35. AVERY
AVERY
Blood. So much blood. Pasted. Dried. Dark.
“So much blood,” I whisper, pulling my hands out of Jo’s grasp as she tries to clean it off my hands with a wipe.
“Oh, sugar.” She pulls me into her again, trying to pet my head onto her shoulder.
But I can’t see the clock like that, and I need to see it.
Every second that ticks by. Every minute that elapses to the next hour.
The white walls blur as I stare. Counting every jitter of the never-stopping clock hand even when Rowan stands in front of me.
I picture the clock behind his hulking frame.
Tick-tick-tick-tick…
“I’m sorry,” he sighs, crouching in front of me.
I’ve always seen the similarities, but it’s only now that I realize how identical they are. Green eyes filled with sadness and regret bore into mine. Bright. Relucent. So samey and yet so different where they lack the blue ocean marled through the vivid verdure.
Still, fresh tears form, collecting on the brim of my lashes before they roll hot and heavy down my cheeks, stinging every pore they seep into, scorching every inch of skin they sluice down.
“I just needed space. I needed…I…” Bite-cracked lips purse.
“It’s okay,” I tell him with the numbness in my chest prickling through me. “I know. It should’ve been me, not him.”
I can’t even bring myself to say his name. The mere thought of it lodges in my throat like the blood gargling and spitting from his mouth.
So much blood.
“No. No, that’s not what I meant.” Rowan takes my hand and with a deep breath tells me, “I needed space to save him. I had to save him, Mermaid.”
“It should’ve been me.”
“Doc clearly disagreed. I disagree.” He cracks a small grin that doesn’t quite reflect in his eyes as usual. When he opens his mouth to speak again, Callie walks into the waiting room with a small cardboard tray of coffees.
One of the surgeons walks in behind her in his scrubs. The squeak of his rubber shoes makes my insides twist.
Whatever he was about to say is forgotten as Rowan stands to his feet, reaching for Callie.
He pulls her into him, hugging her like you would a comfort blanket when the surgeon looks around the room.
I keep looking for any sign of Rhett’s blood on his scrubs, but there isn’t a single drop. Not even on his shoes.
I don’t understand. How can there be no blood on him when I am covered in it? My clothes. My skin. My hair. It’s under my nails and dried into my sense of smell. I swear I can taste it too when I inhale deeply. The metallic tang curdles through my insides.
“Good news.” The older man smiles, pulling his scrub cap off. “We were able to take the least intrusive route. We’ve located and retrieved the bullet, and we’re working on repairing the lung.”
“There. You see?” Jo pats my lap. “I told you all that he would be fine. He has a lot to stick around for.”
Although the surgeon doesn’t outright contradict her statement, he tells us all with that cordial tone doctors like to use when it could go one of two ways, “The next twenty-four hours are vital.”
“Doc will push through.” Jo nudges me.
“Dr. Reynolds has done swell so far. He’s in good health, and God be willing, we should be done soon enough. We are currently giving him a transfusion to help with blood loss, and as procedure we like to encourage family to donate, especially with the rare blood types.”
“Of course.” Callie nods. “Thank you for filling us in.”
“How much longer do you think the surgery will run?” Rowan finally speaks. I’m glad one of us has the composure to do so.
“Depends on how quickly we can stop the bleed.”
“And he’s going to be all right? No permanent damage?”
Taking a step back, the surgeon shrugs noncommittedly. “It’s impossible to be sure how the patient will recoup with any trauma, but like I said, Dr. Reynolds is in good health. Everything is in perfect working order, so it looks good for him.”
Before he can be asked any more questions, the surgeon excuses himself, leaving us to wait some more. I’m slipping back into my trance when Callie offers me a cup of coffee.
“Nora is on her way, and until she gets here, Gretch has the girls. It’ll help keep them from asking questions if they’re distracted.” I nod, and she hugs me to her side. “You might not want to talk about it right now, but it’s important that you know this isn’t your fault.”
“Why do you all keep telling me that? Kayla wanted to hurt me? It was me she wanted to kill, not—”
“And Rhett saved you, so…” At her words my numb heart chooses this moment to start feeling again. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt suffocates me. “She got what she deserved.”
“Because she’s dead?” I scoff. “That’s not what she deserved. He could’ve died. He could still—”
“But he won’t,” Rowan states firmly from the doorway.
“What about next time? Kayla’s out of the picture but…but Carl and…and…”
“Avery.” Callie blows out a breath, looking up at Rowan, and just as he’s about to say something, one of the FBI agents walks in the room.
I’ve never felt so angry as I do right now.
Months, in fact years, of pent-up frustrations, disappointments, and swallowing down my feelings for the sake of keeping the surface of the water calm while I’m drowning underneath, all boil down to this moment where after spending the last however many months thinking life couldn’t get much worse than waiting and waiting for the day I could put my past behind me, it’s not just worse, it’s come to a screeching halt around me.
I can’t breathe for fear that my next lungful of air could be the last I share with the one person who has loved me without asking for anything in return. My heart is beating while his might stop at any given second.
Tick, tick, tick…
It’s all I hear as the pushier agent enters the room. They’re staring at me, standing there with piteous looks on their faces.
“I saw you,” I say as the short and mean one opens his mouth. “You were following me. All day. All fucking day you’ve stalked me, and you did nothing!”
God, I’m so damn mad that I can barely hear myself over my pounding pulse. It’s roaring in my ears as my words rip my throat raw.
“You could’ve stopped her!” My yell echoes around us, and I can’t bear to listen to the sound of my own voice.
There has to be something I can do apart from sit here waiting. It’s all I’ve done this entire time. Wait. Have patience. Smile through it. Have faith.
I’m done.
One step after another, I walk past the agents, pulling my hand free of Callie’s grasp when she tries to pull me back. The walls are closing in, and I won’t let them crush me. I can’t and I won’t.
“Mrs. Henderson,” one of the feds calls after me, and when I spin to look at them, my vision frays red at the edges.
“Stop calling me that!” I scream loud enough that a nurse stops to look in. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what happened. And I don’t care!”
Turning, I leave the room, ignoring all the voices calling me back.
The numbness and anger slowly ebb into loneliness with every step I take toward the elevator.
I’m hollow as I get in and press the button to the phlebotomy floor followed by the one to close the doors in front of me as Rowan heads straight for me.
At a glance, it could be Rhett. A very quick glance.
If I didn’t know the way Rhett moves with long strides and an awing ease that’s so entrancing, I might have to do a double take.
The doors close before Rowan reaches me, and I stumble back with relief.
Maybe he doesn’t blame me, but I can’t bear the worry and pain in his eyes.
He’s hurting because of this mess my father left behind.
The problem I brought to their doorstep.
The doors open, and instead of getting out, I ride all the way down to the lobby.
It’s dark and late, and I don’t know what I’m doing down here when the only place I need to be is waiting for Rhett to come out of surgery.
It’s been almost five hours. I can barely remember the last thing I said to him before Rowan pulled me off him and Callie took me away.
It was so loud I could barely hear myself think, let alone what I was saying.
I hope I told him I love him. I hope it was the one thing he was certain of.
“Ma’am.” A tall, broad security guy nods at me as I pause in front of the automatic doors.
I listen to the rain hammer the concrete outside and the asphalt beyond it.
It’s the first thing that makes me smile even as the sweetest memory stabs at my chest. I’m entranced in that enthralling melody of Rhett’s.
The one he hums when we’re lying in bed or swaying barefoot in Jo’s kitchen.
The one he hummed in my ear when he danced with me on Duke’s boat and under the stars the night he asked me to move in with him.
Five nights. Four days. All the fear I felt then is nothing to the grief I feel now.
“Want me to take you somewhere?” A heavy arm wraps around my shoulders, and I keep inhaling breath after breath, waiting for the leather and brine scent that I love so much to fill my lungs along with the peppery and citrus notes of expensive cologne.
There’s nothing but the sharp metallic bite of blood.
He bled so much that his blood is still following me everywhere.
I’m drowning in it. Thick molasses that make it impossible to see past the stain on the pavement and that awful startle and panic and fear that darkened his eyes.
It’s all I can see. The shudders and shivers of his entire being fighting the urge to let go still rack through me.
“I gave up on him once.” Rowan blows out a quick breath. He sounds winded enough that he must have taken the stairs all the way down. “I won’t do that again. I’ve lost far too many brothers already, and I won’t lose Rhett.”