Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Mase
It’s funny how almost losing someone the way I did tonight is the quickest way to wipe the slate clean of any grievances. Suddenly, whatever they did wrong doesn’t seem to matter.
Since I found Jayne in a puddle of blood, I haven’t let myself think too deeply about Jacob. All my focus has been on her.
I suppose when I do finally dwell on it, the severity of the situation might hit me ten times worse.
Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce.
My knee hasn’t stopped fucking bouncing since I sat down in this uncomfortable plastic chair hours ago, and it’s driving me crazy.
Everything is, really, but especially the waiting.
Waiting to know she’s okay, waiting to see her, waiting for answers from both the doctors and from Jayne.
I was asked a number of questions earlier when we arrived, but unfortunately, I didn’t get any answers in return.
I scrub a hand down my face, squinting up at the bright lights.
Jesus, I feel like I’ve been tossed into a blender, where my emotions and thoughts are being mixed and thrown about in several directions.
I was so damn angry and upset with her earlier.
Now, I’m desperately trying to keep it together, hoping like hell that she’ll be okay.
Exhaustion has taken on a whole new meaning, yet my eyes remain open. Closing them only brings on the image of her body on the bathroom floor, covered in blood.
I shift in the seat, my leg continuing to bounce.
Surely, I would have been told if something bad had happened after we arrived, right?
My head jerks up when I hear someone approach, and my leg finally ceases bouncing.
An older woman with short black hair and thin-rimmed glasses eyes me before stepping closer. “Mase Turner?”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out dry and croaky, so I clear my throat and try again. “Yes.”
“Hi, I’m Dr. Sharpe.” She takes a seat on a nearby chair, adopting a kind yet professional demeanor. “I’m one of the psychiatric doctors here at the hospital. I just finished talking with Jennifer.”
Talking. She talked with her. That’s a good sign.
“Is she . . . is she okay?” I know she can’t tell me any details since I’m not family, but I need to know that, at least.
Dr. Sharpe’s face softens. “All I can tell you is that she appears stable right now. I understand you were the one who found her and called for help?”
I nod, trying not to relive those terrifying moments in my mind. Once is more than enough for a lifetime.
“Jennifer has indicated that she’s okay with you going in to see her, but I wanted to speak with you before you do.”
I run a hand through my mussed-up hair and shift in the chair again. I can only imagine how deranged I must look right now.
Crossing a leg, she continues, “Finding someone the way you did can be quite a traumatic and stressful experience, and you might be tempted to ask her questions about why she would do something like that. But it’s important to remember that that’s not what she needs right now.
Our focus is on her mental health, so the best thing is to remain positive, showing her friendship and love.
Be supportive. If you don’t think you can do that, then it would be best not to see her right now. ”
My heart pumps a little harder, and I wipe my clammy hands on my sweatpants. “No, I can do that.”
There’s no way I’m not going in there right now. I need to see her with my own eyes. I need to reset the last image of her in my mind. As much as I want to bombard her with questions, they can wait.
“Okay.” Dr. Sharpe looks at me for a beat, like she’s reading all my thoughts. “You know, it’s also common for some to feel like they’re to blame in these instances, so make sure you take care of yourself as well. Talk to someone if you need to. This wasn’t your fault.”
If only I could believe that.
Jayne was struggling before I came along, I know that. But I’m the one who pushed her over the edge into that darkness. This is my fault.
I drop my gaze to my hands. I washed them clean at some point, but there’s still blood on my jacket sleeve, and some on my pants. I feel sick every time I see it.
“I will, thanks,” I finally answer.
After she leaves me, I take a moment to pull myself together before I get up to follow the directions to Jayne’s room.
Now that it’s time to go in, I find myself hesitating, lingering on the other side of her door.
What am I even supposed to say to someone who just tried to end their life? Someone I love, no less.
What if I say the wrong thing?
After spinning my thoughts around for another minute, I suck it up and push through the door.
As soon as my eyes land on Jayne dressed in a hospital gown, sitting in bed, very much alive, relief and grief collide in my chest, choking out all words.
The solid front I just built crumbles in an instant.
Rushing to her bed, I climb onto it and grip her cheeks with my shaking hands, much like I did in her bathroom, just so I can look into her stormy gray eyes and reassure myself she’s really here.
My hands slide over her cheeks, her hair, her neck, her lips, everywhere, before settling back where they started.
Dark shadows occupy the space under her eyes, and her skin is still paler than usual, her hair a matted mess. But she’s here. She’s fucking here.
Jayne holds my gaze for only a moment before glancing away with tears in her eyes, her lips downturned. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come in here,” she says, her voice small. “I know you probably hate me now.”
My composure almost collapses. “Jesus, Jayne, I don’t . . . I don’t hate you. I’m so fucking happy you’re okay. I never wanted this. Never.” I bring her in close, breathing her in and kissing her forehead before pressing her head to my chest. “I was so scared,” I whisper, moisture blurring my eyes.
I keep wondering what would have happened if I went home instead of going to talk with her. My stomach lurches at the alternate possibility.
But then I remember the doctor’s words to stay positive and shut down those thoughts immediately.
“You’re okay. We’re okay.” I keep her close, my heart slowly settling with her head resting against it.
We stay like that for several minutes before she finally pulls back, and I reluctantly release her. “I asked them to let you in because I wanted to apologize to you.”
“You don’t need to apologize—”
“I do,” she quickly says, cutting off anything more I might say.
“I really do. I didn’t mean to put you through that, and I’m so, so sorry.
” She looks down at her bandaged arm and a few tears drip onto her hospital gown.
“I’m sorry you found me like that. I’m sorry I kept the truth from you.
I’m sorry I put your friend in prison. I’m sorry for everything. ” The last words come out choked.
“Shh.” I rub her leg, my heart feeling like it’s being strangled. “We’ll talk about all of that later, okay?”
She jerkily swipes a tear from her cheek, shaking her head. “They, um . . . strongly suggested that I voluntarily accept the help they’re offering.”
“What type of help?”
“There’s an in-patient program, and I’m being admitted.” She wipes away another tear like she wants them to stop. “I know this is something I need to do, but there will be no contact with anyone.”
As in, no contact with me.
The uncomfortable hospital bed creaks as I shift, and the lights inside her room suddenly seem too bright, too harsh. “How long?”
One of her shoulders lifts and drops. “A few weeks in-patient, and we’ll assess after that.”
I nod, my gaze falling to her hands while I take hold of them. “You’ll be gone for Christmas?”
“Yes.”
There’s a twinge in my chest, knowing she’ll be all alone for the holidays. Then I realize it’s probably nothing new for her, and the twinge turns into a violent twist.
My eyes trail from her hands to her wrist, looking over the cuts on her arms and the fresh bandages over her marred skin. She must notice, because her body flinches like she doesn’t want me to look.
After what happened tonight, I know this program will be for the best.
Her confession from earlier hasn’t disappeared—I haven’t forgotten what she did—it’s just taken a back seat for now while we deal with this.
Filling my lungs, I give her hands a squeeze. “I’ll be waiting.”
Jayne slowly pulls her hands free and inches back. But those inches don’t just feel like physical space; she’s creating an emotional distance as well. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”
My eyes fly back up to her face. “What do you mean?”
“I only ruin lives, Mase. And I don’t want to ruin yours.”
My stomach sinks and regret immediately crawls up my throat, making it difficult to swallow. I wish I could take back everything I said to her earlier, take back the way I reacted and listen instead.
I grasp for one of her hands again, needing to keep touching her. “No, Jayne. You’ve only made my life better. I’m so fucking sorry for saying that.”
“But you were right.”
“I wasn’t. Please don’t do this.” My heart thunders, feeling like it’s trying to jump out of my chest to reach her, but she’s too far away.
“You need more than a broken shell of a woman.”
I shake my head, desperate for her to hear me. “No, don’t you see? Our broken pieces fit together, filling in all the missing parts.”
Her voice is a watery sob. “I need to make things right, Mase. With everyone. Including Jacob. And I need to do that before I work on any relationship.”
I yank her hand to my chest. “You can do all of that with me by your side. I can help you, Jayne.”
Her eyes fall shut with more tears, more pain. “No.”
That simple word stabs me right in the heart, making it bleed.
“You’re always helping others, Mase. Always putting everyone else first. Maybe it’s time for you to help yourself.”
“I don’t need to help myself.” Why isn’t she fucking listening?
I watch her throat bob as she continues poking the knife in and out.
“You told me yourself, you have the need to make up for your existence. That’s not right, Mase.
Maybe you need to do some soul searching to make sure all of this isn’t you overcompensating, because you don’t feel like you’re meant to be here. ”
All my words vanish, the argument dying on my tongue.
Her eyes open, pools of liquid filling them. “I care about you. I do. But we need to do these things without each other.”
I stare at her, my chest still bleeding out while she does nothing to stop it.
Every breath is tight. My fingers feel numb, making it so I can’t even feel her hand between mine.
My mind latches onto another scenario, one it was refusing to acknowledge until now. “But what if . . .” I look at her gown, her arms, the bed. What if this happens again?
She must see the question written in my eyes because she shakes her head, laying her free hand on my thigh. “I’m not going to do this again. I promise.”
There’s a plea on her face for me to understand, to accept what she’s saying.
Be supportive.
I want to, but why does supporting her have to mean letting her go? Why do I want to fight against it?
Because she’s leaving me, and I’ll be alone once again.
I thought I almost lost her tonight, but it turns out, I still am.
Returning her hand to her lap, I lift the other off my thigh to join it and shift off the bed. Then I try constructing a makeshift wall across the wound on my soul, just so it doesn’t fucking hurt so much. Maybe shutting down would be better.
“Okay,” I croak. “I understand.”
Jayne’s eyes widen like she’s just now realizing what she’s doing, a flash of alarm on her face at what this means for us. “It doesn’t have to be permanent,” she rushes to say, swiping at another tear.
I nod, keeping my focus down and off her sad face. There has been way too much going on tonight, and I feel myself on the verge of crumpling. “I should go.”
I make a move to leave, my body already turned toward the door, but this time, it’s Jayne who reaches out to grab my hand. “Wait.”
I glance at her over my shoulder, and the moment she sees my face, hers collapses. “God, Mase.” Using my hand, she pulls me back into her, and I’m fucking helpless to resist.
Biting down on my molars, I fight against the burning in my eyes and nose, as she holds my face to her neck, her arms banded tight around me. This is where I belong. I know it is.
But I also know that she’s right, and she needs to be the one to fix herself. I can’t do it for her.
“This doesn’t have to be forever,” she repeats. “I just need time.”
Seconds pass as I inhale her into my lungs, into my soul, then finally, I pull back and get to my feet.
Before I can turn away again, she reaches for something under her pillow and pulls out a folded paper.
Holding it out to me, she exhales. “This letter explains everything from the beginning. Why I believed it was Jacob, and why I didn’t go forward when I found out. I need you to know it all.” I hear her swallow. “And also, who really attacked me . . .”
I take it, my clammy hands gripping the paper like it contains a bomb.
After pocketing it, I meet her gaze, resolution hardening my features. “I will give you time. But make no mistake, I’m not giving up on you. And I will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”
Then I turn around and walk out the door.