18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Lucas
F reya’s hand looks so small.
Her fingers curl around mine, holding on for dear life, like she’s afraid I’ll let go.
Part of me wants to release her and walk away.
But the other stronger part can’t leave her like this.
Lying on the hospital bed with angry burns lining her arms.
The doctor said they will heal without too much scarring, but fuck, I want to take it all away.
I want to release the pain that’s sewn into that little frown on her forehead.
To tell her that everything is okay, that I’m here to protect her.
But we’re not living in a fucking fairy tale, and I won’t spin those lies to her, no matter how much she needs to hear them.
She groans, and I sit up straighter, gripping her hand tighter.
The frown on her forehead deepens and her eyes blink open.
She sits up and looks around the room, her eyes widening before settling back on me, and her frown disappears.
Her stare cuts right into my soul.
Begging me to forgive her, to lean forward and claim her plump, pink lips that I’ve been missing and dreaming about every time I close my eyes.
“What happened?” she asks, her voice all husky, and fucking hell, it’s sexy as sin.
“The town hall blew up,” I say, and she sucks in a deep breath.
She coughs.
I reach for the glass of water, bringing the straw to her lips.
She takes in several sips, her throat bobbing up and down.
Her cheeks are covered in soot from the smoke, and for the better part of the last thirty minutes, I’ve wanted to wipe it away.
But I can’t.
She’s not mine anymore.
Hell, was she ever, really?
“Is everyone okay?” she asks, and I place the cup down on the table next to her, not wanting to burden her with more bad news.
“Hazen and Gage?”
“Yes, they are okay, but anyone who was in the town hall isn’t. It was packed, Freya.”
Her frown deepens, and she sighs.
“Fuck.”
We stay in silence for several minutes, and I still don’t let go of her hand, and she doesn’t let go of mine either.
There’s so much I want to say but don’t.
I want to yell and scream—hell, even walk away.
But there’s something holding me back, keeping me here.
She could have died today, and that’s not something I want to experience again.
It felt like someone ripping open the last little bit of my heart, pulling it apart vein by vein until nothing remained.
As much as I hate to admit it, Freya still has her claws in my heart, and I have no idea how to release her grasp.
I want to hate her, to walk away and never look back, but I can’t, and that pisses me off.
I’m so fucked up.
“Has the doctor been in yet?” she asks.
“Yeah, he’s been in and said it’s nothing critical. Everything will heal.”
She smiles, and I don’t remove my hand from hers, afraid that if I do, I’ll lose the last piece of her I still have.
“I’m really glad you’re here with me,” Freya whispers, and my gaze locks on to the hospital floor.
I stare blankly at the dirty white vinyl while my stomach twists and turns.
“I didn’t really have a choice,” I mumble, and the bed squeaks as Freya moves away from me.
She tries to pull her fingers free from mine, but I hold on tighter before she gives in.
“Are we okay?” she asks, and I finally look back up, her blue eyes staring into my very soul.
“It’s not as simple as that,” I say.
Freya huffs.
“What can I do to get back to the way we were?”
My tongue slides over my dry lips.
“When I look at you, all I can see is death. I see you killing my mother and taking her away from me.”
Tears well up behind her eyes and her bottom lip wobbles.
“When I look at you, I always see life.” She releases a heavy sigh.
My pulse quickens.
No one has ever said those words to me.
I’m not a good person.
I’m fucked up, broken, and here she is, telling me she sees life in me?
“You were, and still are, always there to protect me. To help me see the light in the darkness. I’m so fucking sorry I killed your mother, and I’ll spend every last second of every day trying to take that pain away from you, but please don’t let it ruin us. Ruin what we had.” Tears stream down her ash-covered cheeks, and I reach out, wiping them away.
She leans into my touch, and without thinking, I close the distance between us, claiming her salty lips in a light kiss.
Butterflies flutter around my broken heart, begging me to open up again, to let her in.
Except, I can’t.
Not yet.
But I have hope that one day soon, I’ll be able to.
She could have died in that blast, and that thought kills me.
The door opens and I pull back.
Dr.
Phillips walks in dressed in scrubs, with a mask over his nose and mouth.
He carries a clipboard and quickly scans it before coming to stand on the other side of Freya’s hospital bed.
“Hello, Freya, I’m Doctor Phillips,” he says and Freya nods.
He reaches out, removing the bandages one of the paramedics put over her burns.
He checks out the marks on her arms, and I finally let go of Freya’s hand.
Her warmth is gone, and I want it back.
“We’ll put some cream on your burns and wrap them up. Keep applying the cream over the next couple of weeks, change the bandages, and they should heal nicely. Come back in two or three weeks for a follow-up to see how they’re healing. Any questions?” he asks Freya, and she shakes her head.
“Thanks, Doc,” I say, standing, and he nods, following me out the door.
He shuts it behind him and moves over to the nurses’ station, handing me Freya’s cream.
“Hope you don’t mind me asking, but what on earth happened? I’ve got my beds full of burn victims,” he says with a frown.
“Explosion at the town hall,” I say, bracing my hands on the desk.
“Do whatever you can to help the victims, even those from the Hood side. We’ll cover the bills.”
Dr.
Phillips presses his lips together before nodding.
I know he wants to ask more, but he won’t.
He’s been our family doctor for as long as I can remember.
He knows to never ask any questions, outside of what he needs to know to help us.
He gets paid well enough to keep his mouth shut.
I head back into Freya’s private room, leaving the cream next to her bed.
Her eyes close, and I turn to leave.
I should get back to help Hazen and Gage.
“Stay with me, please?”
I want to say no.
I should be with the guys, cleaning up the mess and figuring out who the fuck did this.
Who put us, Freya, and our people in danger.
But I can’t leave her.
Not when she’s looking at me with her puppy-dog eyes.
Not when I could have lost her forever.
So I settle back into the uncomfortable-as-fuck hospital chair instead.
Freya sleeps on and off for the next hour.
Nurses come and go before securing fresh bandages around both her arms.
There’s a knock on the door and one of the nurses steps inside.
“Your next of kin is here to take you home,” she says, and I stand, ready to meet her mother, but Kai Mercer walks in instead.
What the ever-loving fuck?