Finding Us

by S. K. Hartley

  “Still the same.” I sighed.

  “Well, let’s see if we can wake sleeping beauty, huh, handsome?”

  Placing on her latex gloves, she placed a clenched fist against his chest and rubbed gently before checking his eyes with her pen torch. Sighing, she pulled off her gloves.

  “Well, I hope you’re full of beans when you wake up, young man. I want to see those beautiful eyes,” Jenna said, grabbing Tate’s chart.

  “Jenna?” I said timidly.

  Her gaze locked with mine, a flash of sadness washing over her features. “Yes, love?”

  “Um, do you have some paper and a black marker?” I asked.

  “I’m sure I can dig one out for you.” She smiled before exiting the room.

  Ten minutes later, Jenna walked back into the room, bringing a piece of paper and a black marker like I had asked. Placing Tate’s chart back on his bed, she smiled warmly before quietly leaving the room again.

  With a deep sigh, I started tearing up the paper into small uneven squares. I made sure each individual square wasn’t the same. No lie is ever the same. Why kid yourself into thinking they are?

  I drew nineteen little lies, all of which representing everything I hated. The lies about my father, the lies about who I was, who Jace was. There were no amount of jars, no amount of tiny black hearts I could draw that would change any of that.

  Two hundred and one little lies sat in my jar of hearts.

  Two hundred and one reasons to believe that eventually the truth will prevail.

  Holding onto my jar in my left hand, I assumed the position I had been in for the past couple of days: my hand in Tate’s, holding on as I prayed for him to wake up.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  My mind was in a dream, faceless people stood all around me, staring as if they knew all of my secrets. It was terrifying yet liberating all at the same time. The room was blanketed in darkness, only a slither of light penetrated the room, masking the faces of my dream in a deep shadow. As the first man stepped out of the shadows, I broke down in tears.

  “Stop your crying.” he snapped.

  “I can’t do this, please don’t make me do this,” I begged, pleaded.

  “You need to learn, Little Willow. It’s just the cleaner, no one will miss him,” he stated flatly, as if the Glock in my hand and what he was forcing me to do were regular daily occurrences.

  “I… I can’t,” I stuttered.

  He stepped behind me, his entire body flush with my back. I cringed. His right arm came over my shoulder, placing his hand over my shaking one. The blindfolded man cried softly on the chair, his hands and feet restrained with ropes as he prayed to be released.

  My stomach rolled. I was going to vomit.

  “Get yourself together, girl!” he yelled, his grip around my hand tightening painfully. “Place your finger on the trigger.”

  My body wasn’t responding. Before his presence would make me tremble. Now he was physically touching me and all I could do was shrink like a child.

  “Do it, or I’ll shoot you instead,” he growled into my ear.

  Slowly, and with hands shaking beyond natural tremors, I placed my finger around the trigger. The cries of the man getting louder as my father moved my body into the position he thought was best to get a clear, clean shot.

  Without warning, a shot rang out.

  I screamed.

  I sobbed.

  I broke.

  My eyes were closed so tight and I prayed I could turn myself blind from it. I didn’t want to open them. I didn’t want to see what I had done at the hands of my father. Then his hands moved to my head, forcing me forward, forcing me to see.

  “Open your eyes, Little Willow.”

  Pressure in my right hand caused my body to jump, a pressure I hadn’t felt in so long. Slowly my eyes flickered open, as I started to move my aching muscles. Groggy from sleep, I turned to Tate. Color had started to slowly come to his cheeks with a rosy tint, finally coloring the grey we had been seeing since he was shot.

  Suddenly, I felt the pressure again that had woken me from my sleep. I gasped as my eyes locked on Tate’s hand, entwined with my own. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release.

  It couldn’t be… could it?

  My eyes moved to Tate’s eyes, which were still tightly sealed. Closing my eyes, I waited to see if it wasn’t just his reflexes. Sure enough, seconds later, it happened again.

  Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release.

  “My god,” I whispered in awe, my eyes trained on our entwined hands. “Baby, if you can hear me, please, please squeeze my hand again.”

  As if on cue, and with a little more pressure, Tate squeezed my hand three times.

  Tears built, my heart quickened against my chest, and the flood gates opened. Tears streamed down my face like a never ending waterfall as I watched Tate’s hand squeeze mine.

  With his hand still in mine, I leaned over and pressed the call button on the wall, hoping Jenna would get here quickly to see exactly what I was seeing.

  “Hey, hon. You called?” Jenna’s cheery voice quickly wavered the moment her eyes locked onto mine. “Tell me what’s going on, sweetie,” she said as she made her way to my side.

  “Watch,” I whispered.

  “Tate. Baby, squeeze my hand if you can hear my voice,” I said in a collected voice.

  Just like that, Tate squeezed my hand with a little more pressure than before. My eyes darted to Jenna as I noticed her wiping away a stray tear from her eye.

  “I’ll get Dr. Carter,” she whispered gently as she scurried out of the room.

  The room fell silent as my eyes never left Tate’s face, soaking in his features, which had softened this morning. He was looking more normal, more like he really was just sleeping and not healing from a gunshot wound to his torso.

  I watched as goosebumps covered the smooth skin of his hand. Instinctively I ran my nose over each and every little goose pimple, inhaling as I went along.

  A soft moan escaped Tate’s dry lips as I placed a tender kiss against the palm of his hand, the machine that read his heart rate beeping faster. My heart fluttered at his natural reaction, so I did it again. I placed soft and tender kisses over every inch of skin on his palm, basking in the sound of his heart rate raising with every kiss.

  “Low.” He groaned, his voice gravelly and cracking as he tried to repeat my name.

  “I’m here, baby,” I whispered, squeezing his hand. I smiled as I felt him squeeze my hand back.

  “I believe we had some movement?” Dr. Carter’s voice rang out into the room.

  Smiling softly, I nodded, never taking my eyes off Tate.

  “Let’s take a look, shall we?” he said, moving over to Tate’s bedside, checking his vitals. “Tate, I’m Dr. Carter, you’re in hospital. I’m just going to shine a light into your eyes, okay, buddy?”

  A deep and husky groan fell from Tate’s lips the minute the light hit his eye, the pressure of his hand becoming stronger as he squeezed.

  “Sorry, Tate,” Dr. Carter apologized softly. “Everything looks good.” He turned to me, continuing. “He could be like this for a few hours, maybe a couple of days. He just needs time to wake from the sedation, I have no doubt he’ll drop in and out, so don’t worry if he suddenly stops squeezing your hand. He’s making good progress.”

  With a smile and Tate’s chart, Jenna and Dr. Carter left the room; in their place was Tate’s mom and Neva.

  “What’s wrong?” Lorena asked, her face filled with panic.

  “There’s nothing wrong.” I smiled. “He’s waking up.”

  “Oh god!” Neva cried, running to my side and pulling me into a hug.

  “Here,” I said, grasping Neva’s hand and placing it within her brothers. “Talk to him, he can hear you. He was squeezing my hand.”

  “Tate? Tate, it’s me, Neva. Can you hear me?” she asked, leaning in close to her brother. “Oh… wow,” she whispered after a beat, staring at his hand. “He squeezed my
hand, he can hear us!”

  My gaze drifted back to Lorena, who stood in utter shock, her body unmoving, I couldn’t tell if she was even breathing. The only indication was her bottom lip. It trembled like a child’s as she tried to hold in the emotion.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, standing from the confines of the chair and walking over to Tate’s mom. “He’s going to be fine.”

  I tried to sound reassuring, although I wasn’t sure I did. I was so wrapped up in Tate, so wrapped up in hiding all of my lies that what Tate’s mom was going through didn’t even flutter through my mind. My god, this woman had been through it all. From her husband being ripped away from her far too soon to her daughter’s PTSD to Neva being taken by the man who had claimed to love her. Not to mention the rocky relationship she shared with her son since any of us could remember. How she wasn’t a crumbling mess right now was beyond me. She was tough. Tate was more like his mother than he would care to admit.

  She nodded slightly, wiping her face roughly with the back of her hand. “Thank you, Low,” she whispered, a small smile gracing her lips towards me and her daughter before she slowly exited the room. She needed time to compose herself, something I completely understood.

  The way Lorena had thanked me softly stayed with me well into the evening. Colt, Zane, Logan and Neva stayed in the room with me for a good few hours, all wanting to be there when he finally woke. There were moments when I panicked, thinking something happened when Tate would no longer respond to my voice. Neva quickly reminded me what the doctor had said and I soon felt calmer as the evening rolled on.

  “We should throw him a party when he wakes up,” Colt piped up after a while.

  The room had been silent for around thirty minutes, all of us sitting in a comfortable silence as we just waited.

  “He’s going to be exhausted for a while, dude. But when he’s back on his feet and at home, we could always throw one then,” Logan replied, tightening his hold on a soundly sleeping Neva, who’d made herself comfortable on his lap.

  “I think he’d like that,” I replied, smiling at Colt for making a sensible suggestion for a change.

  “Think about all the women he would attract to the party with his battle scar!” Colt added.

  I sighed hard. I knew saying the word ‘sensible’ and ‘Colt’ in the same sentence wasn’t a good idea.

  “Is that all you really think about?” Zane fired at his twin, shaking his head.

  “Vag? Yeah, pretty much.” Colt laughed softly.

  “Baby, please stop the pig from talking about vagina. I’m trying to sleep,” Neva whispered to Logan.

  I chuckled softly at Neva’s sleepy comment, but quickly laughed louder as I noticed Colt’s eyes gleam.

  “Dude, she said vagina. There is a god.” Colt winked at me.

  I knew what he was doing, he was trying to deviate the subject from Tate, knowing it was a little more than we all could handle right now. We had no idea when he was going to wake up, only he was going to within the next couple of days. Colt’s distraction was just what we needed.

  “I’m going to grab some coffee,” Zane said as he stood from his chair, stretching his arms above his head, releasing a sleepy groan. His shirt rode up a couple of inches, gracing us all with some serious abs. Well, who knew? “Anyone want any?”

  “I need a really greasy burger right about now. I’m so freaking hungry,” Colt said, standing and joining his twin.

  “I’m going to take Neva home, she’s wiped out,” Logan said as he stood from his chair, bundling Neva tighter to his chest.

  “Do you want me to get you anything, Low?” Zane asked as he pulled me into a tight hug.

  I wasn’t expecting the personal contact from Zane. To be honest, the twins were never really around much. They were pretty much friends with anyone and everyone, always jumping from group to group. I couldn’t blame anyone though. They were funny and didn’t really congregate around drama and were pretty much lone rangers.

  “Um, no. No, I’m good,” I said as Zane squeezed me a little tighter before letting me go. That was… well, that was odd.

  With that the room started to empty, the last person leaving was Logan. Neva was completely out of it, softly snoring against Logan’s chest as he turned to me.

  “Will you call me if there is any change?” he asked quietly, trying not to wake Neva.

  “Of course,” I replied, giving him a small smile.

  “Get some sleep, Low. You look like hell.”

  Then Logan did something completely unexpected: stepping towards me, he placed a soft kiss against my forehead. I sat down, in total shock, in the chair besides Tate’s bed, my hand slipping into his as I drifted off into another bout restless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I peeled my eyes open for the third time, my eyes stung from the lack of sleep and the shitty overhead lamp. I was restless. I had no idea what had woken me this time, but I knew I wasn’t going to fall back to sleep.

  Pulling out my phone, I checked the time. 3am. Great. Throwing my phone in my pocket, I stretched my body, my mid-back cracking at the movement. I stood from the really uncomfortable chair and stretched some more. Looking around the room I spotted my glass jar sitting beside my suitcase. Out of habit, I picked it up and took it back to my spot beside Tate.

  Holding up my jar of hearts, I let the light from the overhead lamp shine through the glass, producing a rainbow of color inside. Each and every lie stared back at me as I watched the colors illuminating the jar. I sighed deep before placing my right hand in Tate’s once again, still studying my jar of hearts.

  “Low.”

  My head whipped around so quick I thought it might roll off my shoulders. I gasped as I watched Tate’s eyes flicker open and closed, my name a whisper on his lips.

  “I’m here, baby,” I whispered, placing a soft kiss on his palm.

  “Low.” He groaned out, his eyes flickering more. “Don’t shoot her.”

  Warmth filled my body at the mention of my name, but the dread completely over took my body when I realized the truth. He remembers… he remembers. Oh god. What if he remembers absolutely everything? My betrayal, my lies, the deceit. What if he remembers everything and can’t forgive me for the things I’ve done? I’m the reason Tate is lying in a hospital bed with a serious wound in his abdomen. I did this to him and I have no idea if he’ll ever forgive me.

  “I’m here,” I repeated.

  The instant my voice left the confines of my lips, Tate’s hand squeezed mine harder than he had over the last couple of days. My heart leapt and soared at the newfound strength he found, but, at the same time, filled me with so much fear of what might happen when he eventually came to.

  I watched in awe as Tate’s eyes no longer fluttered in limbo. No, they were wide open. Glazed over, but fully alert.

  “What. Ah.” He paused, wincing as he tried to speak. “Water.”

  The crackly whisper that escaped his lips brought tears to my eyes. Tate was staring straight at the white ceiling above him, seemingly still in his own sedated little world.

  “I’ll get you some water, baby,” I whispered, standing from my chair and moving to the table on the opposite side of his bed.

  His eyes never moved from the ceiling above him as I poured out a small glass of water. The only indication he even knew I was in the room was the flexing in his right hand—it was if it was searching for my touch.

  Stepping to his bedside, I placed my left hand upon the warm flesh of his cheek as I brought the cup to his lips.

  “Slow, small sips, baby,” I whispered gently as Tate sipped from the cup.

  He closed his eyes as if savoring the flavorless water within his mouth before opening them and staring at the ceiling once more. My heart fractured within the confines of my chest as he just stared, not saying a single word, not even glancing towards me. He wasn’t even acknowledging my existence, and I could feel the fear building in my gut.

  “I’ll get th
e doctor,” I said, slipping out of the room without a backward glance in his direction.

  The minute his door clicked closed behind me, I sagged against the hard wood, the tears that had built behind my eyes breaking the barrier. The tears flowed down the flesh of my cheeks, dripping slowly down to the tiled floor I was staring at.

  “Low?” Jenna’s usually cheery voice was laced with concern as she stepped towards me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she spoke with a hushed whisper. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  “He’s fully awake,” I replied, the pain on my face clearly evident as I looked into her grey eyes.

  “That’s a good thing, sweetie. So why are you crying?” she asked.

  I couldn’t tell her I was the reason Tate was lying in that bed in the first place.

  “I don’t know. It’s probably the lack of sleep,” I said on a fake laugh.

  “Oh, sweetie.” She sighed, a small smile gracing her lips. “I’ll buzz Dr. Carter and let him know he’s woken up.”

  With another beaming smile, walked down the corridor out of sight as she went to buzz the doctor. I had no idea what I would do if I stepped back into Tate’s room. Would he tell me to get out? I would. Would he tell me he never wants to speak to me again? Why wouldn’t he?

  Gulping back the foul taste of fear that had coated my tongue, I turned and opened the door to Tate’s room. A small gasp escaped my lips as I watched a single tear fall from his eye as he stared up at the ceiling.

  “Baby,” I whispered, walking to his bedside. “What’s wrong?”

  My heart broke as a sob escaped his lips, his eyes still staring at the ceiling. I wanted to scream, I wanted to scream at him to just look at me, see me for what I am: the woman who loves him.

  “What happened?” he rasped, his voice gravelly from sleep.

  “I…” Shit, what do I tell him? The truth, I’ll tell him the truth. “You… you were shot, baby.”

  His eyes closed for a fraction of a second before opening again, his eyes no longer glazed over. No, this time his was fully alert, the realization of what happened clearly taking its effect on Tate’s sleepy mind.