Chapter 50
Fifty
C ooper
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I’m woken by the sound of something familiar digging into my brain and forcing me out of the numb darkness.
Then comes the sharp, sterile tang of disinfectant.
I blink, but it’s too bright, cutting through my vision with needle-sharp intensity.
My mind tries to understand what is happening, but everything is heavy, like I’m surfacing from the deepest part of the ocean.
I realize immediately that something is off. My arms are too heavy. My throat is dry and raw, like I’ve been screaming for hours. That incessant beeping won’t stop. It’s the constant humming background to this new world I’ve woken up in.
I suck in a breath as everything comes into focus. White walls. White ceiling. Shiny windows. A monitor to my left attached to an IV taped to my arm, tubing winding upward to a bag filled with clear liquid. A whiteboard hangs on the wall across from me, my name written at the top.
I’m alive.
The fragmented memories of why I thought I’d died hit me. The boat. The crash. The water swallowing me whole. The panic. The blood. The noise.
My leg .
I shift and look down, expecting to see my leg there on the bed, bandaged and bruised.
It’s not.
It’s gone, and in its place is an empty space under the sheet below my right knee. But that doesn’t make sense; I can still feel it there. It hurts, aches, but it’s healing. My mind must be playing tricks on me.
Cruel, awful tricks.
I throw off the blanket, expecting to prove to myself that my leg is okay, and my world splinters apart. There’s a bruised knee and bandages on a stump.
It’s gone. My leg is gone.
Phantom tingles run through the empty space. A cruel lie. Suddenly, I’m drowning all over again, being dragged under by the cold, hard truth.
Door creaking open, a young nurse slips in, clipboard in hand and a furrow between her brows. She stops short when she sees me, expression changing to one of pity. It instantly makes this moment worse. I don’t want her fucking pity; I want my life back. I want my leg.
“You’re awake,” she says in a sweet voice. “Let me get the doctor.”
I could ask her what happened, but I already know. The chaos. The water. The fucking boat crash.
“Wait.” I stop her.
She hesitates in the doorway. “Yes?”
“I remember what happened. I don’t need anyone to explain that part to me. I was in a boating accident.”
She nods once.
“Did anyone else get hurt?” I hesitate. “Did anyone… die?”
She pales, and my heart races, the monitor next to me beeping faster.
“Who?” I demand.
“I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say?—”
“Please tell me.” I have to stop myself from yelling at her. I’ll try begging instead. “I can’t sit here in any more agony. I need to know.”
She checks over her shoulder, then closes the door to the hallway. “The driver of the boat passed away.”
I blink at her, heart jumping to my throat. “Which boat?”
She can’t mean Ethan. He was there. He was with me before I passed out. I think he might have been the one to pull me from the water, but I’m not sure. What if something happened to Ethan after that? What if he’s gone? I can’t live without Ethan.
“The, umm… the older guy? Mr. Laurence.” She clears her throat. “You were in surgery for a while, and then you were sedated, so things may have changed. You were life-flighted here from Nantucket. They… they can’t find Mr. Laurence’s body.”
The emotions that hit me are complicated and numerous. Relief. Grief. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Everything. All at once.
Every. Fucking. Thing.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Anyone else?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t believe so. You almost died, Cooper. You’re lucky to be alive.”
I huff and turn away. I don’t feel so lucky. “You’re probably going to tell me they did everything they could to save my leg?”
“I’ll leave that to the doctor,” she says, and then she’s gone.
I can guess how this is going to go. The doctor is going to come in here and tell me the same things she did about how lucky I am to be alive.
Then he or she will explain the surgery I underwent.
Ask if I have questions. Tell me about a care plan I’m going to have to follow whether I like it or not.
Rehabilitation. A prosthetic leg. Medicine. Maybe more surgeries.
I’m too exhausted to hear it, so I lay my head on the pillow and let myself cry. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, but I can’t help it. I’m so fucking angry and so fucking sad—this never should’ve happened.
I give myself five minutes.
Shortly after that, the doctor comes in, saying the exact things I expected him to say. This is going to be a long process. Lifelong, unfortunately. He leaves, and the nurse gives me more medicine, and I’m left alone.
Not for long.
Someone knocks on the door.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” Ethan says, rushing inside. “They told me you wouldn’t be awake for another hour. I went home to shower. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Cooper.”
I hold up my hand. “Don’t. It’s fine, probably better I faced waking to this alone.”
Ethan’s frown deepens, and he sits on the edge of the bed. He picks the side where my leg should be, and I kind of want to kick him in the kidney for the reminder. Not that I could forget.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask.
“On his way. He’ll be here soon.”
Sure. Guess we’ll see.
“Why did Gregory do that?” I ask, anger boiling over instantly. “Why the fuck did that guy drive his boat into us?”
Ethan is quiet for a long moment. “He found out about me and Arden and lost his temper… and apparently, his mind. Then he lost control of the boat.”
Every nerve in my body zings with either fire or ice, waging war within me. My thoughts spiral, trying to grasp onto this reality I no longer recognize as my own. So I’m supposed to live without a leg because Gregory lost his temper?
What. The. Fuck?
“I’m so sorry,” Ethan says. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have hidden my relationship with Arden.”
I give my brother a long, withering look. As easy as it would be to blame him for this, I can’t.
“But you told our dad about her, and you had plans to tell everyone else. This isn’t your fault. How did Gregory find out, anyway?”
I can’t imagine Arden told him, but then again, that girl is a goodie. Heaven forbid she tell a lie.
His lips thin. “They were on the boat when Sybil let it slip. Gregory lost his shit, and when he saw us, I think he thought he was going to scare us, but he lost control of his boat and…”
And I already know the rest.
“Gregory is dead?” I ask.
“They haven’t been able to find his body, but there was so much blood in the water. It got dark. There are sharks in those waters, too. Drowned or not, they would’ve come for him.”
Yeah. Gregory is dead. I have no doubt about that. And I have nobody alive to blame, and as fucked up as it is, my psyche can’t handle it. I need to place blame as much as I need my fucking leg back.
“Sybil knew about you and Arden?”
Ethan nods. “Arden tried to tell her about us, and Sybil demanded we break up. We didn’t, obviously, so Arden had to lie to Sybil. The truth came out on the boat.”
It’s been years since that girl left our lives, but I still haven’t gotten over it.
Now I know I never will, but not for the ways I used to think.
Every time I take a step or even look at my leg, I’ll be reminded of how I lost it, of the girl who couldn’t keep her mouth shut, and I’ll be reminded of how much I hate her.
“Why can’t Sybil let us have anything good in our lives?” I spit.
“Sybil puts her family above all else,” Ethan says. “I’m not defending her, but I’m not surprised.”
Yeah. Well, fuck that, and fuck her.
The next six months are some of the hardest in my life, but I let my hatred for Sybil drive me through it. Like a fucked up beacon of hope, it’s leading me to a better place.
Turns out losing a leg below the knee is one of the easier limbs to lose, but it’s still hard as hell.
I go through months of rehab and two different prosthetics before I can walk without horrible pain.
There are so many times when I want to give up, but there’s one driving force, one thing I cling to like a lifeline.
A promise to myself.
A promise of revenge.
One day, Sybil Laurence will pay for the pain she’s caused me and my family. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but it will happen.
Until then, I’ll be patient, take my time, do whatever I need to do. I’ll gain her trust, get in her good graces, and make her feel safe with me. She’ll think I don’t blame her for all the horrible shit she’s done. I’ll make her feel like the most important person in the world.
I swear… I swear on my dead mother, on my lost leg, on my brother’s broken engagement, on her asshole father’s decisions, and on everything that has ever happened between me and Sybil, I’m going to make Sybil Laurence wish she’d never met me.
I will break that girl just like she’s broken me.