Chapter 19 #3
I lean down closer to him, my forehead almost touching his as I keep pressing on the wound with everything I have.
“You’re not allowed to leave me,” I whisper fiercely, my voice shaking.
“You hear me? You don’t get to save me and then die.
That’s not how this works. We have a life to live.
You’re supposed to marry me and drive me crazy and piss my dad off for the next fifty years. You don’t get to stop now.”
Dad’s hand comes down on the back of my neck, firm but steady. “Keep talking to him,” he tells me, voice tight. “He’s fighting. Let him hear you.”
I nod, tears streaming down my face, and keep my hands pressed hard over Rook’s chest as the world spins around us.
“Rook don’t you dare leave me,” I whisper to him, even though I don’t know if he can still hear me.
“I need you here. I need you with me. So you fight, Rook. You fight for me. Fight for us.”
His hand twitches against my arm like he’s trying to hold on. And I refuse to let him go. I stay on the floor with Rook until the paramedics arrive.
They have to physically pull me off him so they can work. I fight them at first until Dad’s arms wrap around me from behind. “Let them do their job, baby girl,” he says against my hair. “They’re trying to save him.”
I watch through blurry eyes as they load Rook onto a stretcher and rush him toward the ambulance. Dad doesn’t let go of me the entire time.
“I’m riding with him,” I say.
The paramedic takes one look at Dad and just nods. “Alright. Let’s go.”
The ride to the hospital is a blur of sirens and the steady beep of the heart monitor. I sit beside the stretcher the whole way, gripping Rook’s hand like I can keep him here through sheer force of will.
When we finally reach the hospital, they take him straight back. Dad has to hold me in the waiting room to keep me from following. Mom shows up not long after, and the three of us sit in silence, staring at the double doors like we can will them to open with good news.
Hours later, a surgeon finally comes out. “He’s out of surgery,” he tells us. “We stopped the bleeding and repaired the damage. He’s critical, but stable for now. You can see him soon. One at a time.”
Dad looks at me. “Go.”
I don’t argue, I just go. The ICU room is dim and cold. Machines beep and hiss around Rook’s bed. He’s pale, intubated, and covered in bandages. I walk straight to his side and take his hand, careful of the IVs.
“Hey,” I whisper. “You made it. You stubborn, stupid, perfect man. You made it.”
I sit in the chair beside his bed and rest my forehead against the back of his hand, talking to him even though I know he can’t hear me. I tell him I love him and that he’s not allowed to leave me.
At some point, the door opens behind me.
I don’t have to look to know it’s Dad. He walks over and stands on the other side of the bed, staring down at Rook.
For a long time, he doesn’t say anything.
Then he reaches out and rests a heavy hand on Rook’s shoulder.
“You did good, kid,” he says quietly. “Real good. You protected my daughter when it mattered most.”
Dad stays quiet for a long moment, just looking down at Rook. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. “You were never just some stray I brought home,” he says. “You’ve been my son since the night I found you in that gas station. I was just too much of an asshole to say it out loud.”
A single tear slips down Dad’s cheek. He doesn’t wipe it away.
He just stands there, staring at Rook like the words finally broke something open inside him.
I watch as his jaw tightens, like he’s trying to hold the rest of it back.
When he speaks again, his voice is quieter.
Thicker. “I should’ve said it sooner,” Dad continues.
“Should’ve trusted you with her from the beginning.
You didn’t have to take a bullet to prove anything to me.
You already had my respect. You already had this family.
I was just too pissed off and scared to admit it. ”
He looks across the bed at me. His eyes are red, but steady. “You picked a good one, Scarlett. Even when I was too stubborn to see it.”
I can’t speak. I just nod, fresh tears slipping down my face as I hold Rook’s hand tighter.
Dad stays there a little longer, standing guard on the other side of the bed like he’s daring anything else to try and take Rook from us. Then he leans down and presses a rough kiss to the top of my head. “I’ll be right outside,” he says quietly. “Take your time with him.”
After he leaves, the room feels quieter.
I climb carefully onto the edge of the bed and curl up beside Rook, resting my head on the pillow next to his.
I keep one hand laced with his and the other gently resting over his heart.
“You heard him, right?” I whisper against his ear.
“He finally said it. You’ve always been his son. ”
I press a soft kiss to his temple. “So you have to wake up. You hear me? You have to come back to us.”
The machines keep their steady rhythm around us as I stay right there, refusing to let go of his hand.