking close.

And despite everything that’s happened, the only reason my mum and dad are sitting here now is because of her.

Because she made me brave.

She brought me to life.

She made a man worthy of love.

She made this man.