Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
KANE
The first thing I notice is the sound: a steady beep that’s close enough to feel like it’s inside my throbbing skull.
And then comes the smell of bleach and something sterile that burns the back of my throat.
My eyelids feel glued shut and heavy, and I drag them open until the world bleeds in, blurry and too bright.
I blink, staring up at an ugly cream ceiling. Where am I? What happened?
“Hey, careful,” a voice says to my left.
Confused, I look around and then see Chris sitting in a chair, resting his elbows on his thighs as he works his jaw and cracks his knuckles.
He looks wrecked.
I try to talk, my voice croaky. “What…happened?”
“You crashed your car.”
Flashes come back in pieces. The collision, exploding glass, the crunch of steel.
“You scared me, man,” Chris murmurs as he rubs his eyes. “Thought you were gone.”
How long have I been out?
He sees the question in my eyes and says, “You were taken into surgery for internal bleeding. By the time they opened you up, they found your spleen had ruptured. That was three days ago.”
My throat works around a dry swallow, and I stare up at the ceiling. Every muscle in my body aches, but nothing compares to the bruising pain in my chest. Why is he here and not Jessica? Where is she, anyway? Is she okay?
“You can’t pull shit like that, man,” he says more gently. “How would I have explained to my sister that the man she loves had died? She’d never forgive me.”
Pain throbs behind my ribs. “You were right. I’m not good enough for her,” I rasp, but Chris shakes his head, his knee jiggling more incessantly as he rubs his knuckles across the palm of his hand.
“No, man. You were right. It’s my fault.
” He sniffs and eases back in the chair.
“My pride got the better of me. My sister loves you. And you’ve been nothing but good to her. ”
The steady bleep fills the silence, but I don’t know what to say, wondering what this means and wishing Jessica would walk through the door. I’d do anything to see her, even for a second if that’s all he’ll allow.
“Make her happy.” His voice thickens with emotion, sounding close to breaking. “Promise me you’ll treat her well.”
My brows furrow, and I look over at him, but he’s staring at his hands, flexing his fingers as my heart rate increases on the monitor. What is he saying?
“Promise me,” he repeats as his eyes lock on mine. “Promise me, Ravencourt.”
I nod, croaking, “I promise.”
“She can’t go through this again.” His jaw clenches, and he looks away, eyes glassy with emotion. “I don’t want to see her cry over anyone else in the hospital.”
A dull ache of shame spread through my chest.
Fuck.
I never considered how this would hurt her. Intoxicated, reckless, and selfish, I only thought about my own pain.
Chris stands up from the chair. “Did you ever read the quote on the bookmark in that tattered copy of Emma my sister keeps reading from?”
When I look at him questioningly, he continues, “It was our Mom’s, and it never left that book. It was her favorite quote by Rumi. Jessica got it for Mother’s Day.”
Where is he going with this?
Chris rubs the space between his brow, then seems to decide on something. “It reads, Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
He extends his hand, palm facing up.
“What do you say, Ravencourt? How about we meet on that field?”
A truce.
Something warm and unfamiliar tugs beneath my ribs.
I clasp his hand, and we share a smile. Maybe it should feel awkward to finally bury the hatchet, but it doesn’t. Chris lets go of my hand, starting to walk away. But then he turns as he reaches the door and says, “I’m sorry for what I did to you.”
“I deserved it.”
Chris shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. Jessica told me about the senator’s wife. That’s not on you.”
I remain silent, not trusting myself to speak. It’s still raw.
Turning to leave again, he stops and looks back at me. “If you ever tell anyone I quoted Rumi, I’ll kill you.”
A chuckle rumbles in my chest, and I wince, still sore everywhere. “Duly noted.”
Shaking his head with a soft laugh of his own, he exits the room, and I sink back against the pillow, staring at the empty doorway long after he’s gone. It’s not much, but it feels like the first thing I’ve gotten right in a long damn time. And maybe if I don’t fuck it up, I can get my girl back.