As if only now realizing she could be hurting me by climbing on the bed like this and putting pressure on where I’d been stitched up, she backed away.
I didn’t want her to feel rejected at all. I merely shifted over a bit, making room for her to lean against me.
“I’m not going to die, Maisie.”
Someday, far into the future, sure. No one was immortal. But I hated for her to be so stressed about my dying now.
Catching a glimpse of Natalie showed how this affected her too. She looked closer to tears once more, more anxious. If she was thinking on the same line of thoughts that I was, and what Claire was likely thinking as well, she had to be saddened and alarmed by how Maisie was fearing a repeat of having another man in her life dead.
She’d lost her father already. Fitz lost his life due tome, actually. But the fact that she was making the situations parallel, comparing how her father died and how she didn’t want me to die as well, proved how much significance I had in her life.
I kept my arm wrapped around Maisie as she tucked against my side. With my free hand, I found Natalie’s fingers and twined them with mine.
“I’m not dying, Maisie,” I said again, realizing she might need to hear it again and again to have it stick.
Claire nodded, watching over us. She furrowed her brow, perhaps concerned about the trauma impacting her. I bet she’d have a solid recommendation for therapy if we could pursue that route for her, especially with how young she was.
“I’m being cared for. Claire stitched me up.”
“Can I see?” she asked, wiping tears from her eyes.
I was patient, showing her the spot in my calf and on my other side, near my ribs, where Claire had patched me up. She took the chance to inspect on the sites, too, reconfirming to the girl that I was doing well. Tired, but well. No signs of swelling or inflammation. She showed how nothing looked infected, and it started to sound more like a science talk. When she pulled the vitals monitor over and pointed out the numbers, she further—and clinically—reassured Maisie that I wasn’t at death’s door.
“I will do all I can to be in your life forever,” I told her.
Meaning every single word of it, I kissed the top of her head.
Maisie nodded, pressing against me as I patiently and calmly talked her down from her panic. That we had lots of people to help keep us safe. How all my family members would look out for her. Natalie jumped in too, talking about how George was recovering in another room. I was glad to hear that my right-hand man was faring well.
“I think she’s out,” Claire said softly.
Anya had entered the room to visit me, too, and the teen approached Maisie as she napped next to me. “I know she slept a little bit.” She scooped her into her arms. “But I bet she’s still worn out from everything.”
Natalie yawned, as if on cue.
Claire exited the room to carry Maisie out. She paused as she passed Natalie, setting her hand on her shoulder. “You should rest, too.” She glanced back at me with a smile. “Both of you could use it.”
Alone again, I took Natalie’s hand. “I can’t rest yet.”
She sighed, boring me with such a soulful, vulnerable stare of trust.
“Not until I can tell you that I pray you will find it in your heart to forgive me, Natalie. For the role I had in his death. For ever bringing you into danger. I pray for your forgiveness and love, and I hope you can choose me.”
She smiled softly, squeezing my fingers.
“I want to believe that you could choose a future of love with me, not staying firm with your anger at me or the sorrow of missing your husband.”
She drew in a shaky breath, holding my gaze with tears in her eyes.
I kissed the back of her hand. “I pray that you can choose to fight forus.”
36
NATALIE
Ishook my head. “I can’t be angry at you, Sergei.”
It broke my heart that he still felt like he had to make his case for me. But it was my fault that he did. It was all on me that he was worried about whether we could make it together.
