But then where would I fit in?
The answer, unfortunately, is very simple.
I wouldn't.
Lucien comes rushing back to the SUV like he has the devil right on his heels, effectively dragging me out of my thoughts. I watch in stunned silence as he swings open the door and searches the seat and floor desperately. I'm not even sure what he's looking for until he grabs his suit jacket and digs into the inner pocket, producing a bottle of hand sanitizer.
I can see his mood change instantly once he has hold of the bottle, which almost seems like some kind of magic elixir in his eyes — his cure-all, perhaps.
He flips open the cap and begins to coat his hands and forearms with the liquid, but his skin is covered in blood. When he realizes the blood isn't coming off, but instead is mixing into one, big, sticky mess, he cries out in desperation.
He grabs his suit jacket and wipes off his arms and starts all over again with lathering the liquid onto his skin and rubbing it in. Even though the blood is gone, he frantically begins clawing at his skin.
While he rips open his flesh, I quietly sneak out of the SUV and stand off to the side, watching him for a moment or two. I don't know enough about Lucien to understand all of his problems, but I know enough.
Placing a gentle hand on his back, Lucien suddenly whirls on me with his fist raised and ready to attack. But when he realizes it's just me, he instantly relaxes.
"Are you okay?" I ask him.
He stares down at his bloody skin, which has to be burning now from the alcohol in the sanitizer.
"I'm never okay," he mutters so softly I almost don't hear him. Raising his head, he glances from me and back to the hospital. "I should be in there," he whispers in angst.
"Then why aren't you?" I ask.
He sighs before crushing the now empty bottle of sanitizer in his hand and throwing it on the floor of the SUV. His hands tremble as he holds them in front of him. "I can't explain everything to you right now," he tells me, grimacing. "I'll just say I have a lot of issues."
I place one hand on my cocked hip and spit out, "No shit." He's clearly stating the obvious here. I decide to try a different tactic with him and his fragile state of mind. "Who cares if you have issues? Weallhave issues," I say, and I have to force myself not to focus on my own damn problems. I point to the hospital and ask, "You love her, don't you?"
"More than life itself," he confesses.
I'm slightly taken aback by his answer. It must be tough to get into that rough exterior of his, but that girl somehow did it. The question that I really want to ask him is did she do that to Jax too? But I push the question aside. For now. Instead, I tell Lucien pointedly, "Then get your shit together and be the man she needs you to be right now."
Scowling, he rakes his hands through his hair. "I fucking can't!" he yells.
Shit, I lost him just that quick. I can see the panic forming on his face again.
"She deserves better than this," he murmurs. "She deserves so much better than what I can give her."
I sigh at his self-deprecating words and watch as he begins to pace around the parking lot, trying to force himself to go to the hospital, but failing miserably every damn time.
"I'll be right back," I tell him before walking to the emergency room doors. I have an idea that might work. If he's too afraid to walk into the hospital because of the germs, and it's all in his head, then maybe I can help him with that.
I walk along the hallways, looking for some sort of storage or locker room that the doctors and nurses use. When I find it, I walk in like I own the place. I've learned over the years that's the best way to keep people from asking questions or thinking you don't belong.
I quickly make my way inside and shut the door behind me.
Flicking on the lights, I search the lockers until I find what I need — an extra pair of surgeon's scrubs. I tuck them under my shirt and grab some other things while I'm at it — a mask, boot covers, and blue latex gloves.
Shoving everything under my shirt and doing my best to make it look like I'm suddenly six months pregnant, I open the door just a crack to make sure the coast is clear. When I see that it is, I slip out of the room and walk with purpose out of the emergency room doors and back to the parking lot.
When I reach the SUV, Lucien is so close to losing his shit it frightens me. His breathing is labored, harsh. He's on the verge of a panic attack, but I hope that I can help him in time before he has a total mental breakdown.
I pull the clothes out from under my shirt and hold them out. Lucien looks up at me, and I give him a small, reassuring smile. "Jax told me a little bit about your…issues," I tell him softly. "I think these might help."
He stares at the contents in my arms. "Where exactly did you get all of this…or should I askhowdid you get all of this?"
I cock my brow and say, "I have my ways." Then, I instruct him with a stern tone, "Hurry. Put them on."
