“Fine.” He nods, then presses a kiss between my brows. “This deal remains between us, then.”
“Um-hmm, just between us.”
The ICU room’s door opens, and as Dorran and I look towards it, we see our friends walking in, which instantly puts smiles on both of our faces.
Sometimes, a family isn’t one you’re born into, but one that youbuild– stone by fragile stone – until it becomes the very shelter that shields you against any and every storm life sends your way. And while I know myself to be strong, I don’t think I would have weathered the circumstances I’ve faced in the last two years if it weren’t for Dorran and the crew.
There’s strength in numbers, they say. But you know whatIthink? I think thatloveis the only, everlasting key to one’s fortitude.
So, hold those you care for close; tell them how much they mean to you, even if they aren’t bound to you by blood. Because at the end of the day, through love, everything is possible.
36.
“Dorran…”
I wake up with a jolt as soon as I hear her calling out my name. Pushing myself up into a seated position on the leather couch that’s placed next to the ICU room’s door, I rub the pads of my fingers over my eyes. “Cigs, you okay?”
“Dor?”
I stand and walk over to the bed, then gently squeeze her hand. “Hey, I’m here.”
She opens her eyes and squeezes my hand in return. The early morning light streaming into the room casts a muted shadow over her side profile, accentuating her radiant features even more.
It’s a comfort to hear her soft, even breaths, as well as the heart monitor beeping in complete sync with her chest.
“You need some water?” I ask her.
She shakes her head, moaning and grimacing as she does. “I’m good, thanks.” She’s quiet for a few seconds, and then, “Is Chris alright?” she questions.
I contemplate lying to her, but my brief pause quickly catches her attention.
“Dor,tell me,” she urges.
I sigh, taking a seat on her bedside chair. “He didn’t make it, Cigs,” I say honestly. “I’m pretty sure he passed away seconds after Heyman shot him.”
She closes her eyes, and at first, I think she has abruptly fallen asleep. But then I see a tear streaking down her closed eyelids before disappearing into her hairline.
“He didn’t deserve that,” Cignette whispers, then opens her eyes and looks up at me with furrowed brows. “He was a good man, Dor.”
“He hurt you, Cigs,” I remind her. “More than once, if I remember correctly.”
“Yes, he did. But everything he did, he did it because Fredrick and Heyman ordered him to,” she argues.
I scoff. “That’s no excuse to beat up someone who did nothing tohim.”
She gives me a long look, then makes to turn sideways in bed, but I stop her by gently placing a hand on her wrist.
“He thought we could save him, you know,” she tells me, then lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “He told me that he was tired of killing for Fred; sick of killing fornothing. He wanted his job to have a meaning, a–”
“A purpose,” I complete for her, then swallow against the sudden dryness in my throat.
“Exactly.” She gives me a faint smile as she shifts to lie on her back. “I know you operate with that very same protocol, which is why I wanted Chris to get out of Fred’s service. I thought maybe if not us, then perhaps Solo could help him.”
“I’m so sorry, Cigs,” I say, and mean it. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“Yeah, me too.” She sniffs as another tear slips down her temple. “I guess he saw hope in me – a speck of light or some shit.”
“Well, I can’t exactly blame him for that. Youaremylight and shit, after all.”
