“She hasn’t runyet.”He sighs.“You’re not in the shape to leave. Will you please just trust that I’ve got this under control?”
I hate to admit that he’s right. I can barely stand upright, never mind chasing my wife. Although it’s a blow to my ego to admit defeat, maybe now it’s time to trust my best friend. “I’ve never seen you like this before,” I admit as I adjust the bed into a seated position, the soft whirring filling the room.
He lowers his hand, eyes averted. “What can I say? I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
“I remember it all now.”
His eyes snap to mine.
“When I was tied up in that wardrobe. It was like…” My brows knit. “All these memories came flooding back, like a four-dimensional movie I couldn’t stop. Before then, it was just nightmares, snippets, but this…” I swallow around a thick lump in my throat, my chest tightening and making it hard to breathe. “I remembered it all. Every single painful detail.”
Sinclair scoots forward on his chair, his long legs stretching out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His creased suit jacket pulls around his shoulders, and his loosened black tie sits at an angle, yet he’s never looked more alert.
I shrug.
While we’re friends through thick and thin, it’s still hard as fuck to admit I’m full of flaws. Flaws that make me human, but flaws nonetheless.
“Can I be brutally honest?” I ask, unable to look him in the eye.
“Of course.”
Dragging my lip through my teeth and allowing the bite of pain to ground the strange ache growing in my chest, I gaze into the distance while Sinclair gives me space to formulate my thoughts.
“I feel like the benefits of this friendship are a one-way street, you know? Like I’m just siphoning and stealing and dragging you down.” I look at him then, letting him see the pain in my eyes. “You’ve always been there to pick me up when I…can’t.” Shrugging helplessly, I drop my gaze. “And, erm, I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’ve never been strong enough to be there for you when you need it.”
Sinclair sighs, leans back in his seat, and stares at me for a beat before a deep breath inflates his diaphragm. “I almost wish you didn’t remember that night now.” His voice carries a hint of humor. “Look,” he says, tapping the armrest, “you have nothing to apologize for. You’re not dragging me down. I’m not good with this”—he gestures between us—“sharing emotions malarkey. But you know I’ve always got your back, just like you have mine, and if we have to take on a damn secret society and raise a little hell, then let’s do it.” Sitting forward, he holds out his fist, and I bump my knuckles to his.
“So you remember everything, huh?”
“Unfortunately, yeah…”
“Cecilia’s father?”
“He’s dead.” I cringe, looking away. “I can only imagine what Cecilia thinks of me.” A weak, bitter laugh rumbles in my chest. “I bet she can’t wait to run as far away from me as possible.”
“Don’t make me punch you again.” Sinclair flexes his fingers and then forms a fist. “Because I will if you spew shit like that one more time. Your wife is crazy about you. Today marks her first time leaving your side since you entered this hospital.”
Despite the shame heating my cheeks, his words fill me with hope. “You said you have her shadowed?”
“Of course. She won’t be able to run far even if she tries.”
A smile curves my lips. “I almost kind of hope she tries.”
Sinclair scoffs. “You always liked a good hunt.”
“Where’s the fun if the prey doesn’t put up a fight?”
He hums thoughtfully, then stands and pats my shoulder. “I need to arrange a safe place for you and Cecilia. Can I trust you to stay in bed and not run after her before you get the all-clear from the doctor?”
“Are you serious? If she runs away, I’ll chase her whether I’m dying or not. Trust me, I’m a way faster runner than the reaper when I want something.”
He crosses his arms and widens his stance. “I will cuff you to the fucking bed if you so much as move a damn muscle before the doctor says you can.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and punch me now.” I point to my jaw. “Right here. Go on.”
Unfolding his arms, Sinclair rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “You’re like a damn child, you know that?” He strides across the room, tossing over his shoulder, “I have to make a few calls and put the fear of God into your wife so she doesn’t get any stupid ideas of running away before you’re healed up and ready to chase.”
“Fine, take away all of my fun,” I call out after him as he leaves the room, but then I smile, feeling lighter than I have in years. I’m on the Bishop’s shitlist, but if I’m honest, it was only a matter of time. This outcome was long overdue. In the end, it’s all worth it to have her.
