She covers my legs with the blankets and then, making sure nothing below the waist is exposed, she reaches for the corner of the towel and gently pulls it out from under me. “Savage,” she says gently, wringing the towel between her hands. “Why would you apologize?”
I let my eyes fall closed. “Same reason you did,” I mutter, and then I pass the fuck out again.
I spendthe next few hours, or maybe it’s days, in and out of consciousness. I am vaguely aware of Claire’s presence, of a doctor coming to examine me, of swallowing down stronger pain meds and sips of soup, but most of the time, I’m completely out of it. It feels like days go by in a blur of stumbling to the bathroom to piss and taking pain meds. I know days pass only by how many times I wake up when it’s light compared to dark.
When I finally open my eyes for more than a few pain-soaked minutes, again, it’s dark in the room. I hear the distant whirring of a white noise machine and see the faint light of a laptop coming from across the room. I shift against the pillows and groan. “Claire?” I keep my voice low in case Aurora is sleeping.
I see the laptop light move and hear rustling from the couch. “I’m here,” she says quietly. “How do you feel?”
I take a minute to really think about that. “Hungry,” I chuckle. “When the fuck did I last eat anything?”
She clicks on a bedside lamp. “It’s been a while,” she says, her lips pulled down into a frown.
As my eyes adjust to the light, I realize I’m still in her room. “Shit,” I mutter. “I’m still in your bed. How long has it been?” I scan the room and don’t see a crib. “Where’s Aurora?”
Claire sits on the edge of the bed beside my legs. I’m still naked under the covers, and I wonder how many times I’ve gotten up to piss and given her a hell of a show. No use worrying about that now.
“Phantom suggested we move Aurora into your room while you’re here,” she says quietly. “I have the monitors set up so I can be there in under five seconds if she wakes up.” She smiles. “I’m just glad you don’t have naked pictures of girls up on the walls.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or curse.
She nods, her eyes locked on mine. “I’ve been so worried,” she says softly. She reaches out and strokes my hair back from my face. “You were talking in your sleep, and it seemed like you were having a nightmare.”
“What did I say?” I ask, staring into her eyes.
“Savage…” She looks away, slowly pulling her hand from my hair.
“Claire.” I grab her wrist lightly and move myfingers to hers. I lock our fingers together and squeeze gently. “Please. Just tell me what I said.”
She looks from my face to our fingers, but she doesn’t move to pull away. Instead, she shocks the shit out of me by pulling my hand to her lips and kissing my knuckles. I feel tears fall from her eyes and drip onto our hands. “Let’s just say I think I understand now why you saved me.”
Neither one of us says anything. We hold hands, her tears wetting my knuckles. I don’t know what to say. Thank you? I’m sorry? Fuck my old man for beating my mother, for beating me? Fuck guys like Anthony and Mad Dog, who use their fists instead of real strength?
“There’s no fucking way on this earth I could have left you like I found you. But you took it, you took the hand I held out to you. Why didn’t she? Why didn’t my mom?”
Claire places her hand on me. “It doesn’t mean she didn’t love you. I promise you that, Savage.”
“She feared him more than she loved me,” I spit out. “That’s the fucking truth.”
“No.” Claire cups my face in her hands and squeezes gently, which I appreciate because my jaw is still bruised. “Listen to me, Savage. Please.” Her eyes are wild when I meet them. “She loved you more than she loved anything in the world, and that’s why she stayed. She stayed to protect you. To put herself between him and you. That’s how much she loved you. Enough to make a deal with the devil.”
“I hope when he finally meets his maker, he rots inhell,” I grit out, my teeth chattering I’m so enraged. “Right next to Anthony and Mad Dog and all the rest of them.”
Claire lowers her forehead to rest against mine. “You saved me,” she whispers. “You’re my salvation. And every minute of every day, you being alive, you being her son, that’s what saved her. Even if you couldn’t get her out, I promise you on my baby’s life, you’re her salvation too.”
Claire leans forward and plants the softest kiss against my lips. I reach my hands behind her hair and hold her there, her forehead against mine. If I’m her salvation, then she might just be mine too.
8
CLAIRE
Savage spendsthe next week in my room, recovering from his injuries. During the day, I bring Aurora out to the front of the compound, and we play outside in the grass, practicing standing, reading books, or just talking to each other with Aurora’s growing vocabulary of sounds that want to be words.
Most days, Savage hobbles his way into a lawn chair to watch. He and Tank have started a contest to see who can teach my daughter how to high-five faster.
So far, Tank’s in the lead, but I don’t think Savage really minds. He watches her play with a curious combination of amusement and interest on his face.
He keeps his distance, and I have to imagine—even though he hasn’t said anything—that he feels a mixture of fear and responsibility when it comes to my daughter. If he was subjected to what I think he was as a child, I can’t even imagine what watching my daughter brings up for him emotionally.
