by W Winters
“He’s going to make it,” I tell her although my voice is tighter than I want. Wiping my eyes, I add, “He has you for a mom, how could he not make it through?”
My question is only answered with the click of the heater turning on. I get up to brush the back of my fingers along her cheek, making sure she’s not too hot, not too cold. The salty taste on my lips is from my tears and when I selfishly kiss her, I hope she can taste it. I hate myself for thinking it, but she never did like to make anyone upset.
I hope she knows I’m crying without her. I hope she knows I’m breaking. What good is a broken king if he doesn’t have his queen? I’ve always been nothing without her.
“You should wake up,” I whisper. “He wants to hear your voice.”
“Hey.” Declan’s voice behind me snaps me back to reality. Brushing her hair from her face, I stand up straighter and pinch the bridge of my nose to get myself under control before turning to look at Declan. He has to know I’ve lost it, but he doesn’t let on; he’s quiet as I gather composure.
“What’s going on?” I question Declan, finally turning around to see him slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. I should wear jeans and a black shirt like he is. They wrinkle less. Not that it would matter with the way I look. Disheveled and wrecked just the same, regardless of what clothes I wear.
“Just checking in.” It’s been weeks of the Cross brothers doing rotations. Jase is here a lot with Bethany and I’m grateful for it although Bethany’s been breaking down more and more. It’s killing her too. Three weeks is a long time for someone to not wake up from surgery. But she’s going to. Our baby will make it out of surgery with flying colors and then Laura will make it out of this. I have no other choice than to believe that’s the truth.
Declan stays in the doorway until I pull the chair around the dresser and closer to the one I’m sitting in. “Have a seat,” I tell him, leaning back and sucking in a steadying breath.
The constant beep, beep, beep never lets up as we talk.
“I found a letter in your room,” Declan tells me, then reaches in his back pocket. All the while my pulse stalls and my blood turns colder, knowing he’ll pull out the letter I wrote. “Care to explain it?”
He must’ve been snooping for something to find it. That’s my first thought, but then I forget where I left it and when was the last time I even looked at it. It could have been on the fucking coffee table for all I know.
“How did you get that?” I ask as a chill lays itself across my shoulders.
“I went to your house because you need more clothes and shit.”
I stare at the letter.
The deal with Marcus; the only way out. My explanation to Declan once I did what I had to do. I had to explain to make sure they understood. I knew they’d get it. They’d understand why I had to do it. They would protect her when I was gone.
I decided the day I bought the fan for little prince’s room. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time, so I started getting his room together. I was so sure I’d get everything done. I would have everything planned for Laura. She’d never worry again in her entire life.
“What’s this about?” Declan asks.
We haven’t talked business since the day of the accident. I’ve been waiting for them to confront me. None of them have.
Until now.
“It’s the deal I made,” I confess to him, feeling a prick dance down my spine, making it harder, straighter. When his gaze meets mine, I clarify, “With Marcus.”
Declan’s gaze falls to the linoleum floor and I swear the heat turns off just because I said the name Marcus.
“He made a promise to me. He would save Laura if I killed one of the Cross brothers.”
There was never a choice as to which one and Marcus knew it. Daniel, Jase and Carter have their significant others. Carter just had a baby himself. When their pictures showed, all three of them lined up, I couldn’t even look at the other two. I didn’t have to choose; Marcus knew because I could only look at Declan.
I tell the Cross brothers Declan is meeting at one place.
I tell Declan another.
I remember Marcus’s exact words: Pick a Cross brother to die. You do the deed.
One of the brothers. All alone. That’s the deal.
A life for a life.
“It took me a long time to find a loophole. But I did.”
“And this is it?” he questions, waving the letter before tossing it down on Laura’s bed. I don’t like it there. Something so impure shouldn’t touch her. It shouldn’t be anywhere near her, so I pick it up.
“He told me to kill one of you and he’d save her. He promised he’d save her first, so… so as far as the deal goes, it’s nonexistent. None of it matters anymore.”
“But this letter?” Declan questions.
“As far as I could tell, the only reason he’d have me do it, was so that the remaining brothers would kill me. I’m sure it was a test in one way or another. I couldn’t see clearly; all I could think about was Laura.” Just saying her name makes me close my eyes and grip the armrests. I would do anything for her. “I could have told you but then he said he would stop the motions that had started that would save Laura. I couldn’t tell anyone. I was trapped. So I agreed.”
“But this letter?” he repeats, more anger and impatience showing.
“I could never kill you. I could kill myself, but then he’d go after Laura. He said he’d be there to make sure it was me so it had to take place. I lied to him and said I’d do it.” My gaze shifts from Laura to Declan as I confide in him. “But I wanted you to kill me instead.”
“So… once Laura was well and Marcus had done his part, I planned to give you the address like he told me to. I’d go, I’d lift my gun and when I fired the blanks, you’d kill me. I would honor my deal with Marcus and by that point, Laura would be safe and healthy. And I wrote the letter with the intent of sending it the day of the meet. That way you’d all know the truth, so you’d protect Laura in case Marcus didn’t feel that I held up my end as best as I could. You couldn’t know. If you knew, he’d know. I didn’t see another way.”
“You thought I’d kill you?” he asks me with a dull tone, not even looking at me.
“If I raised a gun to you? If I fired?” I pause, feeling all the agony of my decision again. “I knew you would. I had to leave you the letter so you knew it was only to save Laura. She had a life here before I came back into it. She was happy. She loved it. She would find that again. I didn’t want you to carry the weight that you’d shot me. It was my decision and I needed you all to still love her. To still protect her—”
“You were ready to die.”
“To protect her? To end all of the bad shit in her life that follows her because of me?” As I speak, my voice raises and I hate myself even more. Whenever we’re together, bad shit rains down on her. It was the only choice. She was happy once without me; she’d be happy again. One day. And I would have everything prepared for her. All the money I’ve made, plus the house would be set up for her and our little boy. The Cross brothers would protect her because they’d owe me. She would be safe forever. It would have been worth it.
“All of this is because of me. I’d leave her the money and everything she’d ever need. You’d protect her. There are more of you than there are of me and I’ve already failed her so many times. She would finally be safe.” Maybe he doesn’t understand because he doesn’t love someone like I love her.
“If I’m not there… it was the solution to everything. And then this happened.”
“You could have just killed me,” he offers, looking dejected as he stares at Laura’s motionless body hidden under the chenille throw from the living room.
“I could never kill you.” My throat’s tight just thinking about that. “You and Jase … you’re family… you guys are the only friends I have. The only semblance of a family I’ve known for years.”
I try to lighten it up and my next comment gets a huf
f of a laugh from Declan. “Besides, if I did that, your brothers would kill me…” The half-smile on my face that matches his falters when I add, “And then she wouldn’t be protected. There are more of you than there are of me. And a family. A real family.” The last part hurts the most. She deserves that. She’s never had one, not since her grandmother died, but she has one now. I couldn’t take that away from her. “Our son deserves that too.”
“You’re talking like you aren’t a part of our family. Like you’re not one of us. When did that change? When did you decide to leave?”
“When the idea of killing you was something I actually considered.” Looking him in the eyes, it’s hard to admit it. “It was only a moment, but I considered it. I don’t deserve to be your family and—”
“Bullshit.” He’s quick to cut me off with a venom I don’t anticipate. “You don’t get to just leave. You’re still like a brother to me.”
“I’m sorry,” is all I can say, truly feeling like less of a man.
“So, that? That’s what you were going to do?” he asks me in a tone that makes me sick as he points to the folded letter.
“A life for a life. That was the deal. Mine for hers is what I decided.” I lean closer to him, making sure he looks me in the eye as I add, “I’d make that deal any day.”
He shakes his head, staring at me like he doesn’t even know me. “And here I thought you were coming to terms with killing me,” he says as his expression changes to one of sympathy and sorrow, “not that you were coming to terms with your own death.”
Beep, beep, beep.
The monitor is steady as I process what he’s saying.
“We wired the warehouse before you went in. We couldn’t let you go alone, and we had arranged for backup. We were ready to protect you if anything happened.”
“You knew?” Disbelief shows in my tone. Betrayal creeps in.
“Yes, of course we did. And Marcus knows we wired it because once you left, he told Walsh he had to stop the eavesdroppers and everything went out.”
“You knew this whole time.” I can’t fucking believe it. My hand scrubs down my face. “You fucking knew?” I snap at him, hating them for putting me through this shit when I was already suffering. I fucking died more and more every day keeping it all to myself.
“Carter wanted to know what you’d do. I told him you wouldn’t go through with it.” His tone holds condolences. “I knew you wouldn’t.”
“I can’t breathe.”
“Did you think we didn’t know?”
“How would I ever think you’d know?” I practically sneer, betrayal but also relief running through me.
“He played you.”
“And he didn’t save her.” The words are torn from me. “That was all that mattered. And he didn’t save her.” My anger doesn’t mean shit. The reality is that it didn’t happen. In another life, in an alternate story, I died to save her. But this is what’s real. I’m alive and she’s… Please, Babygirl, wake up.
“I’m sorry.” Declan’s words are the sincerest he’s been since he stepped into the room. His hand lands on my shoulder. “She’s going to make it.”
It’s quiet for a moment and I take the time to lean forward and hold her hand. As my thumb brushes against her knuckles, I keep praying she’ll squeeze my hand.
Any sign. I just need any sign.
“I came here to tell you I got a note from Marcus.”
Hate mixes with absolute contempt in my blood. I let her hand go, unwilling to hold her while I feel like this. He was supposed to make her better. Instead, now she’s here. I would have given him more for him to do it faster. Why didn’t he help her? He said he could help her.
“He wants to meet with me. Doesn’t say why. Just lists an address and a time.”
“I guess this is his backup plan,” I snidely comment.
On the edge of my vision, Declan shrugs. “If he wanted me dead, he could easily do it.”
My gaze doesn’t move from Laura’s lips, down to the curve of her neck.
“I never should have made a deal with him.” I finally look at Declan. “I never should have said I’d help him with shit.”
“You did what you had to do.”
“Hey.” The sound of Jase’s voice comes in along with a knock.
“You’re supposed to knock first,” Declan reprimands him although it lacks strength.
Jase glances at Laura but not for long. He never looks at her for long. I know what he’s thinking: She’s already gone.
Pulling up the final chair in the room, he drags it over to where we are and sits with us.
But first he puts a vase on the windowsill. A single rose in a simple vase. I take that time to calm down as best I can.
I watch him and I know he can see the question in my eyes. “She didn’t have any red roses in here. I thought a red rose… you should get her roses.”
He clears his throat as he sits down.
“You talk to him?” he asks Declan and he nods in response.
“Good,” is all Jase gives him in response.
Looking past Declan I question him, “You aren’t going to ask him what I said? What I was going to do?”
He shakes his head and says, “I don’t need to. I know you’d never do it.”
Struggling to feel deserving of his trust, I press my back to the chair and sit there, my elbows on my knees, my hands clasped in front of me.
“You might think we don’t know you, Seth King. But we know you. All of us do. And you’d never betray us.”
“I feel like I betrayed her.” I can’t help but give the statement just under my breath. She was supposed to be safe with me, and I couldn’t protect her.
“Bethany’s with little prince,” Jase comments, thankfully changing the conversation. “Did you think of a name for him?”
Emotions make my answer tight as I say, “I’m waiting for her to wake up.”
I can’t look at them when I say that, because then they’d see the doubt that breaks my chest in half as I look at her.
“Don’t get mad.”
I lift my gaze to Declan’s, ready to tell him if he feels the need to lead with that, then he knows I’m going to be pissed.
“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page,” he emphasizes, his hands in the air in a defensive gesture.
“If… if Laura doesn’t wake up and little man downstairs is released… He’s with us, right? He’s not going anywhere even if… Laura….” He has the decency not to finish.
“He’s my son,” I answer him adamantly with an edge of a threat.
“Of course.” Jase is quick to agree with me and Declan follows suit.
“I know, I know. I was just making sure we’re on the same page is all. Same plan. We stick to the same plan as before.”
“Regardless of what happens, I’ll take care of him. I’ll be the father Laura would have wanted me to be.”
I don’t like talking about her like she’s not here anymore, when she’s right in front of us.
I have to cover my face with my right hand to keep from fucking crying. It’s all I can do to hold myself together.
“Hey.” Jase keeps talking, like I’m not entirely breaking down. “You know adopted kids, they say they look like their adopted parents. It’s because of the facial expressions. When you’re around someone so much, you start to mimic the way they say things, do things, it’s what makes a person a person. So even though... biologically speaking, he’s... you know. He could still look like you and no one would ever know.”
It takes a long time for me to even breathe, let alone think about what Jase just told me. I know his intent was to make me feel better or distract me, but all I can think of is that in that picture, Laura’s not there.
After a long moment, I tell them, but I plead with Laura, holding her hand in both of mine. “He can’t be left with just me.”
Laura
I’m in and out. It’s the first time I’m aware of it. Awar
e of the fact that I’m in a hospital bed. Although it smells like I’m in a field of wildflowers. It’s wonderful, but I want to see Seth; I want to hold my son. I keep hearing bits of his voice in the distance and they’re talking about little prince. I just want to open my eyes so badly.
Trying to wake up has never been so difficult.
I struggle to listen and sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s all black. I’m not falling though, not anymore. There’s no dip in my stomach, no wind rushing around me. I’m simply still. Motionless. Waiting and unable to do anything but struggle to listen.
Sometimes it’s Bethany’s voice, sometimes it’s Seth. Sometimes it’s the nurses like it is today.
What are they saying? I swear my eyebrows pinch; I can feel it happening. Just wake up! Frustration is overwhelming until I hear their conversation.
“I’m telling you.” A hissed voice is hushed as she speaks. “It’s the sweets.”
My fingers move, I know they do. It’s only a centimeter at most. But they moved. Wait, what did they say?
“For the love of God, it was just a vial in her pocket, there was none of it in her system.”
Are they talking about me? I didn’t have a vial in my pocket.
“That was a good heart,” the second voice says. I got a heart. I have a heart. A wave of warmth flows through me from head to toe. Disbelief and elation swarm through me. The steady beeping corresponds to the pounding in my chest. I wish I could feel true relief, but I’m so scared that I can’t move, and I can’t speak. I’m terrified every time this happens… unless Seth is here. Where’s Seth?
“She killed herself on the table.” The comment is made harshly. All I can do is try to move my fingers again. Please, move, some part of me move.
“I still can’t believe she did that. I can’t believe that poor woman killed herself.”
What? No I didn’t. I try to swallow so I can scream at the woman making accusations that aren’t true but it’s so dry it hurts. Fuck, it all hurts. Writhing is futile, there’s no escape from my still state.
