Page 90 of All The Ways to Miss You

forty-one

“Let me see her.” My hands flex anxiously at my sides as I grind my teeth.

Beyond frustrated, I stare into the stormy eyes of Cait’s father. I’ve been waiting for hours, and now I’m crazed, needing to hold her again and irritable because I haven’t slept in over a day. Linden left an hour ago, and he’s been the one mediating between us. I promised him I would sleep in the waiting room, but how can I when she’s right here, and I need to see for myself that she’s okay?

“Family only.” Her mother raises a palm with quiet authority.

“I am her family!” I shout, causing everyone in the nurses’ station to turn their attention to me.

I know what I must look like. Wide-eyed and jittery, I’m wearing Steph’s dried blood on my skin and shirt, my eyes are puffy and bloodshot, and my hair’s a wild mess. Compared to her parents, who are composed and dressed in business attire, I’m the crazy one.

Her mom waves for security. With the senator’s presence, the hospital has been swarming with them, but no way are they keeping me from Cait. Though he appears wary, her father stands unmoving at her door. He crosses his arms, unwilling to let me pass.

“Get out of my way.” I grab his shoulders and push him aside, and he stumbles.

For a fraction of a second, I glimpse Cait. She’s unconscious, laid out on the bed, a white sheet pulled up to her waist and tubes connected to her face and arms. I recoil at the shock of seeing her this way, so helpless and broken. I press forward again, more eager than ever to be by her side.

I’m a few feet inside her room when someone grabs my arm, flinging me backward. Because I’m exhausted and tired of this bullshit, I turn, pull back my arm, and swing. I don’t care who the hell I hit.

My fist connects with her dad’s face. His bones crack beneath my anger, and he staggers back, arms flailing. Her mom screams in the background. It’s not just his face shattering; it’s me who’s breaking under the pressure.

Several men in suits tackle me to the floor. With my face and chest pressed into the cold linoleum, I yell Cait’s name. Wild, I fight them, my arms swinging and legs kicking. My fingers grasp the air in her direction. I can see the wheels on the bottom of her bed. If I scream loudly enough, maybe she’ll know I’m here.

The security team wrangles me upright. My wrists are zip-tied behind my back before I’m hauled down the hall, my toes dragging behind me. They hustle me into an open elevator and slam my chest against its stainless steel wall, pressing my cheek into the cold metal paneling. Strong hands brace my shoulders while someone’s elbow digs into my back.

The elevator dings and the doors slide shut. But before they do, I take in her mother’s face. She’s standing on the far side of the hall. Despite her husband’s bloody broken nose, she’s smiling.

It doesn’t make sense—until it does.

In a moment of clarity, I realize she baited me when I was at my wits’ end. She wanted me to react. She wanted to get me kicked out and arrested. She wanted to get rid of me, because that’s what she’s wanted for years.

Linden picks me up at the police station on Monday.

“Motherfuckers,” he says.

He knows. He understands. Her parents will forever hate me because of what I represent. They believe that by loving her, I enabled her to prosper here. I aided her so she wouldn’t have to run back to them. They wanted her to fail and return home.

It shows how little they know or understand Cait. She’s strong enough to survive on her own. She never gives up. And she sure as shit didn’t need me to get what she wanted. She gets what she wants on her own. When we met, I thought I would save her, but she’s no damsel in distress. She’s a fighter, a warrior. That’s why I love her.

As soon as we pull away in Linden’s Range Rover, I say, “Take me back to her.”

“I wish I could.” He grips the steering wheel tighter, not meeting my eyes.

“Stop and let me out.” I reach for the handle but the locks click. I fire a death stare at Linden. I may have slept a little in my cell from sheer exhaustion, but I’m not beyond fighting my own brother to return to Cait.

He bypasses the city streets, heading straight for Lake Shore Drive. Today is gray and cloudy. Waves from Lake Michigan crash over the bike path that Cait and I run on. I watch them stream past my window as Linden flies down the highway. I anchor my elbow on the door and bite my cuticles.

“The Londons filed an emergency restraining order against you. That’s why they held you in jail for so long.”

“What!” I slap the console. In ten seconds, I’m exploding.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

“Things work faster when you have power,” he says.

I squeeze my fists until my fingers turn white. Seven. Six. Five.

“If I take you back, you’ll end up in jail again. And that will give them power to escalate things.”