I don’t look at any of them, just walk right into the room without thinking and then stop dead in my tracks.
James is lying in the hospital bed, looking weaker than I ever could have imagined. He’s hooked up to the same machines Lennox was, andhe’s covered with a hospital gown. He looks like he’s sleeping, so I slowly walk over to him.
That fear when I saw him and Tennison fighting returns with a vengeance. It’s like my flight-or-fight response doesn’t realize it’s all over and now it’s time for healing.
I sit in the chair that someone left right next to his bed and try to work through my emotions.
I don’t know how to react, what to say, or how he would want me to treat him. And the memory of him calling me his fiancé pounds in my skull, begging to be true, even though I’ve never seen myself as the type to get married. It just means that he’s alive. It means that he’s mine, and I won’t lose him.
And I’m not sure how he’ll feel when he wakes up.
Carefully, I reach out—noticing I’m shaking worse now and my hands feel clammy—and slide my hand into his.
“Trouble,” his whispered voice hits me, and I completely break down.
Chapter 31
Oakley
Her tears break my heart all over again.
Failure is the only thing running through my body. I should be ecstatic that Tennison is finally gone from this world, but all I can think of is how I failed Lennox. How I failed to protect the family of the woman I love.
It makes me feel less than, and wholly not worthy of her tears.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Nope. We’re not doing that. And if you apologize, I think I’m going to poke your damn incision.” She laughs through the tears, and I relax a little.
“That would hurt really bad, I think,” I grumble.
“Yep.”
“How’s Lennox?”
“He’s…” She completely breaks down again, and the guilt is overwhelming.
She can ask me for the rest of my life to not apologize, but it’s my fault. This whole fucked-up situation is my fault, and I’ll never be able to atone for that.
“He’s physically going to be okay, but how does someone recover mentally from what was done to him?” she whispers.
I can’t answer because I don’t have an answer. Every victim we’ve ever talked to struggled every single day. Some succumbed to depression, to the inability to escape the memories. Over the course that I worked on Tennison’s case, we lost six people to suicide. It’s something I’ll never be able to forget, never be able to reconcile.
And if Lennox falls into the same path, I’ll never recover. Not for the damage it would do to Willow.
“We’ll help him,” I barely get out. I don’t necessarily feel it’s true, not for me. I wholeheartedly believe Willow and her family will help Lennox recover to the best of their ability, but I just don’t know where I fit into it all.
Am I even any good for her?
This entire situation is making me second-guess everything. Not how much I love this woman because I think she’s the only one I’ll ever love like this. But if Lennox never heals, if something far worse happens, in what world would she ever forgive me? Sure, she seems like she doesn’t blame me, but will that still be the case in a couple of weeks? In a year?
She puts her forehead on our hands and just cries. My other hand reaches over, putting it on her head in some lame attempt at comfort. Her shoulders shake with her sobs, and my eyes well with tears. I don’t feel the pain in my arm or my stomach.
It’s ripping my heart into a million pieces that she’s in pain and I can’t do anything to help. Hell, it hurts more that I know I’m the reason for her heartache.
“Fuck, Will,” I barely get out through my own tears. I attempt to scoot over, and it draws her head up.
“Don’t move,” she scolds.
