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She nods, her palms warming my chest where they lay. “Thank you.”
I exhale, maneuvering her, and start to walk us out of the hospital, my mind an absolute blur. I just want to make her pain go away, protect her from this fucking nightmare she’s trapped in. And I can’t. All I can do is watch as her world falls apart, and mine falls apart with it.
Because I’m watching the woman I’ve fallen in love with suffer.
Her pain is my pain.
I’m in fucking agony.
And all I can do is hold her, because the man lying in that hospital bed owns her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After collecting Boris and a few of Lo’s personal things, I drive her to my house. She’s quiet the entire way home, while my head is screaming, feeling like it’s set to explode with thoughts wrestling for pole position. How can I make this better? How can I ease her pain and comfort her? She doesn’t want to be alone, and I’m here, but I feel so fucking helpless.
I open the front door, and Boris scurries on past, his nose hitting the marble floor and exploring his new playground. Steve welcomes him with a wagging tail and a few yaps. “Can I get you a drink?” I ask, placing her bags at the bottom of the stairs. “Tea, water . . . alcohol?”
Lo shakes he head. “Do you mind if I take a shower?” She pulls at the front of her dress on a wrinkled nose. “I feel grubby.”
“Sure.” I gather her bags back up. “Let me show you to a room.” We climb the stairs in silence, the dogs scampering up past us, chasing each other. I smile at their obliviousness. How simple their lives are.
I divert past the room where Arabella stays, and past the next one too, where Todd’s currently lodging, bringing us to the guest rooms by the master suite. My house has never been so full. “Here.” I push the door of one open and place her bags on the chair in the corner, watching as she gazes around the fresh space. “The bathroom’s through there.”
She looks where my arm is extended and smiles. “Thank you.”
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I leave the room. “I’ll let the dogs out. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.”
I close the door and head downstairs, Boris and Steve chasing behind. After letting them out in the garden, I head for the bar and pour myself a generous Scotch, dropping to a stool and scrubbing my hands down my rough cheeks. “Fuck,” I curse quietly, slugging down half my drink. I put her in the room next to mine. The urge to continue down the landing and put her in my room was nearly overwhelming. I have to lie in bed tonight knowing she’s mere meters away, probably weeping. I just want to wrap her in my arms and ease her pain. My desires aren’t even sexual. They’re instinctual. I’ve never felt this before, and I doubt it will ever go away.
Grabbing my phone, I call Pops, needing to hear a friendly voice. By the time one of the staff has found him and he’s on the line, I’m on my second Scotch.
“Grandboy?” he says, gruff with tiredness.
“Did I wake you?”
“Goodness, no. I was just getting my groove on. We’re raving tonight.”
I smile, taking my seat back up at the bar. “I’m fucked, Pops,” I sigh, getting straight to the point.
“Figuratively speaking, or actually?”
“Figuratively,” I confirm.
He hums, thoughtful, leaving no words coming down the line at me. What’s he thinking?
“Pops?”
“Does she know how you feel?”
“God, no.” I slump over the bar. “I could never put that on her. She’s married to a man who’s on death’s door. She’s here right now, while her husband is fighting off an infection in hospital. You should have seen him, Pops. So fucking young.”
“He works in mysterious ways, Luke. Very mysterious ways.”
“No, Pops, right now I’m inclined to think that He’s just plain cruel.” How could He do this? To Billy. To Lo.
“How is she?” Pops asks.
“Destroyed.” It hurts me to even say it, let alone see it.
“You came into her life for a reason. Everything happens for a reason, Grandboy.”
“And what was the reason for you walking away from the love of your life?”
“You. I wouldn’t have you had my life taken a different direction. That’s my comfort. That’s a good enough reason for me.”
“Jesus, Pops.” I feel my throat clog up, and I take another swig of Scotch to try and wash it down.
“Tell me what you want to do,” he orders gently.
“I want to make her pain go away,” I admit. “Above everything, I don’t want her to suffer anymore.”
“Then focus on that. You’re caught in limbo, Grandboy. But sometimes you have to accept that doing the right thing hurts. Do the right thing.”
