I peek up to see Jonah’s eyes pointed back out the window. “Jonah, I’m sorry. If I could take it back, I—”
“The worst day of my life was the day we got the call that my dad wasn’t coming home. I remember being sad, really fucking sad.” He blinks and turns toward me. “But what I remember the most is being scared, fucking terrified, because for the first time in my life, I saw the agony in my mom’s face. I remember thinking the pain would rip right through her flesh. She screamed, beat the walls, and crawled like a dying animal as the pain shredded her. I . . .” He leans forward and cradles his head in his hands. “I just want her safe. I need her to be safe. Always.”
The sting of fresh tears in my wounds blares its agreement. “Me too. I can’t take back what happened, and I understand if you can’t forgive me.” I sag deeper into the bed. “I can’t forgive myself.”
“You want to blame yourself, I get that. But Raven knew better. Anyway, what’s done is done.” He pushes up from his chair and heads for the door, stopping just before the privacy curtain. “I’m not happy about any of this, but it doesn’t change anything. We’re family.” He doesn’t look up but continues out of the room.
I cough on a sob as it makes its way up my throat. How can he say that after all I’ve done? The only explanation is it hasn’t sunk in. Surely once he realizes I almost ripped his wife and daughter from his life, he’ll forbid Raven from having anything to do with me.
He can’t possibly care enough to see past my offense.
Can he?
Thirty-Five
Eve
“You have all your shit ready to go?”
My skin crawls, and I want to turn around and choke Mason with my old IV tubing. “I don’t have shit, Mase. All I have is what I have on.”
It isn’t even mine. My nurse, Rose, brought me a Target bag filled with yoga pants, tank top, flip flops and a couple different sports bras. I should’ve been a little creeped out that there were even panties in the bag and strangely they were my size, but I’m too angry to be creeped. I just want the fuck out of here.
It’s only been thirty-six hours, but every hour I’ve had to endure after waking up to no Cameron has been a whirling-fucking-dervish of emotional upheaval. He hasn’t stopped by again, called, nothing. I’d call him, but my phone was snagged by that piece of shit that showed up at my house last night.
I grip my discharge papers to my chest. “I’m ready.”
He nods to the wheelchair. “The orderly will be here in any minute to wheel you down. Get in.”
“No way.”
“Come on, Eve.” Mason’s pale blue eyes are set on mine. “It’s hospital protocol. You have to.” He’s trying to be cool, but there’s a hint of that anger I saw the last time we were together that still lurks behind his eyes.
I groan and drop into the stupid thing. “Fine. This is stupid. I’m not a cripple for cryin’ out loud.”
“Damn, you’re a regular Disney Princess. Now put your feet on the foot things.”
I do what he says but make sure to slam my feet in so he knows I’m not at all happy about his sarcastic humor or having him push me around in this grown-up stroller.
As much as I appreciate Jonah working out a ride for me, after my last visit with Mase at The Blackout, I think I’d rather walk.
Where the hell is Cameron and why does it feel as if I’ve been cast aside? I thought after our talk things were better. I mean I know shit got ugly when I remembered the accident, but he was so sweet and considerate. What made him change his mind?
This guessing game I’ve been playing with men—“Does he like me? As in, like-like me?”—is getting so fucking old. Why can’t a guy just be upfront? Say what he means and mean what he says?
My inner asexual roars her return. Men can go to hell. All of ’em.
A guy wearing scrubs shows up and pushes me down the hall, and I give a small wave to the nurse’s station as we pass. Once inside the elevator, Mason rests his hand on my shoulder, and I swear if I were a dog I’d turn around and bite him.
“You hungry?” He slides his fingers behind my neck and massages the tense muscles there.
Even that kind act on his part only manages to piss off my inner-bitch even more. All I need is an invitation and I’m going to lose it. “Like you care.”
He tips his chin to look down at me. “What the fuck is up with you?”
Invitation received.