He shifted and grimaced. “Like I got shot in the back.”
Both Saint and I snickered. “That’s a crappy joke,” I said.
“Too soon?”
“Way too soon.”
Saint slipped in next to me, fastening his suit jacket. “You look like crap.”
Elijah grinned. “Thanks. You don’t look bad yourself.”
Saint took Elijah’s hand and squeezed. “It’s good to have you back, man.”
“How long was I out?”
“Couple of days.”
“Julio?”
Saint squared his shoulders. “Burning in hell right now.”
“Good.”
“Okay. I need to make a few calls.” Saint glanced at me. “But I’ll be around for a bit longer.”
I acknowledged his vague offer for support with a half-smile and watched him walk out.
“Are you okay?’ Elijah’s voice was soft, weak.
“I’m fine. Are you in pain? Do you need me to get a doctor?”
He shook his head on top of the wrinkled beige pillowcase. “I’m okay. As long as you’re here, I’m good.”
My heart cracked and bled some more. As much as my heart had been sliced and broken over and over again during the last few days, I wondered if I’d ever know what it felt like to not carry this massive hole inside my chest.
“I’m glad this is over.”
“Yeah, me too.” I pulled the chair closer and sat down beside the bed, still clutching his hand.
“With Julio gone, you’re finally safe. We don’t have to hide anymore.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, biting back my tears.
“It’s just, I wonder why he thought you’d have Gianni’s pocket Bible. But it doesn’t matter.” He let go of my hand and cupped my cheek. “Thank God I got there in time. If he had hurt you, I never would have forgiven myself. I failed Ellie. It would have killed me if I failed you too.”
I could have told him the truth. I could have told him that his memories were wrong, distorted, and fabricated. That he was there with me in that room with Julio the entire time, that Saint and his men found us. I could have told him that his mind had confabulated that memory, his shooting creating another traumatic event that manipulated his already broken mind. I could have told him everything. That Ellie wasn’t real, and merely a figment of his imagination which his brain had convinced him was real. But I didn’t. I held it all inside, keeping it locked inside my own thoughts. I was at that very familiar crossroad again.
Every dream has its sacrifices. You either make those sacrifices and live with the consequences, or live without the dream.
My dream was him. Elijah. No matter what, I loved him. I fell in love with him exactly the way he was, and his mind had always been broken, which meant I loved that broken part of him as well.
His reality will have to become yours.
I nestled my cheek deeper into his chest. “You didn’t fail Ellie,” I whispered. “Who knows, we might still find her.”
“We?”
I glanced up at him. “Yes. We. If she’s out there, we’ll find her.”
His chest rose and fell, my body moving with the gentle motion. “I love you, Charlotte.”
“I love you too, Elijah…more than you’ll ever know.”
THIS IS THE END OF ELIJAH AND CHARLOTTE’S STORY
* * *
