Chapter 50
Delilah
The world swims back into focus, a blurry mess of shapes that gradually sharpen into the sterile white walls of a hospital room. The steady beeping of machines anchors me to the reality that my heart, this new one beating inside me, isn’t the one I was born with.
Mine was a piece of shit, but still.
Xavier is there, in a chair next to my bed, his head resting beside my hand on the mattress. He remains asleep, the shadows under his eyes like bruises and his hair a tousled mess. Instinctively, I know he’s been here the whole time watching over me. Protecting me.
As consciousness fully returns, Xavier stirs, his eyes opening slowly. When he finds me watching him, his fatigue is instantly replaced by relief. “Delilah,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. “You’re finally awake. How do you feel?”
“Like shit,” I manage to whisper, the words scratchy in my throat. “But it’s better than the alternative.”
He chuckles softly, the sound tinged with residual worry. “That’s pretty standard. But you’ll get well soon enough.”
Before I can reply, June knocks and opens the door, wheeling a small suitcase behind her. Her presence is a splash of color and energy in the sterile room. “Look who’s back among the living,” she says with a smile, but she scrutinizes my face as though searching for any signs of discomfort.
“I brought you some things from your dorm,” she continues, lifting the suitcase onto a nearby chair and flipping it open.
“I figured you’d want more than just hospital gowns to wear.
It’s a good thing Raven is at her parents’ house for Christmas to ‘fulfill her obligations as a dutiful daughter.’ If not, I wouldn’t have been able to sneak past her.
Your key is in the side pocket. Not that you’ll be going back there anytime soon. ”
“Thank you, June,” I say, touched by her thoughtfulness. My gaze falls on the contents of the suitcase—clothes, toiletries, and at the top, something unexpected: the dagger Xavier gave me. It’s an ornate thing, a piece of art, but still a weapon.
June notices my focus on the dagger and grins, picking it up. “I found this in your suitcase. I guess you’re into some intense cosplay, huh? This thing looks medieval.”
Xavier stiffens beside me, and I can feel the weight of the unspoken truth between us. It’s far more significant than June realizes, a symbol of protection Xavier insisted I keep close before the surgery. It serves as a reminder of the dangers still lurking outside these hospital walls.
“It was a gift from Xavier,” I say.
June shrugs before placing the dagger back in the suitcase. “Well, it’s definitely the coolest letter opener I’ve ever seen.”
Xavier’s hand tightens around mine, a silent message of solidarity and comfort. I squeeze back, grateful for his presence and for June’s, knowing that the road ahead is uncertain. But at least I won’t be alone.
The conversation shifts to lighter topics, but the dagger remains there, a gleaming token of darker thoughts, and of Xavier’s unspoken vow to always protect me.
My thoughts naturally shift to Ben, my first protector before Xavier came along.
The ache in my chest that began the day I found out about his death expands, becoming more painful and deep than the incision on my chest.
The smile on my face is like a mask that’s slipping, and suddenly, the walls of the hospital room close in on me.
I blink rapidly, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over until I can’t hold them back any longer.
The sobbing breaks through in heaving waves, each one a raw, painful echo of the grief I’ve been struggling to keep at bay.
June’s expression instantly shifts from cheerfulness to concern.
“Delilah?” She starts to reach for me, but at Xavier’s terse expression, she retracts her hand and backs up a step.
“I’ll give you two some space,” she says softly, her concerned gaze lingering on me, before she quietly exits the room.
As soon as the door clicks shut, Xavier’s composure vanishes.
“Don’t injure yourself,” he says, his voice laced with urgency. He moves closer, his eyes wide with alarm as he watches me clutch at the sheets, my body racked with sobs. “You just had surgery and need to rest.”
Although his words were meant to calm me, they’re nothing more than a distant noise. When I continue to cry, Xavier carefully crawls onto the hospital bed beside me and gently pulls me into his arms. His embrace is cautious, mindful of my surgery but filled with a desperate kind of protectiveness.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Xavier murmurs into my hair, his voice soothing. He strokes my back, a rhythmic comfort that gradually breaks through my melancholy. Held in his arms and surrounded by his warmth, the intensity of my sobs begins to lessen.
“I can’t believe Ben is gone,” I manage to say between shallow breaths, my voice muffled against Xavier’s chest. “It feels like there’s this hole inside me that just keeps getting bigger.”
Xavier tightens his hold slightly, his chin resting on top of my head.
“There are things you don’t know. Things I have to tell you, but I waited so I wouldn’t put everyone in danger,” he says, his voice barely audible even though he’s next to me.
“But now, I think it’s more detrimental not to tell you. ”
He takes a deep breath, and I go completely still. “McKenzie isn’t dead,” he says, his voice less than a whisper. “I needed everyone to think he was to save his life and to protect Declan and June.”
I pull back from Xavier and stare at him, my mouth hanging open. “You faked his death?”
He slaps a hand over my lips. “I lied about it. I had no choice.” He pauses, his gaze darting back and forth. “We can’t talk about this here. I’ll explain everything when you’re discharged and in my safe house.”
“You gave me a literal heart attack,” I hiss under my breath, my voice muffled by his palm. I shove his hand away from my face. “How could you do that to me?”
I lean back to slap him. It’s a good, satisfying hit that makes a nice thwack and stings my hand.
He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even blink or show any type of reaction. It’s as if I had done nothing.
“That was deserved, but it’ll be the last time you hit me,” Xavier says. “The next time, you’ll get fucked.”
I don’t respond. There’s nothing to say, not when he’s dead serious.
Instead, I sit there in stunned silence, absorbing the information that a friend, one I thought I had lost forever, isn’t dead.
The implications sink in and take root in the deepest part of me.
Ben’s alive. A wave of joy washes over me, removing all the anger and pain.
I begin to sob again, but this time, they’re tears of relief and happiness. Xavier pulls me close, and I bury my face into his chest, feeling his warmth and his strength supporting me.
He kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering there. “I hope I haven’t killed all of us.”
I tilt my head to look up at him, tracing the faint lines around his eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights he’s spent by my side. “You look like you could use a cigarette. Or maybe even something stronger. God knows I’d love a drink.”
He gives me a wry smile, a ghost of his usual smirk. “I quit smoking for you. With the surgery and everything, I can’t allow anything to compromise your recovery. Not even my bad habits.”
I blink at him. “Wow. That’s . . . really thoughtful.”
“Anything to keep you healthy. Get some rest,” he says.
“You should, too. You’re exhausted.”
He shrugs. “I think I’ve memorized every tile on the ceiling while you’ve slept.”
“Why don’t you take a nap since I’m awake.” When he shoots me a look of exasperation, I trail my fingers along his jaw to soothe him. “I promise I’ll scream if anyone suspicious comes in here.”
A knock on the door has Xavier inching his hand toward the firearm resting on his hip, hidden underneath his clothing. A nurse enters, her smile friendly but professional as she walks up to the machines I’m hooked up to. Xavier watches the woman as if she’s about to disconnect me from life support.
“Everything looks good,” she says after jotting down some notes on my chart. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m hanging in there.”
She smiles in encouragement. “Once your condition stabilizes in a couple days, you’ll be moved from the ICU to a less intensive ward designed for patients who are recovering but still require monitoring. So just keep resting, and you’ll be back to all of your normal activities in no time.”
Once she’s gone, with the door shut behind her, Xavier visibly relaxes. I have no idea what’s going on or why he felt the need to take such extreme measures and lie about Ben’s death, but whatever’s happening, along with his constant vigilance, it’s wearing him down.
“I wish there was something I could do to help you,” I say, running my fingers through Xavier’s hair. He sighs and closes his eyes, leaning into my touch.
“All I need is for you to get better. Nothing else.”
“What about Ben?”
He jerks back, his gaze narrowed. “Don’t say his name. It’s too risky.”
“But I thought we were safe here?”
“I’ve learned to never underestimate Edward Donovan. Everyone who has is dead.”