“We will talk about this later, but right now, I need a few hours.” My voice is strong, but I can feel the hurt quickly building. It’s not that he thinks he isn’t good enough; it’s not that he was just about to leave, although that fucking kills me. It’s the fact that he wasn’t even going to talk to me. We talk about everything; nothing is off limits, and for him to just take that decision away is not okay. But I know I need to think things through, think about my response before I lose my shit on him.
I turn on my heel and head toward the elevator.
“Willow…” Oakley calls out.
“Later,” I yell over my shoulder, not bothering to look at him. The tears are yet again falling, and I hate it.
All I want to do is stop fucking crying.
Going home and taking a shower, then getting some fresh air with a walk sounds like a good start, though.
Chapter 33
Oakley
They want to keep me another two days, but I’m losing my mind just sitting here and thinking.
The nurse has kept me somewhat updated on Willow, but I haven’t seen her for myself and it’s making me anxious as hell.
But the guilt is still there in full force too. And I’m torn between breaking out and finding her, and just leaving because I’m not even sure what I bring to the table anymore.
“Brought coffee. Probably not as good as yours, but whatever,” Woodcroft says as he walks through my hospital door.
“Thanks.” I take the offered cup.
We sit in silence as we drink our coffee.
“We gonna talk about it?” Woodcroft asks.
I sigh. “I’m sorry for blaming you guys yesterday. That was fucked-up.”
“It was, but I probably would have done the same.”
“He played us, just like we assumed he would. We just couldn’t plan for the way he actually did it.”
“Yup.” He pops the P.
“And it was all on me in the end. Tennison was coming after me. He had a vendetta against me, tortured more people to get to me, and nothing good came from any of it.”
“Nothing good?” Woodcroft’s voice is dangerously low.
“Hell no! I wouldn’t be shocked if Willow wants nothing to do with me after all of this.”
“Holy fuck,” he whispers in exasperation. “You’re a dumb shit, you know that?”
I grunt, not responding. It seems like he has shit to say, so might as well let him get it out. Not that it will change anything.
“Tennison is dead. Do you understand that? Years of work, of sacrifice, of hunting, are done. He’s gone. That is fucking good, Oak. You creating a life here away from all the bullshit is fucking good, Oak. Our entire career on the Task Force is finally for something, and you’re sitting here sulking? Feeling guilty for another, very demented person’s actions? We did a good fucking thing here. Yes, shit happened. Yes, what happened to Lennox, to you, was extremely unfortunate, and I wish it never happened. But wefinallygot Tennison. His reign of terror is over. His victims can finally rest easy. Doesn’t that mean something?”
He’s imploring me to hear him, and I want to, but I don’t know how I could ever forgive myself for what happened to Lennox. Yes, I’m happy Tennison is burning in the depths of hell and that victims will get some closure. But I’m still so stuck on his words.
“I always followed you closer between you and your partner because you always seemed to be closer to finding me. Every single case you got closer but just never quite reached me.”
I was so close, multiple times, and I just … wasn’t good enough. It literally took Willow telling us about the cabin to get him. He probablywould have lured us there regardless, but either way, it wouldn’t have been my doing. I did nothing. Not good enough to catch him, instead bringing destruction to a good friend and forever changing his life. How can I not feel guilty? How can I feel any level of happiness right now?
“I just … can’t see the positive right now, Kel.”
“It’s going to take time; sure, I get it. Just please, for the love of God, think about what I said. We finally won. It means something, otherwise what was all of this even for?”
