And I just crumbled.
Deep, heavy sobs wracked my body, all of the pain I’d been holding in finally surfacing now that there was someone here to help me carry it.
“I hate it here,” I wept, my hands clutching at him. “I hate it so much. It’s scary and cold and—and I’ve felt so alone.”
One of his hands slid up to cradle the back of my head.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” he said roughly, thumb massaging my scalp. “I swear on my life, El.”
“What if they won’t let me go?” I cried.
“They can’t keep you here forever, cherub. I’ve been working to get you out since the first day. I can’t promise you when it’ll happen, but I can promise you it will. You just gotta hang in there for me a little longer. Can you do that? Can you be strong for Daddy just a little while longer?”
I hiccuped and looked up at his face.
“I can try, Daddy.”
Jace glanced up at the ceiling for a second, as if praying to a higher power, then cupped my face in his hands. With his fingers, he wiped away the tears staining my cheeks.
“The minute you leave here, you won’t have to be strong any longer, I promise.”
6
Jace
“You’ll need to bring him to the address on the discharge paperwork once a week. Their office phone number is listed there; call to schedule an appointment within the next few days. We will know if you don’t. Therapy is mandatory.”
“Got it,” I answered shortly, my body practically vibrating with the need to finally take Elior home.
The nurse didn’t look impressed by my urgency. She slid another page toward me, tapping a manicured nail against the margin. “Medication schedule is non-negotiable. Morning and evening, with food. Side effects are listed here. If there’s any regression in his condition, contact us immediately.”
“I will,” I said. I meant it. I’d memorized the list already, gone over it twice last night and once again this morning while I waited for them to let me back into the room.
One month.
That’s how long they’d kept him here. One month of white walls and locked doors and people asking him questions he didn’t have the language to answer. One month of watchinghim get thinner, the healthy glow of his skin dulling, his beautiful curves whittling away. One month of monitored visits and careful distance and rules that made my teeth grind.
And then, last night—casually, as if they weren’t detonating a whole-ass bomb in my chest cavity—they’d told me he’d be discharged in the morning.
I hadn’t slept more than an hour at most.
The nurse kept talking. “He’ll need structure, routine, consistency. No major stressors. No sudden changes.”
I almost laughed at that. Instead, I held my tongue and nodded. “Of course.”
I signed where she pointed, not letting my hand shake. I didn’t let them see how badly I wanted to be done with this—to take Elior out of this goddamn place and into the house I’d rented for us.
I stood as soon as the nurse gathered her papers. “We’re clear?”
She looked at me over her glasses, weighing me. Everyone always weighed me now. I knew how people saw me. I was fine with it. After all, most of their suspicions were true.
“Once transport clears him. Shouldn’t be long.”
“Good.”
I didn’t bother softening my tone.
The walk down the hall felt unreal. Familiar doors passed by—rooms I’d stood outside of for weeks, hands shoved into my pockets so I wouldn’t do anything that would put this moment at risk. Elior’s door was at the end, half-open now. Sunlight cut across the floor in a way it hadn’t before, like even the building knew it was letting him go.
