Chapter 2 #2
"Don't worry about my legs right now," I interrupt gently.
"But—"
"Valentina." I tilt her chin up with one hand, force her to meet my eyes. "I'm alive. You're alive. That's all that matters right now."
She breaks again, folding back into me, and I hold her while she cries. Behind her, I see Zay and Asher exchange a look—some silent communication I'm too focused on her to interpret—before they slip quietly out of the room.
The door clicks shut.
We're alone.
She cries for what feels like forever—deep, gasping sobs that shake her entire body. I hold her through it, one hand stroking her hair in slow, soothing motions, murmuring reassurances that I hope sound steadier than I feel. "I'm here. It's okay. I've got you."
When she finally pulls back, she wipes her face with my hoodie sleeve, leaving dark streaks of moisture on the gray fabric.
"I'm sorry," she says, voice raw and wrecked. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that—"
"Don't apologize," I say firmly. "You're allowed to cry. You're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling."
"I've been crying for three weeks," she admits, attempting a watery smile. "I think I'm out of tears."
"Apparently not," I say, brushing a strand of hair back from her damp face.
She lets out a laugh—real but shaky. Then her expression shifts. Something dark moves behind her eyes.
"What happened last night?" I ask quietly. "Zay said you went to the Vipers."
Her body tenses against mine. "I went to get Talia."
"And?"
"She's staying with them. By choice." She won't meet my eyes now, staring instead at a spot on my hospital gown. "I tried to talk her down but she's—she's made up her mind."
"Why would she choose them over us?" I press.
"Does it matter?" She pulls away slightly, and I let her even though every instinct screams to keep holding her. "She's gone. That's all."
It's not all. I can see it in the way she won't look at me, in the tension in her shoulders, in the way her hands are trembling against the blanket. Something else happened tonight. Something she's not telling me.
But Zay's words echo in my head. Go easy on her. Whatever questions you have can wait.
So I let it go. For now.
"Come here," I say, patting the space beside me on the hospital bed.
She hesitates. "Your chest—the surgery—I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," I lie. Everything hurts. Moving hurts. Breathing hurts. But I need her close more than I need to avoid pain.
She climbs onto the bed carefully, mindful of the tubes and wires connecting me to various machines. She fits herself against my side, head resting on my shoulder, one arm draped carefully across my chest.
Perfect. She fits perfectly, like she was made to be right here.
"I missed you," she whispers against my neck. "Every day. Every hour. I'd pray you'd wake up and—" Her voice breaks. "I was so scared you wouldn't."
"I'm stubborn," I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Takes more than a bullet to put me down."
She laughs—a real laugh this time, watery but genuine. Then her hand moves down, sliding over the blanket to rest on my thigh. The dead one. The one I can't feel.
"Does it hurt?" she asks quietly.
"No," I admit. "That's the problem. I don't feel anything."
Her fingers trace gentle patterns on my leg through the blanket, and I watch without feeling it. Disconnected. Like watching someone touch a stranger's body.
"The doctor said it might get better," she says carefully. "With therapy."
"Might. Also might not."
"Then we'll deal with it," she says with sudden fierceness, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me. "Whatever happens. We'll deal with it together."
"I might never walk again," I say bluntly, needing her to understand the reality.
"Then I'll learn to push a wheelchair really fast." She attempts a smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm scrappy. I'll figure it out."
Something in my chest loosens at her words. Not the pain—that's still there, will probably always be there—but the fear. The certainty that she'd leave the moment she realized I was broken.
I love you, I think, the words sitting heavy in my chest. I want to say them out loud, want to tell her before something else goes wrong, before I lose another chance. But the words stick in my throat. I've never been good at this—the vulnerable shit, the admitting how I feel part.
I reach up, brush a strand of hair back from her face. She leans into the touch, eyes closing briefly like she's memorizing the feeling.
"Stay," I say, not caring how desperate it sounds. "Tonight. Tomorrow. As long as they'll let you."
"I'm not going anywhere," she promises, but there's something in her eyes when she says it. Something dark and haunted that wasn't there three weeks ago. Something that tells me whatever happened at the Vipers changed her in ways I don't understand yet.
"What aren't you telling me?" I ask quietly.
She tenses against me. "Nothing."
"Val—"
"Xavier, please." She looks at me with those haunted eyes, and I see fear there. Real, bone-deep fear. "Can we just—can we just have this? Just for tonight? No questions. No club business. No Vipers. Just us."
I want to push. Want to demand answers. Want to know what put that look in her eyes. But she looks so fragile, so close to breaking, that I can't bring myself to do it.
"Okay," I agree softly. "Just us."
She settles back against my side with a shaky exhale. Her fingers trace absent patterns on my chest, and I close my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of her breathing ground me.
The door swings open without warning.
"Alright, alright, break it up," Zay says, his voice carrying that easy humor he uses to cut tension. "Hospital visiting hours don't include conjugal visits."
Valentina jerks up, face flushing. "We weren't—"
"Sure looked cozy from here," Asher adds, following Zay into the room with two cups of coffee and something that might be a sandwich. "Should we come back? Give you two some privacy?"
"Fuck off," I mutter, but there's no heat in it.
"He's awake for three hours and already telling us to fuck off," Zay says to Asher, grinning. "That's our fearless leader. Definitely still Xavier."
"Did you check the legs though?" Asher asks, deadpan. "Make sure they didn't swap his brain while they were in there?"
"I will throw this IV pole at you," I threaten.
"See? Definitely still him," Zay confirms, dropping into the chair beside the bed. "Grumpy, violent, and deeply ungrateful for our concern."
Valentina laughs—a real laugh, surprised and genuine. The sound makes something warm bloom in my chest. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear her laugh until this moment.
"You two are idiots," she says, but she's smiling now, some of the darkness clearing from her eyes.
"Yeah, but we're your idiots," Zay says, pointing at her with his coffee cup. "And speaking of which, when's the last time you ate something that wasn't from a vending machine?"
"I'm fine," she says automatically.
"That's not an answer," Asher says, holding out one of the sandwiches. "Eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"Didn't ask if you were hungry," he replies. "Asked you to eat."
She takes the sandwich with a sigh, and I watch as Asher hands me the other coffee. It's exactly how I like it—black, two sugars. The fact that he remembered something so small after three weeks makes my throat tight.
"So," Zay says, leaning back in his chair with exaggerated casualness. "Now that the emotional reunion is over, we should probably talk about the fact that the club thinks you're still unconscious and Valentina's been running things solo for three weeks."
"The club can wait until morning," I say firmly. "Right now I just want to know—"
"That everyone's still alive and the Vipers haven't burned us to the ground?" Zay finishes. "Yeah. We're good. Val kept everything together. Even Johnson and George backed down after she put them in their place."
"Johnson and George tried something?" I ask, looking at Valentina.
She shrugs, taking a bite of sandwich to avoid answering.
"They tried to stage a vote of no confidence," Asher explains. "Valentina shut it down in about thirty seconds. It was beautiful. Jackie said she's never seen grown men look so terrified."
"I wasn't that harsh," Valentina mumbles.
"You told Johnson you'd break his fingers if he questioned your authority again," Zay says. "In front of the entire council."
"He was being an asshole," she mutters.
I find myself grinning despite everything. "That's my girl."
She flushes at the praise, and Zay and Asher exchange knowing looks that I choose to ignore.
"Anyway," Zay continues, "the point is, everything's under control. You focus on getting better. We've got the rest."
"And Talia?" I ask, because I can't let it go entirely.
The mood in the room shifts instantly. Valentina goes still, sandwich halfway to her mouth. Asher and Zay's expressions shutter.
"We're working on it," Asher says carefully.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one we have right now," he replies, meeting my eyes steadily.
I want to push, but Valentina's hand finds mine under the blanket, squeezing once. A silent plea to let it go.
So I do.
"Fine," I say. "But we're talking about this tomorrow. All of it."
"Tomorrow," Zay agrees, standing and stretching. "Tonight, you rest. Doctor's orders. Which we're actually following for once because you look like death warmed over."
"You're a real charmer, you know that?" I say dryly.
"It's my best quality," he says with a grin. Then his expression softens. "It's good to have you back, X. Really good."
"Good to be back," I reply, meaning it.
Asher claps a hand on Zay's shoulder. "Come on. Let's give them some space before the nurses kick us all out anyway."
They head for the door, but Zay pauses at the threshold. "Val? You staying?"
"Yeah," she says quietly. "I'm staying."
"Good," he says. Then to me: "Take care of her, yeah? She's been through hell."
"I will," I promise.