I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be allowed near her. I hadone goddamn job, and I couldn’t do it. But even now, I can’t stay away from her.
I circle the bed, take her free hand in mine, and kiss her knuckles, and then, as if my body is moving on its own, I crawl onto the bed with her and hold her gently against me, wrapping my body around her as if to keep her safe from anyone who might come storming in here to try to hurt her.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper against her ear. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I press my lips to her forehead and feel tears fill my eyes when I realize that I can’t smell her oranges. All I smell is the antiseptic of the hospital, and it makes me want to rage.
“You’re going to be okay, baby. I promise, it’s going to be okay.”
“We’re going to step out,” I hear Willow say as she pats my back, and then I’m left here, with my girl. Someone turns off the overhead light, covering us in darkness, and I let the tears come.
I never want to relive those moments behind the pub. It’s too fucking close to what happened five years ago.
Lena in danger, all because I didn’t listen to my gut and tell her no. Because I wanted to give her the world, and I caved when shebatted those gorgeous lavender eyes and asked me so sweetly for just one night out.
I can’t trust my own judgment with her.
“I need you to be okay, baby. I need you to get better and open those pretty eyes for me. We have too much to do, Rebel. And you’re too hardheaded to let something like this keep you down for long. Christ, you were amazing out there. When I came out the door and saw you shove your foot into that asshole’s knee, I was so proud of you.”
I keep talking to her, holding her, kissing her. I need this amazing woman to be okay. Because she’s the best part of my life.
Finally, noticing the time, I ease out of the bed, careful not to jostle Lena, and sit in the chair next to her. The president and her husband should be here soon.
Not fifteen minutes later, the door opens, the light flips on, and Lena’s parents, along with Bishop, step inside.
I stand as Lena’s dad rushes to her side, not even sparing me a glance, and takes her hand.
“Report,” Madam President says as she stands at the end of the bed and stares at her daughter with fear in her eyes.
“Since arriving at the hospital,” I begin, and fill them in on all the tests and the diagnosis. “She needs rest but is expected to make a full recovery.”
“Give us a minute, please,” she says, and I nod, give Lena one final look, and then join Bishop in the hallway.
“Tell me you got this under control,” I say as soon as we’re alone.
“You were right,” he says, dragging his hand through his thinning hair. “Chelsea was the snitch. She’d been seeing Rogers for months, and she’s been questioned. It seems Rogers was feeding her addiction in exchange for information.”
“I’m glad I killed the fucker.”
Bishop exhales. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t the mastermind. He was just young and Chelsea’s type, and she fell for his shit.”
“Who the fuck—” I break off when he meets my gaze evenly, and cold settles into my bones again. “Richie.”
“He was working with a small faction of people who don’t like the president’s war policy, and they thought they could manipulate her if they had her daughter.”
“And they were able to infiltrate the motherfuckingSecret Service?” I demand.
“They paid a lot of money.” He leans back against the wall. “Of course, this is treason. Everyone has been arrested, including Chelsea. We have proof. The idiot woman didn’t delete anything from her phone, and Richie’s singing like a fucking canary.”
“The night of the gallery—”
“Chelsea was in on it. All of it.” He shakes his head. “She thought Lena was dead, and we were covering it up. Until Lena called her the other day.”
He lifts an eyebrow at me, and I wince.
“It was a secure line, but that’s no excuse. I fucked up.”
“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t, we would still be chasing our goddamn tails.” He watches me as I look longingly at the door. “Did you fall in love with her?”
