Chapter 37
Adora
Would you be okay if you never saw him again?
I once asked Temperance that question when she didn’t know what to do about Bones. I never thought to ask it of myself.
So I stayed in limbo, ready to reject him, but also not ready to let him go. I had good reasons, I know I did. I couldn’t trust him again. And yet I still let him crawl under my skin, little by little, until, before I knew it, he was swimming inside my veins again. Just like before.
Unfortunately for me, life forced that stupid question down my throat and then ripped the answer out of my screaming lungs.
Suddenly, nothing mattered anymore.
And now it matters again because he’s finally awake.
I can look into his eyes, hear his voice, get lost in that crooked smile of his. And above all, I can finally accept the fact that he did the impossible — he ignited the spark of trust back inside me.
“Are you okay, adorable?” His raspy voice pulls me back to the present.
It’s late now. He fully woke up about an hour ago, after drifting in and out of consciousness for a while.
But we didn’t really get a chance to talk.
Too many people wanted to be here for him.
Hearing Mama call a whole bearded, tattooed, full-grown man ‘pumpkin’ is a memory that will forever remain burned in my mind. I’ll never let him hear the end of it.
“Yeah. I’m just happy the doctor said everything seems fine,” I murmur, taking his hand in mine. “If there’d been any more bad news, I swear my heart was ready to call it quits.”
His fingers flex against mine before he speaks.
“Not possible,” he says, a weak smile dancing at the corner of his lips. “Your heart is too strong for that.” His brows furrow. “Now tell me the truth — how have you been holding up?”
I raise my chin and look down at him like I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I’ve been holding up just fine. Why wouldn’t I?”
His eyes narrow, pinning me in place, calling my bullshit out without a word. My shoulders slump.
“The first days were really bad, but I powered through,” I whisper.
“I have a lot of friends now. And a cat. They all helped me take it one day at a time.” I glare at him, swallowing the tears climbing up my throat.
“It was stupid of you. Stepping in front of me like that. You should’ve run. Pushed me away. Yelled. Anything else.”
“There was no time for anything else, adorable,” he says, voice rough, still scraped raw from disuse. “I heard an engine start, and by the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. I wasn’t going to let that fucker hurt you.”
He blows out a slow breath. “I honestly didn’t expect him to come so soon. Or be so bold. I’m just glad the club took care of him.”
I arch a brow, my fingers still wrapped around his, afraid to let go. He doesn’t know everything that happened, but there’s no use bringing that up now. There’ll be time for it later.
“Well, because of your oversight, now you owe me a bike ride. Don’t think I won’t hold you to it.”
A faint huff of a laugh escapes him, and the heart monitor skips into a slightly faster rhythm before settling again.
“I’ll take you on that ride the first chance I get.” His thumb drags slowly over my knuckles. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about—”
“You wanted to tell me Sombra was my father,” I interrupt him, tilting my head. “And ask for another chance.”
His eyes sharpen despite the exhaustion weighing them down. “How?”
A small, almost wicked smile pulls at my lips. “Bones told me. We’ve been meeting here and talking a lot these past few weeks. He also told me he’s the one you’ve been asking to break into my bookstore and leave the notes. When you couldn’t, that is.”
“That fucking snitch. I go into a coma and he turns into a chatterbox,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat behind it.
His jaw tightens, then relaxes. The humor drains from his face.
“I’m sorry, adorable. I didn’t want to hurt you with that intel, but it was your right to know.
” His voice drops. “I’ve suspected it for a while, and both Sombra and your mother confirmed it. ”
He studies me carefully. “How are you feeling about it?”
I shrug, my gaze dropping to our joined hands. “Honestly, it wasn’t that much of a surprise. It explains a lot.”
My throat tightens. I swallow it down. Both… No. All three of my parents are dead and I’m fucking elated about it. I went through all the phases of grief in a single second, then added another at the end — pure bliss.
“How do you feel about it?” I lift my eyes back to his. “After all, I’m the daughter of both the man and woman responsible for ruining your life.”
For a moment, he just looks at me. Then his thumb brushes over my skin again.
“You’re your own person, Adora,” he says quietly. “Nothing like them.” His mouth curves into a soft smile. “I couldn’t care less if you were the daughter of the Devil himself. I’d just kiss your devilish horns and love you just the same.”
I can’t stop a breathless chuckle leaving my chest. “There’s definitely something wrong with you. But there’s something wrong with me too.”
His smile stretches, so fucking stubborn. “I love whatever’s wrong with you. We can be wrong together.”
The question hangs between us before he asks it.
“Can we?”
The room suddenly feels smaller.
“What would your answer have been that day?”
I search his face, noting the exhaustion in his eyes, unable to hide the quiet hope.
“That day,” I say slowly, “my answer would’ve been no.” I let two breaths pass between us. “Today, however, things seem to be different.”
That quiet hope is suddenly not quiet anymore. It flares to life like it’s a wildfire and I just poured a ton of gasoline on it. I try to get the next words out, but they lodge somewhere behind my ribs. He must see something on my face, because that wildfire dies an instant death.
“Adora,” he says carefully. “You know you don’t owe me shit just because I took a bullet—”
“You took five,” I snap before I can stop myself. “But who the fuck is counting anymore?”
The words come out harsh. Accusing. A tear slips down my cheek, leaving a burning trail behind it.
His hand jerks in mine like he wants to reach up and wipe it away, but the movement costs him.
His fingers tremble. I squeeze his hand gently, keeping it down against the mattress.
He’s not strong enough to fight me right now.
“I’m not fucking stupid,” I say, my voice cracking despite my effort to keep it steady. “I know I don’t owe you. Not like that. Not a relationship. Not a second chance.”
Something inside me splinters open. I didn’t even realize how tightly I’d been holding myself together until now.
I drag in a shaky breath. Then another. Trying to stop whatever the fuck is happening to me.
He doesn’t interrupt. He just watches, patient, giving me the time I need.
“I want to try,” I finally whisper.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot these days. The whole truth is out in the open now. For the first time, those evil people are gone, and their shadows aren’t hanging over us anymore. We never had that before.”
My vision blurs. I blink hard.
“I want to see what we could become… if it were just us.”
His throat moves as he swallows.
“But…?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head. “There’s no but.”
My laugh comes out rough and uneven.
“I’m just overwhelmed. I’ve been trying not to cry all week. Then the divorce decree came through, and you still weren’t waking up, and now you are…” I press my lips together, fighting another wave. “It’s too much. Too fast.”
He stares at me for a second, then his expression shifts into something dramatically wounded.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “We’re officially divorced?” His brows pull together. “That hurts, adorable. I… I think I need a hug.”
I blink at him and his audacity, ready to tear him a new one. This is not the moment for a stupid joke! But then I see the deliberate softness in his eyes, the way he’s trying to pull me back from the edge. So a reluctant laugh escapes me instead.
“You’re hooked up to half the hospital,” I tell him. “And your nurses are a different breed of spitfire. If I take a wire out, they’ll probably blow my head off.”
“I wouldn’t let them,” he mutters, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “In fact, they should approve of it. That hug might speed up my healing. I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere, so it has to be true.”
The humor fades. His gaze sharpens again.
“So… we’re officially divorced?”
“I need you to not make a big case out of it and just accept it,” I say firmly. “That’s one of my conditions if we’re going to move forward.”
He goes very still. Watching me like he’s testing my resolve. Then a slow breath leaves him, and his Adam’s apple bobs.
“Okay, I can do that,” he says slowly, his eyes holding mine. “What other conditions are there?”
I straighten in my chair, wiping the last of the tears from my face with the heel of my palm.
“Okay,” I declare, shifting into business mode before I can lose my nerve. “I only have three.”
His brows lift slightly, looking like he’s holding his breath.
“First,” I continue, “you need to accept that the divorce happened and I’ll never marry you again.”
His expression dims for a second. A flicker of sadness passes through his eyes, but he nods.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
The acceptance costs him something, I can see it.
“But,” I add quickly, “I still want the Ol’ Lady cut. If we make it to that point.” I shrug one shoulder. “It looks cool, and I want one.”
A slow smile curves his mouth. Even flat on his back, hooked up to machines, I can practically see the gears turning in his head — already picturing it, getting ahead of himself.
I lift a finger before he can speak.
“Second. You talk to me. Not just about the good stuff, but about the bad stuff too.”
His gaze locks in.