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Her eyes watered as she looked at me, and her hand was in mine on the sheet.
“Are you okay?” The words barely came out, raspy like sandpaper.
“I’m fine.”
“Am I…okay?” I felt the gauze on my head and was suddenly aware of the pain.
She nodded. “You had a skull fracture that was putting too much pressure on your brain. They repaired it. Said you’ll be fine, that you don’t have any serious head trauma. You’re not going to lose your memory or have cognitive difficulties or anything like that…”
This felt like a dream, and I wasn’t sure if it was real. “Bartholomew…”
“Right here.” He came into my vision from the other side of the room. “You look like shit.”
I never thought I’d be happy to see him again. “What happened?”
“Killed the twelve demons. All the Malevolent that were dumb enough to stay. The rest ran off into the woods, but they’ll die out there anyway…so what does it matter. The girls were returned to Paris. Gave them some money to get home.”
“That was awfully nice of you.”
“You’re paying me back for that, asshole.”
I grinned.
He didn’t grin back, but his eyes softened slightly. “The camp is gone. Nothing but ash and statues now.”
“Fender said the same thing…then Forneus moved in.”
“Well, let’s make sure it actually stays that way this time.”
“What about the acid?”
“I took that off his hands.”
“Good. Now you won’t need to knock on the Skull Kings’ door.”
He smiled. “Never said that was off the table.”
I gave a sigh. “Your funeral.”
“You’ll give the eulogy?”
“Fuck off.”
He grinned then stepped away. “I’ll give you guys a minute. Something I gotta do anyway.”
Once he was gone, my attention was back on Constance. We shared a long stare. My thumb brushed over her fingertips, and I appreciated the color in her face. She wasn’t stark white and deathly. She was exactly as I remembered, with that small smile on her lips. “You saved my life.”
She gave a little shake of her head. “You’re the one who came back for me.”
“I couldn’t leave you there, baby.”
Her eyes started to water more. “You shouldn’t have…”
“You’re my woman. I had to.”
“Your woman?” she whispered.
I nodded. “The woman I love.”
She drew a deep breath as her eyes started to water more, until they filled the brim and dripped over the edge.
“I promised you I’d take care of him.”
Her hand squeezed mine, like she was at a loss for words.
“I’m sorry I let him take you in the first place—”
“You made the right decision.”
“But I still felt like shit doing it.”
“If it makes you feel any better…I would have done the same thing.”
It did. “Yeah?”
“In a heartbeat.”
She loved my daughter as much as I did—and that made me fall so damn hard.
“We’re together now. That’s all that matters.”
“I worried about you—”
“It’s over now. And I never want to think about it again.”
I saw so much behind her eyes, so much that she wasn’t telling me, but I let it go. “The last thing I remembered was you having a seizure. When I opened my eyes again, you were still going…somehow.”
“Because I knew you’d die if I didn’t.”
“Then you knew I was real.”
She nodded. “Whenever I see you…I know it’s real.”
I pulled on her arm. “Baby, come here.” I tugged her onto the bed and against my chest, secure against my lips. I squeezed her as I kissed her, the pain in my head numb because her kisses were potent as medicine. Just like we were in bed at home, it was just us and the sheets, the rain against the window, our two broken souls healed together.
“Daddy!”
Constance pulled away when she heard my little girl.
I saw her at the doorway, my brother and Bartholomew behind her. She burst into tears when she saw me, all bandaged up in a hospital bed, and she ran to me as quickly as she could. She jumped on the bed and crawled into my arms.
I caught her, my chin resting on her head. “Sweetheart…I’m okay.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Not anymore.” I rubbed her back. “The doctors fixed me.”
She pulled away. “But you have a thing around your head…and you’re crying.”
“I’m crying because I’m so happy to see you.” I pulled her into me and kissed her on the forehead. “Really, I’ve never felt better.”
I tucked Claire into bed, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and then waited until she fell asleep before I left. When I returned to the living room, Constance was in the kitchen doing dishes, and a guest was at the dining table.
Bartholomew had helped himself to my scotch, and when I stepped into the room, he raised his glass before he took a drink.
I took a seat at the dining table. “Wasn’t expecting company.”
“And you should know that’s exactly when to expect it.”
“Bartholomew, the food’s still warm,” Constance said without looking at us. “If you’d like some.”
