I feel his laughter in his chest. “I’ll take it, and I’ll take you. Right now. In my bed.” He reaches down and swats my behind.
I squeal and wriggle in his arms. “I’ll join you in bed, if you’ll join me somewhere else after.”
“Done,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me into the house.
* * *
There aretwo police officers posted outside Eric’s door when we arrive. They stand tall and serious, like sentries.
Before we left Connor’s house I called the police officer who gave me his card last night. He okayed my visit this morning, and said he’d let the men standing watch know to expect me.
Coming to a stop in front of them, I give them my name and they nod at me. One of them reaches for the door and opens it. Pausing, I glance at Connor.
“Do you want me in there with you?” He asks.
I consider it briefly, then shake my head.
“He’s cuffed to the bed, ma’am.”
I’m not sure which officer spoke, but I nod and say thank you in their general direction.
Squeezing Connor’s hand, I give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be out soon.” Then I take a deep breath and slip into Eric’s hospital room.
The door falls softly into the jamb behind me. I hover near the entrance, uncertain now that I’m here. He lays in the bed, looking a fraction of the angry man he was last night. His eyes are closed. His hair is still a mess. The bed sheets cover his lower half, so I can’t see what his leg looks like. As gunshot wounds go, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.
There was a terrifying moment when I thought it was Walt who’d been hit. There’d been blood, the two men pressed against eachother, and they fell together. When Eric rolled away, screaming, I saw the hole in his thigh, and the red that poured from it.
He opens his eyes when I take a step. Stares at me. Aside from blinking, he doesn’t move.
Memories of last night come to me. His indignation. His hatred. The feel of a gun pressed to my head. My hands begin to shake, and I look at his handcuffs.I am safe.
I take a few steps inside, grab the chair from the corner, and drag it closer. Sitting down, I cross my legs. Uncross my legs. Fidget, and clasp my hands on my lap.
“Elizabeth,” Eric says.
My head snaps up. I’ve never heard that voice from him. So…normal. He has only ever snarled my name.
“Hello, Eric.”
The inside of my cheek is captured by my teeth. I’m not sure what to say now that I’m here. In his presence, I feel frightened, and though I anticipated the feeling, the reality is different. I gaze out the window while he says nothing. The absence of sound is louder than if a marching band paraded through here.
He finally speaks. “Why are you here?”
My eyes meet his. I’m thinking a hundred things and nothing at all. So many words swirling around, and I need to choose the right ones. Are there any right words?
I take a deep breath, letting it slide from between my lips. Pushing all those words aside, I open my mouth and let my heart speak for me. “You failed Amy. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth, and maybe the truth is what you need to face.”
Over and over, his cheeks tug and fall back into place as emotions dart across his face.
I don’t stop. He’s a captive audience.
“Amy was likely battling postpartum depression, and perhaps you already know that. Perhaps you’ve hidden that truth from yourself so that you don’t have to be responsible for missing it.” I lean forward. “I want to make something very clear to you. Every day, I struggle with what happened. Life is not the same for me. And yes, I was a mostly worthless person before. My job was to help people party. Not very fulfilling. But I didn’t deserve what Amy did to my life that day. Nobody did.”
Tears roll freely. I can’t stop them, and I don’t even bother wiping them.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry from the deepest, rawest, barest part of my soul. You mourn your wife and child every day, but you’re not alone. I mourn them too. I wish they were back with you. I wish you weren’t so hurt. I wish you could handle your grief, because I don’t want to be stalked and threatened. I want you to stop.”
My breath is ragged, making catching it almost impossible. Eric’s eyes pour tears like mine, except he has no way to wipe them.
