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Was this my penance for ruining him? Would I spend the rest of my days in this dark abyss with only his voice to keep me company.
“Baby, look at me. Please.”
The way his voice cracked was the catalyst I needed to pull myself out of the all encompassing fog.
There he stood. Light illuminating his dark silken hair like some sort of halo. Those mesmerizing chocolate eyes with his impossibly long lashes. His uncharacteristically pale skin contrasting against the smeared kohl lining his eyes.
The face that followed me in my dreams and waking fantasies. The one I missed more than anything, but also couldn’t escape.
He wasn’t real though. Him, here with me now, was all the proof I needed that I was dead.
Whether I was in heaven or hell, that remained to be seen.
Even though the real Colt would never hear these words, I needed to get them off my chest. To alleviate some of the crushing guilt of the past. So much regret weighed on me. I should have tried harder. I should have been more for him. I should have loved him the way he deserved.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I tried to fix it. I wanted to fix it. I love you,” I cried before bowing my head in defeat. “I never stopped loving you, Princess.”
The beeping sound from before returned. So, too, did that strange floating sensation.
Man, being dead was a fucking trip.
30. “Something In The Orange”
Colton
Navigating the sterile hospital corridors, a sense of dread weighed upon me as though I were being escorted to the gallows rather than to Gray’s surgeon. The doctor appeared just as detached as he had sounded over the phone, countless hours ago now.
I nodded dutifully as he meticulously detailed every aspect of Gray’s procedure, though I barely registered a word. Fatigue and shock were finally catching up to me, my focus instead hijacked by a minuscule piece of spinach wedged between the good doctor’s front teeth.
Eventually, his mouth stopped moving, and he peered at me expectantly.
“Sorry, did you say something?”
Dr. Whatshisface barely suppressed an eye roll, his expertise clearly residing in the surgical arena rather than the personality department. A nurse offered a sympathetic pat on my arm, though it was unclear whether it was meant as an apology for the douchey doctor or because I obviously hadn’t absorbed a single word he’d said.
“Dr. Turnbull asked if you had any questions about your husband’s condition?” she helpfully supplied.
“Umm..” My mind went blank. Earlier, I had anticipated having a million questions, but now it didn’t even occur to ask if Gray was going to be okay.
“That’s okay, dear. I’m sure it’s all a tad overwhelming right now. Why don’t we take you to sit with Grayson while he’s waking up? Then, if you have any questions later, you just let me know and I can fetch Dr. Turnbull.”
I glanced up then, only to notice that the surgeon had already departed. I’d like to believe he said goodbye and I missed it, though I wouldn’t count on it.
“Mr. Ray?”
“Sorry. What?” Shit, I really needed to pull myself together. Who knows how many times this nurse had repeated herself.
“It’s fine, dear. You wouldn’t be the first person to be overwhelmed in a situation like this, and you won’t be the last. I was just asking you to follow me so I can show you to Grayson’s room. But if you need a moment, we can wait too?” she kindly offered.
My legs buckled, and I honestly thought I might faint.
Seven years.
Seven agonizing years since I’d last laid eyes on Gray.
The memory of our last morning together flooded back with a visceral intensity.
The scent of petrichor lingered in the air after the late summer storm. We were standing on the porch of our quaint cottage, savoring the precious memories we had crafted within its walls. Despite our excitement for our next chapter—mine in LA and his in college—the reality of our imminent separation hurt more than I thought possible.
