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I wasn’t in control of them, any more than I could convince myself not to be sick when I hit the ground. Now that they’re out, I’m empty. Sweating.
Mason squeezes my hands.
Somehow, he’s still holding them. He’s supporting too much of my weight. It’s not good for his knee. My vision is fucked again. Fractured and blurred. It takes a minute for his face to be clear.
He looks…
Heartbroken.
“I’m not disgusted.” Sounds heartbroken, too. “And I understand why you didn’t come to me.”
The monitor off to my left beeps faster. I’m not sure how long it’s been doing that. “You’re not pissed?”
It’s not really a question for thirty-year-old me to be asking, but I don’t have full control of my brain.
“Make no mistake, Gabriel, I’m fucking furious. But not at you.”
“Great.” I take my hands out of his and brace them on the bed again. I want to go back to sleep for the rest of my life. “Then you’ll be able to accept that I’m leaving the hospital. You’ll get it now.”
Mason raises an eyebrow. He takes in my pathetic efforts at preparing to stand up and scoots the chair back to make room. “Get what?”
“That you can’t protect me. You never could. But more importantly, I don’t need you to protect me. I grew up just as fast as you did when Mom and Dad died.”
Mason frowns. “Jameson too.”
I move my eyes only to scan the room. Probably should have done that before I started telling Mason my life story. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I thought he was here. He’s the one who called me and told me to come back early since you were trying to check yourself out against medical advice.”
I have a vague memory of Jameson stepping out for coffee. Or a phone call. One of the two. “Well, he never came back.”
I remember the clipboard, and the papers. No hesitation on the rest of the signatures. The nurse can take it from the bed when she comes back. Mason stands up, hovering.
“Okay. I’m going.” Before I can think about it, before I have time to let my stomach turn, I push down on the bed as hard as I can and shove myself to my feet.
And fall directly into Mason.
My head spins. Something tears near my ribs. My face burns. He catches me without losing his own balance, which feels impossible. He’s hurt. Hewashurt. But now he keeps me upright like it’s nothing.
“I’m fine.” Except one of my hands hooks onto his arm, and everything about my throat aches. “I’m fine. I was fine before. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t want to say anything, anyway. It’s the painkillers.”
His hold switches effortlessly to a hug. The kind he gave Remy hundreds of times after the fire. The kind he gave Jameson even after they fought. The kind I stopped accepting around the time I started working the alleys.
“Gabriel, I am so sorry you felt like you had to do that. I’m so sorry that happened. None of it was your fault.”
I’m fine,I mean to say, but my face is wet with tears and Jesus, I’m tired.
“I don’t have a car.” I’ll just act like my voice isn’t all broken up.
“Lucky for you, I have mine.”
It’ll be another miracle if I can make it out of the hospital without having to lie down. “Seems like it would be best just to go home.”
Mason pats my back. “Your place?”
I shake my head, once, because it hurts.
“My place.” He confirms it with relief all through his voice. “I’ll have Charlotte bring Nate and Lydia. It’s better if we’re all together. Sit down a minute while I deal with these forms. Then home. I’ll take you home.”
