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“Good,” he says simply, his eyes becoming heavy again. “I’ll haunt you for eternity if you hurt her.”
My smile isn’t strained. It’s natural. And it’s really fucking sad. “I’d never hurt her.”
Turning his head, he gasps for air, fighting to fill his lungs with the air he needs to keep breathing. Seeing a man so unwell is frighteningly sobering.
“You’re a good man, Billy.” I only just manage to push out my words, but I feel I need to tell him.
“No, I’m . . . a dead . . . man, Luke.” He looks at me, straight into my eyes. “I came to . . . terms with it some time ago. I think I was just waiting for you . . . to come along before I go.”
Jesus Christ.
I sit where I am for a few minutes, bewildered, until I can finally find the will to slowly stand. My legs are slightly shaky. I feel a bit disorientated, in another world, in a haze of shock, as I walk away from Lo’s husband.
I need fresh air. Maybe a drink. I’ll even take a cigarette.
When I reach a bench outside the hospital entrance, I drop to the wood and slump back, staring ahead at nothing. I’m trying to unravel what just happened, but my head is one big jumbled fucked-up mess right now.
I don’t know how long I sit in the cold going over and over the time I spent in Billy’s hospital room. The words he said to me. The strength through his weakness, his resolution. Look after her. I just told him I love his wife. He didn’t even flinch. If anything, he took comfort from it.
That’s all good and well, but if Lo won’t let me love her . . . then what?
Looking up at the heavens, I take in the thick clouds moving with pace across the sky. And I wonder, what’s God’s game? How does He justify His choices to Himself? I’ve never bought into the proverb God moves in mysterious ways. In recent months, I feel like I’ve had an onslaught of things happen that are forcing me to rethink things. From the very beginning, from the second I laid eyes on Lo Harper, I feel like I’ve been part of a greater plan. If this was wrong, if Lo and I were not destined to be together, then why would the Mighty One put me at the wheel of the car?
My phone rings and pulls me from my silent surmising of what makes the world go around. I think I could spend the rest of my days trying to figure it out and still not know. I sit up straight when I see Lo’s number. I’ve been gone for . . . I look at my watch. An hour? “Hello.”
I’m greeted with silence.
“Lo?”
She speaks with such calmness. “He’s gone.”
I shoot to my feet on a sharp inhale of air. “I’m coming.” I don’t build up to a sprint. I break out into one, tearing through the hospital to get to Lo. He’s gone. But he was talking to me an hour ago. My legs are working without instruction, my head ringing with his words. You’ll look after her for me.
I steam through the ward, panicked that she’s alone, and when I see her, I break down my run to a jog until I finally come to a stop. I try to read her disposition, try to fathom her state of mind. My answer comes when I watch her start to slowly fold to the floor, her strength becoming too much to uphold. Instinct throws by body forward, catching her before she collapses to the hard tiles. “I’ve got you,” I murmur, carrying her to the nearest empty room and kicking the door closed behind me, settling us on a high-backed chair. She cries. She cries so hard, my whole body shakes with her. She cries with an intensity that cuts me to my soul. She cries with such devastation, I can’t help myself from letting my own emotion roll down my cheeks into her hair. She’s hurting, which means I’m hurting too. More than I’ve ever hurt in my forty-two years of existence. The constant sobs are likely to imprint themselves on my brain for the rest of my days. I can’t fix this. I can’t make everything better for her, and it’s breaking me.
“I went to call his parents.” Each word is spoken on a ragged breath. “I knew it wasn’t going to be long.”
I close my eyes and pull her closer to my chest, remaining quiet.
“He said something to me.” She wriggles free of me, and I quickly use my available hands to brush away the sadness staining my cheeks. She doesn’t need to see me crying. She needs me to be strong.
