“Don’t worry,” I assure him when he struggles to ask his questions. “It’s okay now.” I lean down and kiss him again; he’s no longer cold. I’m ridiculously pleased by this.
“Are we in the hospital?”
I smooth stray hairs sticking up around his head before cupping his face again. “Yes.” He’s alarmed once more, his hands trailing across my face and arms in his search to see if anything is wrong with me. Guilt, oh so much guilt, fills my gut. He thinks this is yet another instance when I was hurt, except ... this time it was him.
“I’m fine,” I assure him.
He tries to sit up, but I won’t let him. Lines form along his forehead as he tries to fit all the pieces together. And then ...
He does.
I know the exact moment memories surface, because all the confusion melts into recognition. “What ...” He swallows, frustrated at how hard the words are for him. So I head him off at the pass, pressing my fingers across his lips.
“I will tell you everything, but right now, all I care about is making sure you’re okay.”
He shakes his head; frustration darkening his eyes. “Tell ... me.” Now his hand is on my face, searching for any lingering traces of battle I might have.
It breaks my heart.
So, I tell him. I let him know I destroyed Karnach when I saw what was happening to him, and of how I was forcibly dragged out by Enlilkian. How I woke up in a strange house and eventually fought my way out. I try not to get into too much detail, as I want him to remain calm, but I don’t want to hide things from him, either. So I tell him everything except how I was responsible for his twin brother dying, because how does one say that? I hate keeping anything from him, but ... all I can do is let him know Kellan is next door and that he was hurt rescuing me.
I hate the misplaced guilt that shines in his eyes, like he’s somehow responsible for his brother being injured. So I do my best to assure him that Kellan is going to be okay, that his brother is just sleeping, exactly like he had been just minutes before. That Astrid has ensured he’s been carefully monitored, and Kate has been doing everything possible to make sure he’s fine.
And then, he says the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard Jonah Whitecomb say in my entire life. He says, “I’m sorry I failed you. Him.”
I have to close my eyes for a moment so I don’t outright bawl. “Listen to me.” My face lowers to his, so there is no way he can misunderstand my meaning or words. “You did not fail me. Not even the tiniest bit. I failed you.”
“Didn’t ... keep ... you safe.”
“Jonah—”
“Couldn’t ... even ...” He shakes his head, frustrated. Lets out a hard breath as his words struggle to come out. “He ... saved, not ... me.”
“Jonah, listen to me—”
A trembling finger points toward the doorway between the rooms. “He ... there! You ...” He grabs my face again. “So sorry, Chloe. Wish—”
No no no. He has nothing to be sorry for. I do. I’m the one who constantly put both him and his brother in harm’s way. “Jonah Whitecomb, I need you to hear what I’m saying, okay? Just hush and listen, please.”
His sigh hurts to hear, it’s so sad.
“You did not fail me. Or him. You stood by me when almost everyone else was too scared to fight back. You were there every step of the way. If anybody failed anyone here, it was me. I should have taken Enlilkian out the moment we saw him. Just ... lunged at him. Hell, I should have taken him out all the other times. Had I, none of this ... none of the people who got hurt or died would have suffered. This is on me, Jonah. Your brother is in there because of me.”
“No,” he whispers, hand on my cheek.
“When I thought you died ...” The thought, even now, is beyond agonizing. How do I let him know it was the worst feeling I’ve ever lived through? “I went crazy, Jonah. All I could think of was how I would do anything to have you back. And here you are. Here I am. Please ... let’s not allow blame or guilt own this moment.” Which is one of the biggest lies of all tonight, because here I am, drowning in it.
He tells me, “Okay,” even though I know he doesn’t mean it, before gently kissing me.
I call down to the desk and have Kate Blackthorn paged; I’m told she’s at home, so it will take a little bit for her to arrive. And then I call Astrid who finally went home to sleep in her own bed for the first night in over a week after I promised to watch over both boys. I put it on speakerphone, so Jonah can hear her, too. The phone rings a good five times before a groggy voice answers. “Hello?”
Only, it’s not Astrid. It’s Cameron.
I pull my phone away and check the screen. Did I misdial? But ... no. It clearly says Astrid Home.
What in the hell?
“Hello?”
I try so hard not to giggle. Are they having a, um, sleepover? I suddenly feel so twelve. “Um. Yes. Hi, Cameron.”
There’s a lengthy pause before, “Is everything okay? Are the boys okay? It’s ...”—shuffling noises sound in the background—“nearly two o’clock in the morning.”