Chapter 38
CHAPTER 38
MEYER
Chaos reigns in the aftermath of Felix’s arrest. Jackson’s blood is all over my hands, and I want nothing more than to wash it off. Wash this whole day away. Sink into that clawfoot tub in his room at the inn and forget about everything .
I take a few steps back from the ambulance, sucking in a deep breath. After forcing Jackson to get assessed by the paramedics that just arrived on the scene, I need a little space.
My head is spinning. In the span of an hour, I not only found out who my birth parents are, but I also had to talk my father down from shooting the man that I love.
Talk about daddy issues.
For now, I try to stuff those thoughts in a box and store it in the back of my mind. I don’t want to think about him .
Leaning against the outer wall of the flower shop, I close my eyes and pretend my hands don’t feel tacky from the blood. I really should find a way to get that off.
When my eyes open, I spot Ilsa wrapping up her conversation with a uniformed police constable. When they part ways, she turns and locks gazes with me, and then she tentatively makes her way toward me. She has a water bottle and a towel in hand, and she offers them both to me.
“Hi,” she says quietly.
I take the items gratefully and begin to clean my palms as best as I can. A scalding shower is in my future, one where I can scrub at my skin until it’s left raw, but this is better than nothing right now.
“Hi,” I reply.
Once I’ve done what I can, I rub a hand against my arm, goosebumps trailing my flesh even though the summer heat is still bearing down. This is awkward , and I don’t want it to be.
“I am so sorry, Meyer. I didn’t know Felix was in town until just yesterday. If I had known, I…” She looks down at her feet. “I would have done things a lot differently.”
I place a hand on her arm, the need to comfort instinctual. “It’s not your fault, what he did.” I swallow thickly as my next words lodge in my throat. Maybe it’s not the time, but I can’t help myself. “What he said… Is it true? Are you my mother?”
Ilsa shakes her head. “Beatrice is your mother,” she corrects. “But I did give birth to you. When I was sixteen.”
“I don’t think there’s such a thing as having too many mothers,” I argue. “Besides, she’s all the way in Calderville, so right now, I think I could maybe use a hug from my other mom. If you wouldn’t mind.”
We have a lot to discuss, there’s no denying that, but I do really need a hug. I can’t pick apart all of my feelings on the matter right now, but I’m feeling unmoored and I need a steady presence to keep me grounded.
Ilsa’s resolve crumples. She winds her arms around me and holds me tight. Smoothing my hair back from my face, she begins to sway, and I imagine this is what it would have felt like for her to hold me as a child. At that thought, I let the tears fall freely, for all that we missed out on together.
“Schatzi,” she whispers.
I pull my head back. “Excuse me?”
She places her hands on my upper arms. The smile she offers me is watery. “Schatzi,” she says, clearer. “It’s German. It means my little treasure.”
“Little treasure…” I trail off as my thoughts try to organize themselves. “That’s the name of your flower shop.”
She nods, a soft smile gracing her lips. “It’s because of you that little Ilsa’s dream became a reality. Even though you would never know it, I wanted to make you proud, Meyer. I wanted to show you that you could have whatever you set your mind to.”
Too much. This day has been entirely too much. Both good and bad, a dizzying combination that leaves me spinning. It feels like it will take years to process everything properly.
“Gah,” I exclaim, “is this normal?”
“Is what normal?”
“For my heart to feel like it’s being squeezed inside my chest.”
She laughs. “I don’t know about normal, but I can tell you that I feel the same way.” Her eyes turn somber, and my heart begins to ache. “I’m so relieved you’re okay. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t. You and Jackson.”
“I’m relieved you’re okay. I—” I break off, my mind running a thousand kilometres an hour. There’s so many things I want to say, to fit into these fleeting moments we have. “I’m just relieved.”
“You probably have a lot of questions. We?—“
“Meyer?” one of the paramedics says.
I look over my shoulder, then turn back to Ilsa, conflicted. I want to keep talking, to learn everything there is to know about her, but this other part of me is tugging in Jackson’s direction.
“Go,” she urges. She pulls her hands back and clasps them in front of her. “Please tell Jackson I’m sorry he was hurt because of me. This never should have happened.”
“It shouldn’t have, but it’s not your fault.” I go to walk away, but then I think better of it. Quickly, I step forward and wrap my arms around her again. “Sorry. I decided I wasn’t ready to let go just yet.”
Ilsa presses her temple to mine. “You never have to be sorry about that.”
“Okay, I’m really going now! I’ll come see you in a couple days. We can talk.”
This time, her smile is familiar. Warm. “I’d like that.”
I offer her a parting wave, and then I walk over to the ambulance. Jackson is sitting on the back, an ice pack held to his head. He looks a little worse for wear, but he’s whole. That’s the only thing that matters to me in this moment.
“What’s the verdict?” I ask. “Did the blow to the head manage to knock all the smugness out or what? ”
Jackson glowers, but Gina, a woman I went to high school with, laughs. “All in all, your boyfriend is pretty lucky,” she says.
Lucky because he was this close to getting more than just a flesh wound. That sick feeling from earlier comes back.
“His arm has been bandaged up. That wound is superficial. And there doesn’t seem to be signs of a concussion, but I’d like you to keep an eye on him tonight just in case. Extreme headache or dizziness, that sort of thing, you should head to the hospital.”
I take Jackson’s face in my hands and inspect the bandage plastered to his hairline. “Will this scar?” I ask Gina. “His face is his most redeeming quality.”
The hand resting on my lower back skates down and pinches my ass. “And here I thought you loved me for my personality,” he says with a pout.
I roll my eyes, but the relief that sweeps through me nearly knocks me over. The fact that he’s teasing right now means that he’s alright. That Felix didn’t succeed in taking him from me.
Turning back to the paramedic, I say, “He has a wonky heart, too. Did you check that?”
Jackson sighs from beside me. “She did, and it’s fine .”
“I think I’d like to hear it from the medical professional, thanks.”
Gina tries to hide her laugh. “I listened to his heart and it sounds perfectly fine, all things considered.”
I nod. “Thank you. I promise I’ll take good care of him tonight. ”
She smiles. “Good to see you, Meyer, though I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Jackson stands from the ambulance’s bumper, and we let Gina and her partner pack up their rig.
I take Jackson’s face in my hands again. I search his eyes, checking for the millionth time that he’s alright.
“How are you not freaking out right now?” I ask. “Because I’m kind of freaking out.”
He shrugs. “Must be the head injury.”
I frown, not finding it all that funny anymore. “That was really fucked up," I say quietly. “He could’ve really hurt you or Ilsa. He could’ve?—”
“But he didn’t.” Jackson tucks me against him, his chin resting on top of my head. “You and Ilsa did good. I’m okay.”
I press my ear to his chest, listening to the steady pumping of his heart. To double check. For a guy who was held hostage earlier today, his heart is beating at a relatively normal pace.
“You’re okay.”
I take a few moments to soak him in, his comforting presence, and then I pull back. Now, he reaches out and cups my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin.
“Meyer?”
“Yeah?” I whisper.
When he smiles, the sight nearly takes my breath away. “I love you, too,” he says.
“You promise?”
The weight of the day is heavy, but having Jackson here to lessen the load makes even the bleakest moments feel surmountable .
He nods. “Cross my heart. Now let’s go home, baby.”
I take his hand. “Alright, Hotshot, let’s go home.”