Page 92 of All The Ways to Miss You

When we attend Steph’s funeral, I can’t bring myself to leave her. On my knees before her, I grip my own fingers and pray she’s found peace. The world won’t be the same without her, and I’ll never recover from the loss. I failed her as much as I failed Cait.

How long has it been? A week? I can’t take any more. Despite the warnings from my lawyer, I need to see Cait to confirm she’s still here, still breathing, still fighting, and that the nightmares I have are only that. Nightmares.

With my jacket gripped in my hand, I head for the front door. The lights snap on in the foyer as I unchain the lock.

“Where you headed this late?” Linden descends the stairs in his pajamas. His admonishing gaze convicts me. He already knows the answer.

“Out.” I reach for the knob.

“Think about what you’re doing. Be smart.”

I turn to him where he’s paused on the bottom step, his expression stern. He can’t know what it’s been like to bury my best friend today and be so uncertain about Cait’s recovery. What if something happens to her and I don’t see her before . . .

My thoughts drift, and I shake my head. I won’t allow myself to think the worst. I can’t.

“What would you do if it were Viv?” I ask.

He flinches like this is the most unimaginable question, and his hand clenches the railing. “I’d fucking destroy anyone who kept us apart.”

“Yeah. That’s the anger you’re asking me to cage.”

I step out and slam the door. It’s been building inside, and I need a release. Tonight, I made a bargain with myself. If I do this one thing, I may be able to get through the pain.

I haven’t been to our apartment since it happened. I can’t bear it, not without her. But I go tonight because I need to collect something.

Through Devon, who now works security in the hospital, I find out they’ve moved Cait into a private wing. Her room is guarded, no doubt to keep me away. With his help, I take the fire stairs to her floor and wait. When her security detail moves to the nurses’ station to chat, I slip into the hallway on hurried but silent steps to her room.

When I see her, I stumble to a shocked halt. She’s worse than I imagined. One leg is splinted and elevated. Her right arm and shoulder are casted and stretched to her side. Her face is covered with a mustard-colored bruise, and tubes snake from it. Machines beep in the background, and the glow of overhead fluorescent lights give the room a sickly pea-green cast.

My chest heaves. It’s too much to take, and I cover my mouth to hold back silent cries. She was so alive the last time I saw her in our home, and now this?

Clutching my stomach, I bend over, remembering I could have made love to her one last time, but didn’t. Instead, I walked out the door and left. It’s unfathomable. If only I could rewind the clock and take back every wrong move I made. Devastated, I move to the chair beside her and drop into it, carrying the weight of my guilt.

Her left arm rests on the bed. I grab it and hold her hand to my cheek, to my forehead, and press it to my lips. I kiss each perfect finger. She’s still warm and full of life. I have to believe she’s still in there. That she’s going to recover.

“Hey.” A painful swallow sticks in my throat. I must be strong for her. “I don’t have a lot of time. If you were awake, you’d know why. Your parents are assholes.”

I smile because I know she would too.

“I wanted to do this in our spot, but I changed my mind when I walked past the house you like. I peeked in the windows. Of what I could see, it’ll need some work, but we can make it beautiful. I’ve been imagining us in it, thinking positive and setting goals like you would.” I sigh. “What I’m trying to say is I wanted to do this there.”

I remove a blue velvet ring box from my pocket.

“You already know what’s in my heart, Cait. You’ve known it since the moment we met. I want us to grow old in that house. I want us to have babies in that house. I want to fight with you, make up with you, and make love to you in that house. And I want it forever. You’re my everything.”

I open the box. The sapphire and diamonds glint under the light. I remove the ring and slide it securely onto her ring finger. When she wakes, I want her to know I was here, that I never want to be away from her again. She’ll know what it means . . . that I love her, that I’ll always love her. I kiss her hand and imagine her response.

“I love you more,” I tell her.

“Touching.”

My head snaps around to the voice. I find her mom standing very still in the doorway, coffee in hand. She sets it down on a table as though preparing for a fight with a grizzly bear.

My heart rate accelerates when Judge London appears in the hallway behind her. His face is still bruised from our altercation. I rise and expand my chest, unwilling to stand down.

Inside me, the caged animal wakes. With them standing here, it’s already snarling, baring its teeth and crouched, ready for a fight. I grip the empty ring box in my hand, letting it remind me what’s at stake—our future. But still, it takes every ounce of self-control I have to wrangle my composure.

“I was just leaving.” I approach them, my head held high. I’ve done nothing wrong.