Chapter 20
TWENTY
ROOK
Pain wakes me first. My chest hurts with a kind of pain I've never felt before. Every breath feels wrong. My lungs burn and my throat is so dry it hurts to swallow. For a few seconds, I don’t know where the fuck I am. The beeping of machines and the smell of antiseptic hit me all at once. Hospital.
My eyes crack open slowly. Everything is blurry at first. I blink a few times until the room comes into focus. Dim lighting. White walls. Wires and tubes connected to me. My body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.
Then I see her. Scarlett is asleep in the chair right beside my bed, curled up like she’s been there for hours. Her head is resting on the edge of the mattress near my hip, one hand loosely holding mine. Her hair is a mess and there are dark circles under her eyes. She looks exhausted. Worn out.
Something tightens in my chest that has nothing to do with the bullet hole.
I don’t remember much after the shot. Just the sound of the gun going off and the fear that I hadn’t moved fast enough.
That I was too late. Waking up and seeing her sitting here alive, breathing, holding my hand, it’s a lot.
My throat feels like sandpaper when I try to speak. “Scarlett…” It comes out rough and barely there, but her eyes snap open instantly.
For a second she just stares at me, like she’s not sure if she’s dreaming. Then her face breaks. “Rook,” she whispers. She sits up fast, gripping my hand with both of hers. “Oh my God. You’re awake.”
I swallow, trying to get my voice to work. “How long?”
“Three days,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “They kept you sedated after surgery. Your lung was pretty messed up and they wanted the swelling to go down.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I thought… I kept thinking maybe you wouldn’t wake up.”
Three days. Fuck. I lost three days. I squeeze her hand as best I can. My grip is weak, but it’s something. “Are you hurt?”
She lets out a shaky laugh that sounds more like a sob. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who got shot.” She leans forward and presses her forehead to the back of my hand. “You scared the hell out of me. When you jumped in front of that gun… I thought that was it. I thought I was going to lose you.”
I close my eyes for a second, trying to push through the fog in my head.
I remember the basement and Cross’s voice.
The way he looked at her like she was already his to destroy.
The second I saw that gun swing toward her, everything else disappeared.
There was no thinking involved. “Would do it again,” I rasp.
She lifts her head and gives me a watery glare, but there’s too much relief in her eyes for it to stick.
I glance around the room again. “Your dad?”
“He’s been here a lot,” she says softly. “He just went to get coffee. He’ll be back soon.”
I nod, letting that sink in. My mind is still hazy, but I swear I remember hearing his voice while I was out. Or maybe I dreamed it. It’s hard to tell what’s real right now.
Scarlett must see something on my face because she squeezes my hand tighter. “He’s been different,” she says quietly. “Since that night. He sat with you. Talked to you sometimes when he thought I was asleep. I think almost losing you changed things.”
Before I can answer, the door opens. Piston walks in holding two cups of coffee. He stops dead when he sees me awake. For a second, something raw flashes across his face before he locks it down. “About fucking time,” he grunts, but his voice is rougher than usual.
He sets the coffees down and walks over to the other side of the bed. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at me like he’s making sure I’m actually here. Then he reaches out and rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You gave us a hell of a scare, kid.”
I meet his eyes. My voice is still fucked, but I force the words out anyway. “Heard you… while I was out.”
Piston’s jaw tightens. He glances at Scarlett, then back at me. For a long moment he doesn’t speak. When he does, his voice is quieter than I’ve ever heard it.
“Yeah,” he says. “Figured you might’ve.” He takes a slow breath, like the words are hard for him. “I meant it. You’ve been my son since the night I found you in that gas station. I was just too much of a stubborn asshole to say it out loud.”
Something shifts hard in my chest.
I’ve spent most of my life waiting for people to get tired of me. Waiting for the moment they’d realize I wasn’t worth the trouble. Piston taking me in when I was seventeen was the first time anyone ever gave a shit. But I always figured there was a limit. That one day he’d decide I’d taken enough.
Hearing him say it like this hits deeper than I know how to handle right now.
Piston squeezes my shoulder again. “Taking that bullet for my daughter didn’t make you family,” he says. “You already were. I love you, son.”
I don’t trust my voice, so I just nod. It’s all I can manage.
Piston clears his throat and steps back, clearly done with the heavy shit for now. “Doc’s gonna want to check you over now that you’re awake. I’ll go let them know.” He hesitates at the door and looks back at me. “Rest up, son.”
Then he’s gone. The room goes quiet again except for the machines. Scarlett leans down and kisses me, slow and careful, like she’s scared she’ll hurt me. “I love you,” she whispers against my lips. “So much it hurts sometimes.”
I lift my hand and brush my thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear she didn’t even seem to notice. “Love you too,” I rasp.
She curls carefully against my side, resting her head on the pillow next to mine. One of her hands stays laced with mine while the other rests lightly over my heart, like she needs to feel it beating.
I close my eyes, letting the pain meds start pulling me under again.