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Not even when I hit him and blame him for interrupting us that night in the grocery store.
For taking me back home.
I blame him for being the reason I found out the truth about my ill-fated relationship.
I blame him for blindly going to Nikolai’s aid when he didn’t have to.
I’m illogical and emotional, and a mess of epic proportions.
But my brother stays by my side the whole time, offering his support silently, taking the lash of my words with understanding.
Killian comes and stitches him up in my room. When I ask him if he’s heard any news, he glares at me and then leaves without a word.
So imagine my surprise when I wake up early the next morning after a restless sleep and Jeremy says, “Do you want to go to the hospital?”
“You…you’ll really let me?”
“If I don’t, you’ll sneak out behind my back and get yourself in trouble. I’m going to see Nikolai anyway, so you can look from afar.”
“Is he…okay?”
“Nikolai or Creighton?”
I swallow. “Both?”
“Thankfully, Nikolai didn’t slice his throat too deeply. Creighton, however, is in the ICU. He has an extensive hemorrhage and is in a coma. The next two days will be important to decide whether he lives or dies.”
I slap my palm to my mouth and shake my head frantically.
No. This can’t be true.
Jeremy wrenches my hand away. “Snap the fuck out of it, Annika. Either you crumble and wither away, and mark my words, if you do, I will lock you the hell up here with no way out. Or you take a shower, change your clothes, and meet me downstairs so we can go to the hospital together. There will be no third option.” Then he heads to the door. “You have fifteen minutes.”
I’m on autopilot as I take the quickest shower in history and blank out all my thoughts.
By the time I change my clothes and go downstairs, I find Jeremy waiting for me with one hand in his pocket and the other scrolling through his phone.
He nods in approval and then we get into the car.
I’m better and worse during this car ride. Better, because I’m not crying like a baby, even though I want to.
Worse, because at least I was numb last night.
Now, I can feel every prick of emotion. Every heartbeat and every screwed-up memory.
I can recall in vivid detail the way I held that gun, the way I pressed the trigger. I can feel the doomsday sensation that overtook my head.
It all happened too fast and yet too slow.
Jeremy keeps driving in silence, giving me all the space I need. Even if the sound of the engine becomes suffocating and the roads blur into one.
I lean my head against the window and breathe so heavily that the glass fogs up.
“If we see any police, we’re getting you the hell out of there,” Jeremy tells me, eyes on the road. “I don’t have a good feeling about the fact that they’re not involved yet. Landon and Remington were there. Surely, they would’ve testified against you. Good thing I took your gun when we left, so there’s no incriminating evidence.”
“But I did it,” I murmur. “I shot him.”
“Listen to me and listen to me well, Anoushka.” He tilts his head to the side. “You are not throwing your life away for this. You thought you had no choice, which is why you shot him. That’s the only version we’ll go with.”
