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Texas faced Samuel and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Samuel, he’s here to see my father,” I said gently. “I told you I’m not up for company right now.”
The guy who I’d only been on two dates with turned his nose up at Texas before he looked back at me. “I understand, Maya. We’ll speak soon. Feel better.”
Feel better?
Like I was sick.
I wasn’t sick.
I was heartbroken. I was sore, angry, hurt, and now annoyed.
Feel betterlike it was only an illness affecting me. Like I hadn’t been put through a situation so devastating it would live with me for the rest of my life. I didn’t even know if I’d be able to go back to work. Would I be able to trust other patients? Would I be able to work with someone else?
“Drake, give us a moment,” I heard Texas say, but I was watching Samuel walk to his car while wondering what I ever saw in a man who could say “feel better” to someone after losing a person in their life who meant a lot.
He didn’t know what loss was.
He didn’t know so many people were broken over missing John.
He would never know what a good man John had been.
Feel better?
Really?
“Maya?”
Samuel’s car drove off, and I spun to Texas. “Did you hear him?” I yelled. He nodded, arms dropping to his sides. I snorted out a humourless huff. “Feel better, like this”—I pounded on my chest as tears brimmed my eyes—“acheof loss is something I can fix easily with a pill.” I gripped at my dress over my chest. “Like what I went through, whatJohnwent through was something small that could be healed in a few days. In a month.” I shook my head and more tears fell. “It can’t be fixed. It can’t be cured.Ilived through that. John didn’t! And now… now I’ll keep living through it as it repeats over and over in my head.” With the heel of my palm, I tapped it against my temple again and again. “I’ll keep remembering how I heard John gurgling, not knowing he was fighting for his last breath. I’ll keep knowing I didn’t help—” My throat closed over, and I whimpered.
“Maya, no.” Texas’s tone was hard and rough. I heard him step closer. “You were fighting. It ain’t your fault for John’s death. It was that fuckin’ cunt.”
I gripped my hair, head hanging. “I-I could have done more. I could have fought harder. Injured him more to get to John.”
So many different scenarios had played over and over in my mind about how I could have saved John. If only I’d been stronger, wiser, and smarter. They played over all the time.
Warm arms surrounded me, and the familiar scent of Texas invaded my senses.
“You did everything you could at the time,” he whispered.
I shook my head against his chest. “I-If I did, John would be alive.”
“But you could have been lost. You don’t know what would have happened if you did things differently. Other people could have been around, and he might’ve got to them instead. If you saved John, it could have meant ten other lives were lost. You don’t know, and you can’t keep thinkin’ what you did wasn’t enough. It was, Maya. It goddamn was.”
“It hurts, Texas. So much.” A sob caught in my throat, and I made a whining noise. I grabbed his tee and gripped the material as my knees grew weak.
“I know, baby.”
“It’s not fair,” I cried against him.
“It’s not.” He pulled me closer, holding me tighter. “Just hold on, baby, and let it out. Don’t hold anythin’ in. You got people to support you, to hold you up.”
So I did.
I held on and wept. Seconds or minutes later, I was swept up into his arms. I heard the front door open and Mum say, “On the couch.”
With my head buried in his shoulder and neck, Texas sat with me on his lap as I cried.
