“But you didn’t see—”
“I didn’t need to. You are both fighters and you foughtfor one another. You would have given up much sooner if you hadn’t been aware of him so close by, and he wouldn’t have been able to wait for the boys to show up if he hadn’t had to fight for you.”
She was right. No matter what angle I tried to approach it from, it was partly knowing that Drew was in that room fighting for his life that had given me the strength to go against my natural inclination to ball up and wait for the storm to pass. He was the reason I had defied death and taken the hits. He would always be the reason I fought. I would never give up on him or us, and even though I had been certain before, I knew he wouldn’t, either.
As the words settled, I pushed my cheek into her hand and used my elbows to push up from the mattress. I needed to be with him. I needed to see him with my own two eyes and touch him. Being apart from him was more painful than every wound I’d sustained balled together. The last interaction we’d had was so vague, and I needed him to know I was alright and strong enough to face another day by his side. I also needed him to understand how essential he was in my life—how, in a few short months, he’d become one of the reasons I woke up every morning and smiled, and why I took every breath.
I also needed him to understand that no matter how many people tested the bonds of our relationship and our family, I would be by his side, my hand in his, giving my strength and support in any way he needed it.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to do much moving. I’d barely pushed to my aching knees when I heard his deep, gruff voice throwing orders out and yelling at the doctor to leave him the hell alone. The sound of it brought a smile to my lips regardless of the throbbing that gripped me from headto toe. I knew beyond reasonable doubt that if he could be that pissy, he would be fine in time. Even as frustrated as he was, the familiar sound of his voice wrapped around me like a warm, comforting blanket, sending the wings of a thousand butterflies to fill my stomach as I waited to see those beautiful and unusual eyes of his. Even with the shit life had thrown at us in the last however many hours, we’d lived through Hell. I knew the moment I met those eyes and saw the love there it wouldn’t matter anymore. We’d survived it and what hadn’t broken us entirely could only make us stronger.
The rattle of the door handle had me dropping to my hip, my legs a tangle at my side as Autumn leaped forward to stop me from falling face first off the bed, quickly settling me as the door practically stepped out of the way.
Whatever I’d been expecting was mild in comparison to his reality. The man I knew was hidden behind swollen, mottled skin that was still in the process of changing color. Dark, dried blood clung to freshly tended wounds, and even as the determination shone through his one half-open eye, I could see how much effort it had taken to walk down that hall. He was limping with one arm wrapped around his ribs. Yes, he was alive, but from the looks of him, it had been a close call—something I didn’t want to think about too much as we held each other’s gaze.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Drew
Ididn’t hang around to spend time analyzing what I saw. The moment she came into view, there was only one thing that held my attention, and it was the same thing that always had: the blue of her eyes. They were staring back at me with a look I couldn’t read properly, but I’m pretty sure it must have mirrored the shit on my own face. Relief. Disbelief. Anger. Sadness. But more than anything, the heavy stuff—the stuff that got me through the last however many hours of absolute torture. The love stuff.
Doc didn’t speak once I’d opened the door to her room. I wasn’t even aware of where he was anymore as I pushed the wood into the frame behind me and made my way over to her, trying my hardest not to show the agony that stormed its way through my entire body with every step I took.
As soon as I saw the epic fuck up of her back, I crouched down beside the bed and reached out for her one good hand as carefully as I could. There wasn’t anything I wanted to do other than pick her up in my arms and hold her to me, just so I could feel her and know she was still alive and still real. But neither one of us were capable of doing what we really wanted to do.
I eventually looked up and stared into her eyes.
Curling my fingers around hers and ignoring the splintering pain through every knuckle, I found myself swallowing as the emotion and relief threatened to take over. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to her hand over and over again and pulled in a breath through my nostrils.
“Look at you,” I whispered, closing my eyes to compose myself before staring up at her again. “No words will ever be able to tell you how sorry I am, Ayda. Please, don’t…”
I stopped, not wanting to beg her not to leave me after all this, but needing her to know how fucking sorry I was.
The palm of her hand was so close to my lips, she trailed her fingers over them and down through my beard as she took in every cut and bruise that was there. “You didn’t do anything you need to apologize for.”
The tear tracks on her cheeks looked like a permanent tattoo of the torture she’d been put through, yet there she was comforting me.
Breathing out, I tore one hand away from hers and lifted it to her face. I wanted to trace every mark on her skin just to remind myself that what I’d just done to Cortez was the only option I’d had. I wanted her wounds to burn me, just to remind myself that letting her go from that warehouse in the arms of someone other than myself was the only thing I could have done, because I had to be the one to make sure he paid the highest price.
I had to be the one to spill his blood, own his last breath.
The marks her body wore were my validation.
Letting my bust up hand fall to the side of her face, I pushed my fingers through her hair and brushed my thumb over the apple of her cheek.
“I have so many things to apologize for. The main onebeing that for the last few weeks, all I’ve done is break all my promises to you over and over again. I vowed to keep you safe and I didn’t. Tonight—last night—whatever day we’re on now, I don’t know and I don’t care, but it was the worst night in the club’s history beside—” I cut myself off, knowing his name was on the tip of my tongue. “Besides the night Pete died. I’m sorry you were a part of that because of me, just like he was.”
Ayda looked up, the shuffling of someone slipping from the room the only indication that Deeks’ woman had been there at all. The moment the door clicked closed, she shifted slowly, trying to hide the wince as she slid her bruised legs to either side of me and shuffled to the edge of the mattress. “You haven’t broken a promise to me, Drew. Okay, I’m a little beat up, but I’m alive, and so are you. That is all that’s important right now. That’s the only thing either of us needs to focus on. This isn’t your fault. Up until we saw that kid, it was one of the best nights of my life.”
I stayed down, my hands on her as much as they could be without causing her pain.
“Don’t do that,” I said softly.
“Do what?” she whispered, meeting my eyes.
“Panic,” I answered, rising up until my face was level with hers so she could see the absolute certainty of what I was about to say. “I’m not going to push you away again, Ayda. This isn’t me telling you your life would be better off without me. I realized a lot of things in that room, and one of them was the irony of that stupid fucking quote that tells everyone that if you truly love someone you should set them free. I don’t believe that anymore. I don’t even know if I believed it in the first place. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. We belong together and I know that now more than ever before. Iwon’t lose you. Not now, not ever. Where you go, I go.”
When her lips began to tremble, I was sure she was about to cry, but she surprised me as they formed into a smile.
