I hope it is.
“You’ll get the chance to tell him how you feel,” she assures me.
More tears fall when Jackal’s hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes. Then he wraps me and Vera up in his arms. They aren’t the arms I want, but I’m so damn grateful for them.
When Lorraine rushes in, she makes a strangled sound. Jackal, somehow, manages to open his arms a little wider andpulls her in with us. Her eyes take in the blood on my hands and then snap up to meet my gaze.
“Your first instinct was to save him. You’re the one for him. Never run,” her voice is fierce and sharp, “always face this life together.”
“I’m not running, Nana,” I tell her. Grief and guilt try to carve its way up my throat. “I’m sorry,” I force the words out.
“None of that,” Lorrie tuts, “he would step in front of a train for you. At least it was only a bullet.”
A sound comes out of me that might be a laugh while Jackal’s chest vibrates with a barely restrained chuckle. I press myself a little deeper into the embrace of a family I never knew I needed because I never dreamed big enough to imagine it.
CHAPTER 21
RYKER
The pain hits me first. It spreads out from a point in my torso and radiates through my chest. I suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut even tighter as I let out a groan filled with pain.
A hand squeezes mine and then a voice reaches me, “Titus?”
I know that voice. I love that voice.
“Teach,” I barely get the word out because of how dry mythroat is.
“Titus,” her voice breaks.
I manage to peel my eyelids open and look at her. Tears stream down her face while she perches on the chair next to the hospital bed. I hate seeing her tears.
“Don’t cry,” the words come out rough.
Her hands fumble for a moment before she reaches for a cup of water. She brings the straw to my lips, and I take a grateful sip.
“Go slow,” she says the words softly.
When I pull away, I give her a small smile. “You don’t have to whisper,” I tease her.
She freezes and then shoots me a scathing look. All I can do is chuckle, but that makes me groan in pain. “Shut up,” she grumbles.
“Are you okay?” I don’t even try to keep the worry out of my voice.
I look her over and check her for any injuries. I don’t see any, but that doesn’t mean anything.
She grips my hand and squeezes. “I’m fine,” she rushes out. “What about you? How are you feeling?”
“I kind of feel like I got hit by a truck,” I admit to her honestly.
More tears stream down her face and her grip tightens to the point of pain. Not that I’ll tell her to let me go anytime soon. Hell no.
“Come here,” I hold up my arm, the action making me wince slightly.
She shakes her head fiercely. “No way,” she tells me. “I’m not climbing into bed with you.”
“You should,” I tell her.
But she doesn’t. She moves the chair impossibly close, like it will be enough. It won’t be.
