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“But, he’s…alive?” June manages to mutter.
The surgeon nods. “Yes, he’s in critical but stable condition.”
“Can I see him?” Silent tears roll down June’s cheeks, and I ache to reach out and wipe them away.
Magnus goes to her side and puts his arm around her shoulder, holding her tight and keeping her legs from buckling out from under her.
“He’s being transferred from surgery now. You can visit him in about an hour. But not all of you.” He shifts his gaze around the room. “Only one until he’s more stable.”
But it doesn’t matter. One person is enough.
I let out a breath of relief and when the surgeon has left and June is buried in the chest of a better man than me, I leave the room. I am not wanted here, and now that I know Coen is going to survive, I will distance myself from putting June through any more unnecessary torment.
Walking away is the best—and only—thing I can do for her.
33
JUNE
Idon’t take my hand off of Coen from the second I get to his side.
“Oh, Co,” I whisper and brush the golden hair from his brow. “What have you done?”
I lower myself onto the bed next to him, careful not to disturb him too much. I glance at our hands and wish he would squeeze mine back. Seeing him like this, it brings back a feeling of helplessness I cannot stomach. I would give anything to trade places with him. To be the one on the verge of death. I've only ever wanted the best for Coen, even from that very first moment.
I was just a kid but when Ifelthis anguish and watched as his shoulders shook, I knew I would do anything to make that go away. I didn’t have much, but I picked those stupid wildflowers and handed them to him, hoping the tiny gesture would make a difference. To show him that in a world full of darkness, there was some light.
I could tell he was resistant to letting me in, but I pushed and he didn't stand a chance to how determined I was to show him kindness. I needed him to know he wasn't alone. Not then, and not now. Not even when I thought all hope was lost between us. That flicker of hope had dimmed these past few months, especially the last week, but it sparked back to life when I thought he was going to die.
Nothing had ever terrified me more, and I might want to strangle him myself for what he’s put me through, but the thought of actually losing him, for real, was too much to bear. I would rather hate him and have him around than lose him forever.
What a fucking contradiction.
I sit there for a while, just watching him intently. I move into the chair next to the bed, still keeping my hold on him as I scoot it closer to his side. I rest my head next to his hand and sigh. “You are so easy to love, Coen Hayes, but Christ do you make it so fucking hard.” I kiss his finger and close my eyes, letting the steady beeping of his machines lull me to sleep.
Dozing in and out, I flicker between reality and dreams that morph into nightmares. Coen being shot. His blood pooling around me. Simon getting shot, too. Magnus and Dom next. Their bodies falling to the ground next to mine. My hands frantic to reach each of them in time to save their lives. But I never make it in time, and every single man I love dies and I’m to blame.
If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened. They wouldn’t have been in this situation at all. I was the catalyst that set this whole fucking thing in motion. I am the common denominator to all of their issues. I should disappear from their lives and give them a chance to turn this around. But I can’t. And I won’t. No—I claim I am not selfish, but I don’t know how to be without them. I once thought relationships were stupid, and I refused to get into one. I guarded my heart like a feral cat does a scrap it finds in a dumpster. But I gave in. I opened myself up to these men and allowed myself to be vulnerable and I fell for every single one of them. How could I ever give that up?
Coen’s fingers twitch and I shoot up to stare at his face.
His eyes dart back and forth, and finally, like a whole fucking eternity has come and gone, they open.
“J…” His voice is ragged.
“Co.” I grip his hand tighter.
“You look like shit,” he tells me.
I laugh and shake my head. “Thanks. So do you.”
Coen reaches down and tries to sit up but his arm gives out from under him.
"Here," I say as I reach for the remote control to his bed. I push a few buttons until I find the right one and bring him upright. "Is that better?"
He struggles to reposition himself. “Yeah, thanks.”
“I can’t believe you tried to die on me.” I stare into his beautiful blue eyes.
