The tear has a flap now. That’s how the doctor said it. A flap trapping blood, starving parts of my heart of what it needs, turning the whole thing into a ticking problem. They have to go in through my groin with a stent. My groin. All the way up to my heart. I keep picturing it like a wire threading through me, a foreign thing traveling under my skin, and my stomach rolls hard enough that the smell of the food makes my throat tighten.
One tear escapes and rolls down my cheek as I try to concentrate on not freaking out. Gone is my desire to go to work, to get out of this stupid hospital gown, to tell Jax to put me on the ground floor.
I’m. Terrified.
But not for me. For Nix.
All I’ve been trying to do is protect her, but I’ve only made it worse. Shejusttold me that I can’t leave her alone, and here I am… with a flappy heart scheduled to have a procedure. Mythoughts keep circling back to her face when she hugged me. The way her voice cracked. I hate that I did that to her. I hate that I might keep doing it.
And I hate to admit it, but I’m thankful for Jax. If it weren’t for him, I would probably be freaking out more than I am—anticipating the old guy with the shaky hands from the ER doing my procedure. But the doctor that came in was the epitome of good health—able and competent, with none of the wear and tear you’d see from the doctors downstairs. He probably costs a fortune.
But I’ll gladly use up Jax’s money if it means I’ll live—if it keeps me from leaving behind Nix. I’ll stay in this hospital for as long as it takes.
I don’t like putting so much faith in Jax that he’ll handle everything, but I don’t have a choice. Like Nix said, none of it matters if I die.
“Oh, sorry.”
I look up to find Caleb poking his head in the door.
“I—sorry. I was just, uh, looking for Nix. I didn’t mean to—”
“She’s probably in the cafeteria.” I cut him off to stop his rambling and quickly swipe the tear off my face.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Yeah. I’ll go check.”
I give him a lame smile and a wave, content to go back to wallowing, but he continues to hover in the doorway like a dog, unsure if it wants to come inside or not.
“Are you…” he takes a timid step in, “are you okay?”
“Wonderful,” I scoff pitifully. “Just fucking wonderful.”
“Do you, um, want to—”
“How does Nix seem?”
“Oh. She’s okay, I guess.”
“Okay?”
He frowns, looking over his shoulder, and then steps all the way in, shutting the door behind him. He’s wearing what I wouldassume are supposed to be trendy jeans but looks like he would be more comfortable in slacks. There’s also a slight redness around his right eye. Is that new or from that bruise that was healing? He ties his hands together and looks at the floor. “Are you going to stay and get the procedure?” he asks.
I lower my brows and raise my arms. “What does it look like?”
“Right. Yeah. Well, then, yeah,” he tries to smile, “Nix will be okay.”
“So, you’re saying that she hasn’t been.” I shake my head, hating myself.
“No,” he rushes, hands lifting like he can physically take it back. “No. She’s just… she’s been worried about you. And that on top of… you know.” His voice drops on the last part like the room might be wired.
I roll my eyes even as they fill with tears. “Oh, I know.”
I haven’t even talked to her about what happened with Marshal. She acts really tough, but she’s not, is she? She just puts on a show like I do. Fuck, that whole night must have been horrific for her, and I didn’t even ask her if she wanted to talk about it. God, I should put her in therapy. But that wouldn’t really be helpful, would it? It’s not like she would be able to say what really happened.
Jesus, I’m failing her.
“But it’s not like, she’s like, she’s not having nightmares or anything.” Caleb’s words trip over each other again. “I mean, I had nightmares for months after the first time I killed…”
I sit up sharply. “You’ve killed someone?”
