Caleb picked his head up and looked over, seeing his brother on the floor. Without thinking twice, he went over and helped him up. Leading Devon to the chair he'd been sitting in, he instructed him to sit and stayed directly behind him with both hands on his shoulders as they bowed and fractured.
The door behind them opened with a soft click, and Caleb looked over to see his mother and his wife. Lori went to Caleb, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around him. He held on, needing to be given comfort instead of giving it. Lydia gasped as she gazed at Hailey and rushed to Devon's side. Chloe brought over another chair, and Lydia sank onto it as her legs turned to jelly.
"Oh, Devon," she whispered as she leaned her head on his shoulder. "Your father is in the hall speaking with the doctor. I was going to do it, but I just needed to see you and our girl."
He gripped the hand she offered and brought it to his cheek. "She looks awful."
"I know."
There was silence again, apart from the machines that pumped and whooshed. Devon heard sniffles around him but couldn't find the strength to guess who they belonged to. Maybe everyone.
The door opened again and Don came in, not taking his eyes off Hailey as he reached Lydia. "I've spoken with the doctor, and it seems it'll be a long time before she wakes up, Devon," he began as he moved closer. "She needs sleep to heal. The nurses will come in and bathe her after the police have assured them no more evidence can be collected."
"It's a broken arm, a concussion, and some other things," Lori said. "I forget."
"It's fine." There was no point pretending he nor anything else was fine, but the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. Devon stared down at his baby, her injuries burning into his memory. He wanted to touch her but fear stopped him. He was terrified he'd hurt her.
How would he ever leave her side again? How would he go about his life and let her go about hers? Assuming she healed physically, would she be damaged emotionally? Mentally? He knew he was. His soul was seared with permanent scars.
She was his heart, his entire reason for living, and someone tried to take her away from him. Hate festered, flaring in his gut and rising to the surface, but he pushed it down ruthlessly. He would wait. He would bide his time, focus on his daughter and her recovery.
But he would never truly rest until the motherfucker who was responsible paid with their life.
Chapter Eight
Time was a finickything. Some days it came down to living minute by minute while the very next day could hurtle along like an earthbound meteor. To Devon, it felt as if every second ticked by in the span of an hour. Each minute was a day; each hour a week. He had never wanted time to fly more than he did in those first days after they found Hailey. She slept and slept, no sound permeating the hospital room save for the soft noises from the machines. He constantly sat by her bed praying for her recovery, begging her to wake up and look at him. He longed to see her happy blue eyes looking at the world around her in awe the way she’d done since she was a baby.
Lori came to sit with him on the first day. His mother had cleared her from bed rest but still had to take it easy. She didn't speak, too ashamed of the thoughts in her head to put them out there where she couldn't take them back.
Devon spoke instead. “She looks so frail.” He kept his words hushed, as though they sat in a library.
“She’ll get stronger.” Lori wiped tears from her cheeks.
“It’s not your fault.”
There was a pause as she thought about what he said. She was having a hard time not taking on responsibility for what happened. “It’s scary that you know what I’m thinking.”
