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Thirty
Finn
I’d donea lot of shit in my life.
A lot of shit that would undoubtedly see me spend an eternity in hell if hell even existed, but why was it my wife who paid for my sins?
As I sat outside the hospital room where she was being treated, Aidan’s hand remained on my shoulder as more of a physical restraint than comfort as I kept trying and failing in not losing my shit.
Jake was asleep, thank Christ, resting in Jen’s arms even though he didn’t particularly want to be there. I kept jumping up whenever a doctor came barging into the waiting area, praying that the news was for me, so I figured he preferred sleeping on her rather than on me.
I knew what a wild animal felt like when it had been caged because within these halls, my wife was without protection.
She was being treated by doctors I didn’t know, being aided by nurses my crew hadn’t approved.
She was in danger in more ways than one and there was jackshit I could do to protect her.
The keys in my pocket jangled every time I tapped my heel against the floor, and my knuckles were aching from how hard I was gripping my hands, trying to stop myself from strangling the next fucking doctor who came in here without any news.
“Conor’s on his way.”
I blinked at Aidan’s words, twisted to look at him and saw he was reading a message on his phone. “He’s finished?”
“Scanning the hospital staff for any enemies?” Aidan’s mouth firmed. “Yeah. He wouldn’t be coming if there was a problem.”
Well, that came as a fucking relief.
“He’s certain?”
“It’s Conor,” Aidan groused. “When ain’t he certain?”
Nodding, I muttered, “True.”
Aidan squeezed my shoulder. “She’ll come out all right, bro. You know she will.”
I didn’t know dick.
“Why is it that since we’ve been together, she’s been hospitalized three times and I haven’t even had to go to the doctor for chest pains?”
“Do you have chest pains?”
I scowled at him. “No. That’s the point. I’m the one who lives the high-risk, high-stress life, and she’s the one who bakes fucking brownies for a living and—” I released a breath as I reached up and rubbed my eyes.
I could feel Jen’s glower, felt it like her eyeballs were goddamn lasers, but I couldn’t look at her right now.
Couldn’t look at the judgment and have confirmation that I’d failed my wife.
Again.
“The first time was… well, I mean, that wasn’t like we asked for it.”
No. It fucking wasn’t.
Tension crept along the back of my neck and had me clenching my jaw as I thought about Callum motherfucking O’Reilly and how he’d set us up on my goddamn wedding day.
It was his fault she’d been hurt.
His fault.
