61. Zara
ZARA
I open my eyes to find my cousin sitting in the chair next to my hospital bed. The same place she was sitting when I drifted to sleep. My parents were in the room earlier but must have stepped out while I was napping.
The smell of overly bleached sheets wafts in the air, the floral arrangements in the room softening the intensity.
Floral arrangements from my parents. From my family.
From my friends. The soothing clicking of Serena’s knitting needles and the whir of the AC are the only sounds in the room.
Reminding me that I’m safe. I no longer have to fear The Bear, or the men working for him, or Lola.
“So, Granny. When are you gonna make me a shawl?” I allow a small smile to flutter on my lips, my face and body aching less than they did two days ago.
It’s my soul, after learning Emily didn’t survive, that is in worse shape, bouncing back and forth between grief and relief, happiness, guilt, and frustration.
Grief at losing my friend. Happiness Peony is with her father.
Relief that she and I are safe. Guilt I couldn’t save Emily.
Frustration at how I’m stuck in NOLA for now, unable to be in Maple Ridge for her funeral. Unable to say goodbye to one of my closest friends.
And after everything I learned at the house where I was held prisoner and from the FBI, roiling beneath it all, like a smoldering pile of dry leaves in the depths of a forest, is anger. Anger that men like The Bear exist, preying on girls. Profiting off them. Mistreating and abusing them.
I tenderly nurture the anger, blow on the flames, keep them under control. Embrace them as a step forward in my healing from the tragic losses of Kenda and Emily.
Maybe one day I’ll do something with that anger. Put it to good use.
But for now, my goal is to get better and return home. To see Peony.
Serena stands and puts her knitting project on her chair. “Do you want me to raise the head of the bed some more?”
“Yes, please.” Breathing is easier when the head of the bed is upright.
It also helps that I’m not crying as much as I first did when the FBI told me about Em. I spent the first twenty-four hours sobbing, broken. But I know if I let myself fall too far down the well of grief, it will only make the spondyloarthritis symptoms worse, delaying my return home.
And Emily wouldn’t want that. She would want me to embrace the day, to appreciate the small things, to smile.
To heal and live my life to its fullest. That’s the very least I can do to honor the life, the friend, I lost.
Someone knocks on the door. “Come in,” Serena says, answering for me.
Samuel enters the room, his clothes disheveled, like he slept on the plane after a long shift at Maple Ridge hospital and came straight here from the airport.
“Hey, sis.” He walks to the bed and gently hugs me, taking care not to get tangled in my IV tubing.
“I just saw Mom and Dad downstairs. They’ll be up in a few minutes. How are you doing?”
“Alive. Recovering. Desperate to go home.” I flash him a pleading expression, as if that’s all it will take to make it happen.
“Sorry, can’t help you there. Wish I could.” He walks to the other side of the bed and hugs Serena. “I’m not the only one who hauled their ass here,” he tells me.
Jerome’s here as well?
But it’s not Jerome who walks in and sends my traitorous heart into a frenzied tailspin.
Garrett. He’s here. And the lines of exhaustion creasing the corners of his eyes are even deeper for him than they are for my brother. But that’s hardly surprising. His daughter was missing for four days. All things considered, he looks great.
Too great.
I can’t tear my eyes away from him.
Wait. What is he doing here? The last I heard, Peony flew home to be reunited with him. Maybe I’m imagining he’s standing in my hospital room, next to my bed. Smiling at me. Or maybe it’s a side effect of the anti-inflammatory meds the rheumatologist put me on.
I move my hand under the blanket and pinch myself. I barely notice the pressure, but it’s enough to prove to myself Garrett is here. The fact that I can smell the floral arrangements from friends and family and Garrett should also tell me I’m not imagining things or suffering from a delusion.
I keep staring at him, my body remembering how it felt when he touched me, how his talented fingers and tongue and other body parts made me fall apart in his arms. How he fell apart in mine.
The great way he smells. The warmth of his breath when he laughs against my neck.
How easy it is to talk to him. How I smile more when I’m with him than I do with anyone else.
How I feel like the best version of myself when he’s around.
Neither of us speaks. We just stare at each other, an odd tension vibrating the air molecules between us.
Someone clears their throat. Probably my brother.
I blink myself back to the hospital room. “Where’s Peony?”
“She’s at home with my mother.” The deep rumble of Garrett’s voice spreads over my body, slightly easing some of the pain. He really is here.
He nods at my cousin. “Hey, Serena.”
“Garrett.” Serena’s teasing grin doesn’t fool me, and I silently curse myself for telling her about the orgasm part of my previous treatment plan.
Garrett kisses my brow, and I almost swoon at his scent. “I was so scared when I found out you and Peony were missing.” He cups the non-injured side of my face and strokes my cheek with his thumb.
His familiar calloused skin feels deliciously warm against my face. I lean into his palm, inhaling him once more, indulging in the Garrett addiction I can’t seem to get away from.
“Maybe we should give the two lovebirds privacy,” Serena tells my brother. I’m not looking at her, but the smooth laughter in her tone hints at a wide grin on her face. “And make sure your parents don’t come in the room for say…um…ten or fifteen minutes.”
The length of time for Garrett to give me an orgasm.
She laughs again, the sound just short of a snicker. “ Psst .” She drops the volume of her voice to a conspiring whisper. “I think this is the part where he admits that he’s been an idiot. And maybe gives her some of that treatment he’s so gifted at.”
“What treatment?” A scratching-the-head tone wraps around Samuel’s question.
Serena pats my brother’s arm like he’s being silly and ushers him from the room.
“I was afraid I’d never get to tell you…
I love you, Zara,” Garrett says once the door shuts behind Samuel and Serena.
Garrett’s deep, rumbly voice should hit me in all the right places with the last part.
Should, but the reality of what he’s really saying sinks my heart, like a cinder block to water.
“I know.” My voice catches on itself. “You love me as a friend.” Always has and always will. Loves me as a friend but as nothing more than that.
He sits on the edge of my bed, next to my hip. “I don’t just love you as a friend, Golden Girl. I’m in love with you.” He’s looking at me like I’m the Northern Lights painting the sky in vibrant colors. The way I’ve wanted him to look at me for the longest time.
And it just makes my next words even harder to say.
“I love you, Garrett. More than you can imagine…but I can’t be with you. It wouldn’t be fair to you and Peony.” I swallow the building pain that has nothing to do with spondyloarthritis and everything to do with the chronic illness.
“What are you talking about? Peony loves you. And I love you.” His thumb caresses my cheek again, and my stomach does a silly little flip. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time. Since before Kenda and I ended up together. ”
I shake my head, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. I misheard him. That’s it. A potential side effect of the medications the hospital has me on. “No, you haven’t. You’ve always seen me as just a friend.” There’s no accusation in my tone—just me telling it the way it is.
He drops his head like I’m causing him pain.
“That’s not true.” His gaze meets mine. “I didn’t think you felt that way about me.
I should have been honest with you. I was just so afraid of losing you.
But what I felt for Kenda is nothing like what I feel for you, Zara.
You’re the only one I’ve ever truly loved. ”
I cover his hand with mine and pull it away from my face. He can’t be touching me if I’m going to get out what I have to say unscathed. “Have you finished your book yet?”
“My publisher and the movie production company extended the deadline. Because Peony was kidnapped. But what does that have to do with me being in love with you?” A crinkle forms between the dark slash of his eyebrows. A confused crinkle, not a celebratory one.
“That’s good. About the deadline.” It would be heartless of them to still expect the manuscript on time when Garrett was more worried about his daughter than the book.
I adjust my position on the bed, wincing at the pain hammering my body.
The emotional pain this conversation is costing me is not much better than the pain from the spondyolarthritis.
“But you shouldn’t be here. You should be in Maple Ridge with your daughter and attending Emily’s funeral.
” Grief cracks my voice at her name, and I sniff.
I close my eyes, fighting to regain my composure.
It hangs from a thin wire when I reopen them.
“But instead of being there, where you belong, where you’re needed, you’re here. ”
“I’m here because you’re here. You’re important to me, Zara.”