Page 50 of If Cain Were Able

Patrick

Bile races up my throat at the sight in front of me.

Cain’s dark hair is matted to his head; there are deep, purple bags beneath his closed eyes. I can’t even begin to imagine what he felt when he saw the barrel of that gun aimed right at him. His neck and right shoulder are discolored from bruises. His right arm is in a sling that they’ve somehow managed to secure around his body, trapping his arm to his side. His bedsheet is pulled up to his chest, with a blanket on top, but they’ve forgone a gown. Probably easier to keep an eye on the drain sticking out of his chest wall.

There’s a tube down his throat, taped in place over his mouth, as a machine next to the bed breathes for him. He also now has an incision down the middle of his chest that matches mine.

Two literal broken hearts, mended in each other’s presence.

“Oh, Cain.” It comes out in a whisper, my vocal cords abandoning me, as I reach for his hand, careful not to dislodge the I.V. in his skin or the taped electrodes dotted across his chest.

“Nurses will be in every hour to check on him, but if you notice any changes at all, please call one of them.”

At the overwhelming sight in front of me, I’d managed to forget Dr. Porter was still in the room with us.

Without taking my eyes off Cain, I answer.

“I will.”

As soon as Cain and I are alone, I lean forward, gently pressing my lips to his forehead before trailing the fingers of my free hand along his cheek. His skin feels all wrong.

“It’s been thirty seconds, and I’m already breaking the rules,” I whisper. “See what you do to me?”

Pulling a chair next to his bed, I text Knox, Taylor, Damon, and Liam, knowing they all played a role in my life tonight, and that Cain had unknowingly played a role in theirs over the last two years.

For fifty-two hours, I listen to the sound of machines whirring and beeping before there’s any change. The rhythmic noises and broken body of the man I love are far more devastating than the last time I found myself in this position. At least Taylor was surrounded by his entire family, which included his four siblings, as well as his boyfriend.

Cain only has me.

Damon and Liam have come by a few times, but aren’t allowed in Cain’s room. Realizing that I was antsy and uncomfortable every time I had to leave Cain’s side, they decided to fly back home, but promised they’d be available if I needed anything.

My overnight bag sits in the corner of Cain’s hospital room. The only things I’ve bothered to use are the toothbrush and deodorant.

Going on three days without a shower, shave, or more than thirty minutes of sleep at a time, I look almost as bad as the man lying in the bed.

Finally, early one morning, Cain begins to stir.

His eyes flutter open, and he immediately tries to fight against the tube in his throat.

I race to the door and call for a nurse before rushing back to Cain’s side.

“Hey, shhh. Relax. The nurse is coming to get that thing out, okay? I know it’s uncomfortable, but please don’t fight it.”

Cain looks in my direction, but it’s like he’s looking through me. I do my best not to take it personally because of his obvious state of panic, but it’s hard not to wonder what happens next if he decides he doesn’t actually want me here.

“Cain, welcome back to the land of the living,” says a man I’ve never seen as two nurses unhook the attachments to the tube in Cain’s mouth.

Instead of immediately pulling the tube out, the entire staff pauses, watching Cain.

“What are you waiting for? Can’t you see he’s uncomfortable?” I snap.

The man slowly turns his gaze toward me.

“If it’s all right with you,” the man says in a condescending tone, “I’d like to make sure Dr. Rosemont can breathe on his own before I extubate him, only to have to traumatize him by putting it back in a moment later.”

“Um, oh. Right,” I mutter.

Returning his attention to Cain, he says, “Breathe as normally as you can, Cain.” Cain narrows his eyes at the man and grunts, causing the man in scrubs to laugh. “Just as cuddly as ever, I see.”