Chapter 42
Lucan
Bruises blossom on Sadie’s skin like cruel flowers.
She looks so small in the hospital bed, deep in a medicated sleep.
Every so often, her eyebrows pull together and her shoulders twitch. It’s like her body remembers what happened on the tower roof last night, even while her mind rests.
It fucking destroys me.
I rode in the ambulance with her to Ember Falls Memorial Hospital. While the paramedics transferred her to the care of doctors and nurses, I channeled my adrenaline into arranging a room for her.
The blinds are drawn, blocking the weak afternoon light. Somewhere below us, people are working, laughing, drinking, fucking. The world keeps moving while I sit here counting every rise and fall of her chest.
Floral arrangements fill the room, brought by her friends during the day as she remained unconscious. The fresh scent of flowers is tinged with the antiseptic hospital smell.
The machines beep softly, her IV drips steadily, and my eyes are constantly scanning for problems.
She almost died. I was almost too late.
Guilt and regret gnaw at me. If I had dialed my surveillance back a notch, I would’ve still been able to actively protect her. She would’ve let me.
I thought I was erasing risk with my extra precautions, but I was doing the opposite. I shouldn’t have jeopardized her trust like that. Especially not while a killer walked free.
Worthington’s not walking free anymore. He’s not anything anymore.
My mind knows the threat is over, but my body doesn’t understand yet. I can’t relax.
How can I, when Sadie’s lying battered in a hospital bed?
That bastard’s fingerprints are bruised into the translucent skin of her neck. Every time I look at the marks, the same sick pulse of violence lurches up my throat again.
My guilt, anger, and even the impending exhaustion are covering something else inside of me.
Terror. A level of fear I never thought I was capable of feeling.
The fear goes beyond not wanting to lose her.
I can’t lose her. A world doesn’t exist where I will survive that.
How can one person be so important?
I don’t know, but now I’ve found her, only death will keep me from her.
Every time I sit still, I notice a new fold in the starchy sheets that could be smoothed, a strand of hair to brush from her cheek, or a pillow that needs adjusting.
It helps to be near her, to do something.
The doctor enters the room while I’m tucking the blanket around Sadie’s feet for probably the fifteenth time.
Standing back from the bed, I watch like a hawk as the doctor checks Sadie’s vitals and updates the chart. I’ve kept my own notes on my phone of course, like a lunatic.
“Our patient is stable,” says Dr. Cortez when she’s finished. “No internal bleeding. She’ll be sore though.”
“When will she wake up?” I ask, failing to keep the desperate note from my voice.
“It’s mostly the medication keeping her sedated,” says the doctor. “She should wake soon. Nevertheless, we want to monitor the mild concussion for another night.”
My breath comes out in a whoosh. “I can take her home tomorrow?”
“That’s our hope. We’ll see how she’s doing.”
“And her medication? She winced—” I glance at my watch. “Twenty-two minutes ago.”
“A normal reflexive action,” says Dr. Cortez. “Sadie’s in no pain while she sleeps.”
With inhuman strength, I resist making her promise that’s true.
“Everything’s under control, Mr. Hale,” adds the doctor. “She will be just fine.”
Ah, fuck it.
“Do you promise?” I ask.
A smile flickers across Dr. Cortez’s face. “I promise. She’s a very lucky young woman.”
Lucky?
The word scrapes against my skull, because how can that be true?
Maybe the worst luck Sadie ever had was catching my attention.
“Okay.” I jerk my head in a tight nod. “Thank you.”
Dr. Cortez pauses. “If you don’t mind me saying, you could do with going home for a rest.”
“I’m staying here until she wakes up.”
The doctor nods as if she knew that’d be my answer, and leaves the room.
Resuming my place in the chair by Sadie’s bed, I’m alone with her and my punishing thoughts again.
The hospital bracelet on her wrist feels like a bad dream. Though I’m dying to hold her hand, I resist, because I’m not sure I have the right. Not when things were so unclear between us.
She mightn’t want me here at all, let alone clutching her in her sleep.
If she rejects me once she’s recovered, I’ll protect her from a respectful distance until she changes her mind.
And if she never changes her mind, I guess I’ll go the rest of my life loving and protecting her from afar, because forgetting her isn’t an option.
The power she has over me is unreal.
Yet I just want to give her more. That’s how powerful she is.
Detectives arrive to speak to me late in the day. I meet them out in the hall, watching her through the blinds while I answer their questions in a monotone.
Taking notes, they ask about what happened on the tower.
“We’re unclear on Worthington’s motive for the murders,” says a detective. “Any ideas?”
I shake my head. “Not one. He was questioned with the rest of the faculty back when Hannah was killed, but didn’t raise any red flags. He wasn’t on my radar.”
“Sadie might know his reasons,” he replies. “Since he was trying to end her life.”
Those last three words are like a sword through my stomach.
“She might,” I say. “But no one will be questioning her before she feels better.”
“Of course.”
Still, I want to be helpful, to close the case. For Sadie’s peace of mind, plus my uncle’s. He lost two children and deserves to know why.
“I’ll send you a copy of Parker’s journal, along with the progress we’ve made on deciphering the code,” I say to the detectives. “My cousin might be able to tell us Worthington’s motive from beyond the grave.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hale. That’s all for now.”
Around dinnertime, a nurse wheels in a tray set with food and juice for Sadie. He checks her IV and leaves the tray on the over-bed table, before nodding to me and leaving us again.
The soft beeps of the machines subtly increase.
I sit forward, alert.
Wake up, Sadie. Please wake up.
Behind her closed eyelids, her eyes start moving. Her heart rate on the monitor becomes stronger and her toes squirm beneath the blanket.
She inhales deeply and her eyelids flutter open.
For a few moments, she stares straight at the ceiling and blinks, like she’s only halfway back to reality.
Then she licks her swollen, bruised lips and frowns.
“Sadie,” I say quietly, not wanting to startle her.
Her head lolls to the left to face me. The second her eyes find mine, something inside my chest finally unclenches.
Her voice comes out in a croak. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You look rough.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure I do.”
She gingerly lifts an arm to inspect the bruising. “Not like me. I bet I look a million bucks.”
The movement seems to tire her, her arm falling back to the bed.
“Are you in pain?” I ask.
“No,” she says eventually, seeming distracted.
Her frown has returned, her eyes unfocused and shifting minutely, like she’s reliving something.
“You’re okay,” I say, to interrupt any troubling lines of thought.
“You came for me,” she says. “I thought I was dead, but you came for me.”
The sentence is barely audible, like she still can’t quite believe it.
“Always,” I say.
Her gray gaze locks onto me. “He’s gone?”
“He’s gone. I don’t want you to worry about that now though. Any of it.”
“But Lucan.” She swallows thickly. “There’s something you need to know. Your whole family does.”
“It can wait. Please rest.”
“I need to get it out,” she says. “To tell someone. You’re her family, you should know.”
“Alright. What is it?”
“Worthington was sleeping with Hannah.”
The blood in my veins turns to ice. “He told you that?”
She nods. “When she wanted to stop, he believed she would tell someone and—”
“He murdered her to protect himself.”
“Yes. And I think Parker suspected Worthington and confronted him in the forest during the Founder’s Run.”
My stomach sinks. “But he underestimated what a vicious bastard Worthington was.”
“All of us did. He was good at wearing a mask. He killed Chuck Fairchild for suspecting him too.”
“I wish Parker and Chuck shared their suspicions with me.” My voice is hollow. “Or the police. Or anyone.”
“They wanted to be certain. Probably because they knew what you’d do to Worthington.”
It’s a hard pill to swallow, but their actions are out of my control. The entire past is. I can only influence the future, and I will, having learned from that past.
Pushing down my frustrations, I clear my throat and focus on Sadie.
“Thank you for telling me about Hannah,” I say. “But now you need to rest. That’s your only job.”
Her eyes scan the mountains of flowers. “Are those all for me?”
“Your friends dropped by. The enormous peony arrangement is from my father.”
She rubs her unbruised eye. “Your father sent flowers?”
“Sure. He likes you. And he knows how I feel about you.”
My last words sound undeniably loaded, which I regret. Now’s not the time to talk about my feelings for her. It’s too much pressure.
Sadie tries to sit up, moving awkwardly due to her injuries and the IV drip.
“Easy,” I murmur, leaning forward.
“I’m fine,” she says.
“You’re clearly not.”
“I’ve got it.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll let you do it.”
It feels unnatural to do nothing while she shuffles with painstaking slowness to sit with her back against her pillows.
“Are you hungry?” I point to the tray table. “The nurse just brought it.”
Sadie presses a hand to her stomach. “Maybe. I’m definitely thirsty.”
I’m on my feet instantly, but she’s already pulling the tray toward her.
“I can manage,” she says.
My jaw ticks. “That had to hurt.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need help.”
But the way she braces her arm to her ribs says otherwise.
“You mean you don’t need help from me,” I say, lowering back into my seat.
“I don’t mean it like that.” Sadie pauses. “I just don’t want you worried about me.”
The laugh that leaves me is rough and exhausted. “At this point, I’m made up entirely of my worry for you. At least let me call the doctor. Maybe you need more painkillers.”
“No. My head feels so foggy. If I take any more meds, I’ll never get up.”
Frowning in concentration, she struggles to drag the juice cup to the edge of the tray. Her fingers fumble with the foil cover, eventually casting it aside.
Then she stares balefully at the cup, readjusting her hand but not lifting it.
I can hardly bear it, but I don’t act, as instructed.
Her fingers go slack. Her brows knit, like she’s thinking about something deeply.
I wait.
Sadie looks up. “Lucan?”
The vulnerability in her eyes kills me.
“Yes?” I ask.
“I’m having trouble with this. Would you help me, please?”
Warmth spreads through my chest. “Yes.”
I hold the cup for her while she drinks, her hand laid over mine.
The act seems more intimate than almost anything else we’ve done, and I wonder if she feels that way too.
“Can you eat?” I ask, when she’s finished drinking.
“I don’t think my stomach’s awake yet. Soon, maybe.”
“Okay. If there’s anything you feel like eating, tell me and I’ll get it.”
A complicated look settles over her beautiful features.
“You will,” she says quietly. “I know you will.”
I don’t push her. Not now.
Sadie’s hand, resting on the blanket, opens toward me. She beckons once with her pointer, her shy gaze on me.
My heart grows fifty sizes. I thread my fingers through hers and squeeze gently, rubbing my thumb against her wrist.
“Try to sleep some more,” I say.
Her eyelids droop and her voice sounds far away. “You’ll be here?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Good,” she murmurs.
Something fundamental in her seems to relax. Her fingers soften as she drifts off to sleep.
She’s really going to be okay.
My shoulders loosen a little, but I don’t stop monitoring the machines and counting her breaths per minute. That’s not who I am.
I fixate. I’m too much.
Maybe I can learn to tame my more invasive tendencies, but who I am in my heart is set in stone.
And engraved into that stone?
Sadie Marlowe’s name.
In the pristine, dreamlike room, I try to imagine time has stopped.
Because in this moment, she’s alive, I’m holding her small, soft hand, and she wants me here.
For once, I won’t ask for more.