“Shh,” she coos while sniffling. “You’re okay, you’re going to be okay. I’m so sorry.”
I move my tongue, trying to tell her not to be sorry. There is no way this could be her fault, but again, words fail me. I’m too tired to speak, too tired to do anything but turn my face toward her sweet touch and hope she understands.
Harlyn
When I push the small white tile on the wall to open the door to the SICU, my steps falter after just breaching the automatic doors. That’s how long it takes me to realize I’ve somehow grown accustomed to the overwhelming antiseptic smell that felt like it burned my nose a couple days ago. There’s no urge to bring my fingers up to my face and block my nostrils while I adjust to the strong chemical odor.
I hate this, hate how easily we can learn to accept things we first find abhorrent and move on, but part of me understands why we have to. The reality is the world doesn’t stop spinning—not when your sister is murdered in her bedroom, and certainly not when an FBI agent gets shot. While these things are life altering to me, most people have no idea the man I love died twice while he was in surgery, and it’s wrecking me.
I should be grateful that I am putting one foot in front of the other, and that sheer exhaustion has allowed me to sleep in short stints so I’m not at risk of actually losing my damn mind. I’m eating, and yeah, it’s just enough to satisfy whoever is bringing it to the room, so their effort doesn’t seem wasted. I’m breathing, and my body is functioning, but that isn’t surprising. I’m not the one who was shot by the same man who killed my sister. Boone was.
He could have died, hediddie, and I can’t help but acknowledge my part in that. Sometimes I tell myself it could have happened even if Boone and I hadn’t met, that someone in the universe has a very strange sense of humor, because the case he was working on was somehow connected to Hayzel’s, and this outcome could have always been in the cards. It even works to ease the crippling guilt for a little while, but then I see his mom and sisters sitting next to his bed crying, and I remember the truth.
Everyone I love dies.
Boone was saved by some small miracle, but how selfish would it be for me to tempt fate again? Funny that my mind decided today was the day for me to no longer notice the smell. It’s the last day I will ever be at this hospital, and the last time I will ever see Boone.
It took me longer than it should have to come to this conclusion, and when I finally realized what I had to do, I still couldn’t leave, not until I knew he was going to be okay. Last night, after everyone left, I snuck back into his room. The nurses knew, of course, but that wasn’t who I was hiding from. It was his family and friends.
None of them have blamed me, at least not to my face. I don’t even know if any of them know my role in this, but I can feel the way they look at me, like I’m a stranger who doesn’t belong, and they are right. I’m not even sure Boone knew who I was last night when he briefly woke up. One thing was clear though, I need to leave before I lose my resolve and he gets hurt again.
The walk to his room, which is down two halls and through one more closed off door, seems shorter today. The steady beep of machines unites to make a near continuous hum that you never really get used to but learn to ignore. It’s a sad place, a place where tears make more frequent appearances than smiles. The air even feels heavy with emotion, but I push through, pretending everything is okay.
I stop at the large nurse’s station just outside of Boone’s room. His door is closed, and the curtains are drawn. Panic tries to well up, but I swallow it down while forcing a cordial smile. “Is it okay to go in?”
“I think there are already two people in there, but they might have left when I was busy.” She gives me an exaggerated wink to let me know she isn’t really watching that closely, and they aren’t going to kick anyone out despite them constantly reminding usonly two people in the room at a time. She starts to turn away, but I touch her arm to keep her attention.
I pull the envelope I intended to leave in Boone’s room out of my bag and hand it over to her. It’s thick, holding three folded sheets of heavy paper, but it still doesn’t reflect a tenth of what I wanted to say.
“I can’t stay long, and I don’t want to interrupt. Can you make sure he gets this?”
Her dark eyes dip at the corner, mimicking the frown now curling her lips. “You don’t want to just pop in?” Despite the question, her hand is already outstretched to take the sealed packet.
“It’s okay,” I assure her, almost adding the lie,I’ll see him later, but my throat tightens, making it impossible.
She bounces her gaze back and forth between my eyes, searching them. She’s either very perceptive, or maybe I’m as easy to read as Boone said, because she knows something is up. It’s probably not close to the truth. I’m leaving to make sure Boone is safe from me. It would be easier to assume I don’t want to deal with the recovery of his injuries, or that I’m just too scared to be with someone who has to risk their life for their job, but it doesn’t matter what she or anyone else thinks. I know why I can’t stay.
“Thank you,” I mutter before turning around and walking back the way I came. I wasn’t kidding about not having a lot of time. My flight leaves in less than two hours.
CHAPTER 28
Boone
“Knock it off, I’m fine.” My insistence is more than likely ruined by the wince I can’t hide, but the constant nagging from my sisters is nearly as painful. I feel like I’m twelve years old again right after I broke my arm while falling off my bike.
“Shut up,” Holly mutters, still fussing over the blanket covering my toes. Hospital blankets are not made for people my size, or for anyone’s size, considering how damn thin they are.
I’ve only been fully awake for a little while, and I want the hell out of here even if I know the pain meds won’t be half as good at home.
“He’s just crabby because his girlfriend isn’t here,” Grace, the youngest and sassiest of my sisters, chimes in.
My lip curls up in aggravation, but I don’t admit it’s the truth. My mom told me Harlyn barely left my room while I asleep, but I haven’t seen her once since I’ve been awake. I have a hazy memory of her last night, but I’m not even sure it was real. “Ineed to know she’s okay.” I try to shift again, only to wish I hadn’t. Being shot fucking sucks. My guts literally feel like they want to fall out of my ass.
I should quit bitching and be thankful the bastard only got a shot in my side and not in my head, and I am, but it’s hard to be positive when it hurts to breathe. Thank God for vests. With the way my chest looks and feels, I know I would be dead if it wasn’t for the Kevlar.
“She looked fine yesterday. The nurse said she didn’t leave until just a little while before we got here this morning.” Holly finally quits with the burrito act on my toes and levels me with a stare. She’s the oldest, the one who would kick our asses when Mom wasn’t there to do it, and even though I’m more than a head taller and have at least fifty pounds on her, something in my subconscious still thinks she’s capable of doing it.
“What?” I know that look. I’m about to be in trouble.
