Chapter 24 #2
Even as my heart pounds, I can’t miss the fuckin’ tribute. My sister’s face flashes in my mind—the reason I pay tribute in the first place and the leverage they hold.
I grit my teeth. I have time. I can get there, see what she’s doing, and still make the payment.
I hang up the phone, and a second later, my phone pings with a notification. It’s a location pin. Erin’s location.
I park a good distance away, enough that I can see her shadowy form and see that nobody’s out here to hurt her. But who is she going to see? Where is she going?
I watch her walk with purpose. I shut the door quietly and follow her.
Is she meeting an old high school friend? The words that have been whispered behind my back come to roost. Your wife’s been around.
No.
That was a fucking lie they knew would get under my skin.
But she’s texting someone, I know that for a fact.
She walks up a winding staircase. I follow. But she doesn’t take the left into the main hospital entrance. No, she heads somewhere else.
Is she sick? Is she hiding something from me?
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding in my chest. The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor burn my eyes, but I don’t slow down. I saw which way she went.
I round the corner and spot her through a window in a door. She’s standing beside a hospital bed, her hand covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking.
That… doesn’t look like…
What the hell?
I shove the door open, ready to—
And stop dead.
The person in the bed is a young woman. A girl, really. Maybe nineteen, twenty at most. And she looks vaguely familiar.
Is that her… sister?
Jesus Christ.
She’s pale as death, hooked up to more machines than I can count—an IV drip and beeping monitors. Her hair is thin, patchy, like it’s been falling out. She’s so small under those blankets that she barely makes a dent in the mattress. She’s asleep, or…
I feel vaguely sick. I’m a right fuckin’ arsehole.
Erin spins around at the sound of the door, her eyes red-rimmed and wet. When she sees me, her face crumples completely.
“Cavin,” she whispers, and it sounds like a broken thing. My heart. My goddamn heart. She reaches for me, and I envelop her on instinct, holding her as she breaks down and cries.
All that rage, all that jealousy, all that fuckin’ stupidity, drains out of me in a single breath.
“Erin.” I feel her whole body shaking with silent sobs.
I hold her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other wrapped around her waist. “I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, love.”
She cries harder, and I just hold her, letting her break apart in my arms because I can feel that she’s been holding this in for too long.
After a few minutes, she pulls back slightly, wiping at her face with shaking hands. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to—I just—I should’ve told you the whole truth.”
“Don’t,” I tell her firmly. “Don’t apologize.”
We’re not just apologizing for this, but for our stupid damn fight, and we both know it.
She takes a shuddering breath and looks back at the girl in the bed. The girl’s eyes are closed, her breathing shallow.
My chest tightens. “This is your sister.”
Erin’s voice cracks. “She’s sick, and she’s getting worse. Aplastic anemia—it’s rare. Her bone marrow’s fucked. She can’t make blood cells properly anymore.”
The words hit me like a fist to the gut.
“She was diagnosed two years ago,” Erin continues, her voice barely above a whisper. “We thought—we thought the treatment was working. But it came back, worse this time. The doctors say…” She can’t finish the sentence.
I pull her back against me, tucking her head under my chin. Over her shoulder, I look at Bridget. Really look at her. And I can see the resemblance. She has Erin’s nose. The same shape to her face, though it’s gaunt now, hollowed out by illness. She’d be a beauty, like her sister.
“That’s who you’ve been texting,” I say. It’s not a question.
Erin nods against my chest. “Her. And the doctors. And… sometimes I’m just checking her charts online. They give family access to the medical portal. I check it constantly. Looking for any changes, any updates, any—” Her voice breaks again. “Any hope.”
“Erin.” I tilt her face up to look at me, brushing away her tears with my thumbs.
“I should have told you the whole truth,” she whispers. “I just—” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I’ve been so scared, Cavin. I’m terrified I’m going to lose her.”
I pull her close again, and this time I press a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re not alone anymore,” I tell her. “You hear me? Whatever happens, you’re not facing this alone.”
She makes a small sound, something between a sob and a laugh. “You must think I’m such a mess.”
“I think you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” And I mean it. Carrying this weight, keeping it hidden, trying to be normal while her sister fights for her life—that takes a kind of strength I’m not sure I have.
Movement from the bed draws our attention. Bridget’s eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then land on us.
I’m not scared of fucking anything, but somehow, facing her sister and her illness has me shaking.
“Erin?” Her voice is barely a whisper, rough and weak.
Erin pulls away from me and goes to her sister’s side immediately, taking her hand. “I’m here, love. I’m right here.”
Bridget’s gaze shifts to me, confused and hazy. She blinks slowly, like she’s trying to focus. “You brought the husband?”
“Aye,” Erin says softly, glancing back at me. Her eyes are still wet, but there’s something else there now. Something like hope and definite pride. “You remember Cavin.”
“Mmm. You’re right, sis, he’s well fit,” Bridget mumbles with a lopsided smile, her eyes drifting closed again before opening. Erin giggles in spite of herself. I squeeze her hand. “You’re brave. Braver than me.” She’s clearly delirious, the fever or the meds making her thoughts scattered.
I step closer to the bed, keeping my movements slow and gentle. “Hello again, Bridget.”
Her eyes find me again, struggling to stay open. “You’re real big,” she says, almost childlike. “Erin said you were big. Like a… a mountain.”
Despite everything, I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. “Did she now?”
“Don’t listen to her,” Erin says quickly, her cheeks flushing. “She’s on a lot of medication.”
“Mountains are good,” Bridget continues, her voice fading. “Safe. You keep Erin safe?” Her eyes try to focus on me, and there’s something fierce there despite how weak she is.
“I will,” I tell her, and I mean it with everything I have. “I promise.”
“Good.” Bridget’s hand twitches in Erin’s grasp. “She deserves… deserves to be happy. Even if I’m…” She trails off, her eyes closing.
“Hey, none of that,” Erin says, her voice thick with tears. “You’re going to be fine. You’re going to get better.”
“Liar,” Bridget whispers, but she’s smiling slightly. “Love you though.”
“Love you too,” Erin chokes out.
I watch them together, and something in my chest cracks open. This is what Erin’s been carrying. This is the weight she’s been shouldering alone. While I was busy being jealous about her fuckin’ phone, she was watching her baby sister die.
Bridget drifts off again, her breathing evening out into sleep. Erin sits on the edge of the bed, holding her hand, reluctant to let go.
“She’s been like this for a few days now,” Erin whispers. “Some days she’s more lucid. Other days, she doesn’t even know where she is.”
I’m quiet for a moment, processing. “Your mam wasn’t honest with us.”
Erin stiffens under my hands. “I know. I’m sorry.” She sighs. “My mom has reasons for joining our family to yours, and I didn’t want you to think we were using you, or—”
“Erin.” I turn her to face me. “Before? We were using each other. But that doesn’t matter now because what we have has nothing to do with our families. I’m going to help because you’re my wife. Because Bridget is my family now too. You understand?”
Her eyes fill with fresh tears. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I cup her face in my hands. “Whatever she needs. Whatever you need. We’ll figure it out.”
She breaks down completely then, sobbing into my chest while I hold her. I let her cry it out, all the fear and stress and exhaustion she’s been holding in. My god, if this were one of my sisters—if Bronwyn or Kyla—I can’t complete the thought, but my throat is tight, and my eyes are blurry.
I let out a shuddering breath of my own.
Bridget’s my sister now.
Eventually, she calms, hiccupping slightly. “I need to stay a bit longer.”
“I know.” I check my watch.
Fuck.
Thirty-three minutes until the tribute.
I look at Erin—exhausted, heartbroken, finally trusting me with the truth. I look at Bridget, so small and fragile in that bed.
I walk over to the bed and tuck a blanket closer around Bridget. She looks up at me and smiles. “You’re sweet,” she says, before she turns her head back to the pillow and falls back asleep.
Erin snorts softly behind me. “She’s definitely delirious.”
I tug a lock of her blonde curls and shake my head at her, then sigh. I do have to go. I don’t want to but…
She’s my wife.
I make a decision then.
“I have somewhere I have to go.”
I hate the way her face crumples, squaring herself to face her sister’s situation alone, and nods.
And I make a decision, right then. It’s time to take the fucking risk.
“I want to tell you what this is, and why I need to go. Tonight… I’ll be home after midnight. And I’m going to tell you everything.”
She nods. “Okay. And I’ll… tell you everything too.”
I kiss her forehead fiercely. “Stay strong, love.” I hold her to me. “I love you.”