“What’s your name?”
The nurse smiles in a way that, combined with her salt-and-pepper hair, reminds me of a grandmother. “Rose.”
A vicious stab slices through my gut. I stand and fight to breathe through what I’m about to do. “Do me a favor?” I pull a wad of twenties from my wallet, no clue how many, but enough. “Make sure she has a ride home when she’s discharged.” I pull out more cash. “And some clean, comfortable clothes.”
Rose fingers through the cash and tries to hand it back. “Sir, I can’t—”
I hold up my hand. “Please. She doesn’t have family and”—I clear my throat and swallow the burn of remorse—“I won’t be around.”
Her lips form a tight line, but she nods. “Okay.”
She’s not stupid. I’m sure she can sense the coward in me running away with my tail between my legs.
My gaze slides to Eve. She looks so peaceful now, not at all as she did minutes ago when the world was crumbling down around her. I lean in and place a soft kiss to her lips, mindful not to disturb her. God, I’m going to miss her.
“Thank you.” And without another thought, I turn from the room and pat the dirt on the shredded and now recovered emotions from my past.
She’ll realize after the drugs wear off that none of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for the decisions I made last night. Then she’ll hate me. Resent me. And we can both go back to being where we were when we started.
She has people in her life who will take care of her: people who care for her like I do, but won’t fuck her up like I will.
Like I already have.
*
Eve
Midnight and not a word from Cameron.
After waking up from my drug-induced nap, I expected to see him here. I expected to open my eyes to him scowling at me from the corner. I expected . . .
And ain’t that the shit that screws me over every time.
I blink heavy eyelids and know that although my body demands rest my mind is too busy for it. Instead, I study the long triangle of light that slices through the dark hospital room floor. The eerie silence with the occasional murmur of nurses from the hallway lulls me to self-inspection.
The accident was my fault. Guilt’s oppressive weight constricts my chest. Raven and the baby are alive, but they shouldn’t even be here. If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own life, my own pain, I never would’ve pushed so hard to take out the Nova.
The low grumble of a man’s voice, followed by the soft whisper of a woman’s, filters in from the hallway. I shove up on an elbow, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest.
Cameron?
His shadow drowns out the light as he trudges through the door and into my room. I fish around my blankets for the remote that turns on the light and grunt through the throbbing in my shoulder.
“You’re back.” Ah-ha! There it is. I click on the light to illuminate the towering fighter. “Oh, Jonah. Hey.” The hollow in my chest aches.
He doesn’t speak but crosses to a chair that sits near the window. He drops down and slouches into the seat, his forehead to his palm.
“What happened?” My breath freezes in my lungs. “Is it Sadie?”
He scrubs his face and sets tired eyes on me. “No, they’re good.”
I exhale a heavy breath that releases the tension in my muscles. “What’s going on?”
“Raven told me what happened.”
Stomach acid churns, and I clutch the hospital sheet to my chest. “Jonah, I—”
“Too late. What’s done is done.” He shakes his head and looks out the window to the city lights. “She knew. I told her every day how fucking scared I was at the thought of losing her or Sadie.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “How could she do this?”
“Jonah, no, it . . .” I swallow my panic and summon the courage to tell him the truth. “She wouldn’t.”
“But she did.”
“Because of me.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “She didn’t want to take the Nova. I talked her into it.”
His eyes slide to mine, and confusion works behind them. “Why would you do that?”
I fill my lungs with a steadying breath. “The chances of anything happening in that car were so slim. She knew you’d be upset, but she wanted that little taste of freedom again, just like I did.”
His tortured expression morphs into something terrifying. “I thought you said you didn’t remember.”
“I didn’t. And now I do.” I drop my chin, unable to hold his glare. “She didn’t want to go. I convinced her.”
Silence.
“I wouldn’t let up until she agreed.”
I give that a moment to sink in and wait for the onslaught of fury that I know is coming.
But it never does.