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I manage to spend the day in the living room, reading on the new ebook device Saoirse gifted me. She had it sent over today with a fluffy blanket, wine, and some fuzzy socks. Callum’s been in the office or sitting in the kitchen on his phone whenever he doesn’t have a meeting. His presence has soothed me, even if I’m not fully back to where I was before.
Before Drake, I trusted Callum to keep me safe. After? Well, now I don’t know anything. Callum may have cleaned up the mess and kept me from being imprisoned, but I was the one who saved myself.
I’m used to taking care of myself, to being the only one I can rely on. Killing Drake isn’t different, yet it was all at the same time. He made me think I could trust him to keep me safe, gave me body guards and cameras, but in the end it was me. I saved myself just like I always do. I want to rely on him, to be there for me, but I’m not sure how. Not when I blame him for my guard being down.
The dinging of the elevator has me twisting to see who is coming in. The sudden movement hurts, but I ignore it as I sit up. Callum looks up from the kitchen table at the same time. When the doors open, his entire family floods into the living area. Even Griff is with them.
Paddy is carrying a large cast-iron pot and heads right for the kitchen. I stand to greet everyone, but Callum is over to me in a matter of seconds, pushing me back down on the couch. “Sit.”
His growl causes me to shake as he tucks me back in with the blanket.
Alana Murphy makes her way towards us, sitting beside me after hugging Callum. Her hand squeezes my shoulder. “How are you feeling, love?”
I smile at the term of endearment. It’s so sweet to hear from her lips, and to know Cal uses an endearment for me that his mom uses too.
″Better today,” I say.
″I’m glad. We wanted to come sooner, but Callum insisted we wait until you were feeling better.”
″Thanks for caring.” I inhale a large breath. It’s not intentional, the way all of the long breaths I’ve been taking have been. I’m not methodically planning my deep breaths to prevent pneumonia now. This breath is to stop myself from crying.
The crying hurts too much, it’s why I’ve been avoiding it and avoiding Callum. I don’t want to work up those feelings, even though I know it’s hurting him, too.
″Of course,” Alana says, kissing my cheek. “I’ve brought a roast. I hope you have your appetite.”
″I do. Thank you.”
Exhaling, my lip quivers. In just a few weeks of knowing her, Alana Murphy has been more of a mother than I’ve ever had. And somewhere along the line, Callum’s family has morphed into mine.
I murdered someone, and these people are still here for me.
I begin to move, attempting to stand when Callum grabs my elbow to help me up. “Thanks,” I say. “I need to use the restroom.”
He tilts his head forward to guide me down the hall as if I haven’t been walking for the past week. When we’re alone in his room, he kisses my shoulder. “I held them off as long as I could. I didn’t know they were even coming today.”
″It’s fine, Cal. It’s…sweet.”
″I can kick them out, love.”
″No. It’s nice to feel like they care.”
″They do care.”
I nod, because I know that. He sits on the edge of his bed while I head for the bathroom.
Their visit isn’t long. We eat at the dining table together, laughing and chatting, and then Mrs. Murphy helps Callum clean up and they leave. I sit at my spot on the couch as everyone trickles out.
Usually, I turn to alcohol, but I’ve been trying to stay away and stay sober. I never liked the feeling of being drunk, nor the feeling of being hungover, but since the alcohol numbs the pain, I gravitated toward it.
I glance at the clock, then stand to use the bathroom. It’s only four in the morning, but I’m up for the day. My lungs expand, the tightening sensation causing me to wince. Being up so early is partly because of the hospital schedule and partly because of the pain.
I inhale deeply, climbing out of bed. After I use the bathroom, I head down the hall to Callum’s room.
His door is cracked open the way it has been every night since I’ve been here. I decide it’s an open invitation to enter. My feet drag against the carpet until I reach his bed, climbing into the empty space beside him.
Callum stirs, then pulls me into him. His arm settles on my legs, squeezing them as he lets out a long sigh. “Are you okay?” He asks.
″Yes.”
