My eyes flutter open. The light is too bright, and for a moment, everything blurs into a white haze. When my vision finally adjusts, his face is the first thing I see.
Alex.
He looks like hell. His dark hair is disheveled, his eyes rimmed red and heavy with guilt, panic, or something close to grief. He’s sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, leaningforward trying to anchor himself to me, like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.
I feel the tears build behind my eyes, but use every ounce of power left in me to stop them from falling.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is a croak, gravelly from the breathing tube that I can feel was once there and the pain.
Relief flashes across his face the second I speak, but it’s followed by a wave of something else as he realizes that my reaction to seeing him is not what he expected it to be.
“Em, I?—”
“Get out,” I bite.
He flinches like I slapped him. “What?”
“I said get out.”
I try to push myself up onto my elbows, wincing at the effort, my arms trembling from the weight of my own body. Every part of me aches, but I don’t care. I won’t let him see me like this, not when I’m this vulnerable, or when the wounds are still fresh and he’s the reason they’re bleeding.
“Em, I was only gone for a couple minutes,” he says, panic rising in his voice. “I was coming right back. I swear. I just went to try to surprise you with?—”
“I don’t care,” I interrupt, not having the energy for his constant excuses.
His mouth opens like he wants to continue explaining, or apologizing, or groveling, but I don’t give him the chance.
“You weren’t there, Alex. Youleftme.”
He looks stunned.
“I was coming back,” he insists, saying it softer now like the volume might make it more believable.
“I needed you and you weren’t there,” I whisper, voice splintering around the edges.
“Em, just listen to me.”
“No!” The heart monitor spikes with the rise of my voice.The beeps accelerate, each one screaming what I already know: my heart can’t take this right now. “I don’t want excuses or apologies. I don’t wantanythingfrom you. Just go!”
He grips his knees, fingers pressing in the denim as if trying to hold himself back from reaching for me. He must see it in my face, the finality of my words.
“Please,” he says one last time, so quiet I almost miss it.
“Leave.”
The word breaks something in him. He looks at me for one last lingering second. His eyes are trying to memorize me at this moment, searching desperately to see if I’ll change my mind. Then he simply nods while standing slowly and walks out of the room without another word.
The second the heavy door slams shut behind him, I crumble. The pain is unbearable. It’s not physical anymore. It’s the emotional kind that splinters through you like shrapnel. It’s silent and deadly, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake.
Cam bursts into the room first, followed closely by Leo and Frankie.
“What the hell was that about?” Cam demands.
I can’t even look at him. My gaze fixed on the door Alex walked out of not even a minute ago.
“I don’t want to see him.” The words come out forced, like I am trying to make myself believe they are true.
Frankie lets out a sharp breath, muttering a quiet, “Jesus.”
