Page 62 of Signed For Him

Way to go, man. Way to fucking go.

And then I notice the hospital admittance band on her wrist and want to stab myself over again for leaving her and not finding another way out. The baby. The miscarriage.

My heart breaks more for her than myself, knowing that she's had to go through it all without me by her side.

I seriously need to see her face now. I need to know she's OK.

I lift my hand, which takes much more effort than I'd like, and place it on her head, my finger roaming through the loose and untidy curls. She stirs and pushes my hand away, which does nothing but force an abrupt and very rough sounding laugh out of me.

Charlie does not like to be woken up.

"Don't wake her yet." I didn't even notice that Crow was in here. I'd been so hyper focused on Charlie that I hadn't even thought to look around the room once she was in my view.

He looks as tired and worn out as I feel.

"Is she alright?" I ask, my voice quiet.

Crow raises a single eyebrow in my direction.

"She's fucking mad, dude and she's got every right to be. I'm pretty fucking angry at you myself as it happens," he hisses out as he leans towards me, his eyes filled with fury.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. As if what I need right now is for them both to be pissed at me.

"I didn't think I had a choice," I tell him, knowing it's a lie and knowing damn well that he knows that too.

"Oh, fuck off with your bull, man. You were the one that put the fucking tracker in her. You knew that you could have halted the semi heroic, all together stupid suicide mission for a few more minutes and someone would be there."

We still hadn't told her that I'd done that. I did it the night before they'd come to get her from that hotel. God, it seems like a lifetime ago and yet like only yesterday too. How is that possible?

I hate even thinking about the things I'd done to her there, the positions I'd put her in all because I cared for her and my dad knew that she was my weakness.

"It's better for her if I'm not around. There's no danger then," I tell him, refusing to look at him as I speak, instead choosing to watch Charlie's still hair on my lap.

"He's dead. Your father. I killed him myself. Most of his band of bastards are dead too. No one’s coming for you. Or her. You can be with us. She doesn't give a shit about what you did, and you damn well know it, now gather your fucking balls and be there."

He's young and yet wiser than I've ever been.

"Look, I'm sorry that you're mad I hurt her-"

"That's not why I'm pissed. Well, not all of it." He huffs out as he wipes his palms along his jeans.

"I'm fucking angry because you left us both. You promised both of us that you'd be there. You promised both of us a life and you fucking left. You left and let her try to kill you with no consideration for how the fuck it would leave us. She can't be with you without me, just like she can't be with me without you. I don't love you the way she does, but you're one of the only people I don't have to bullshit around so until both of us tell you to fuck off then you fucking stay put and pull your shit together. Got it?"

He's right. I know he's right and so does he. He's a cocky bastard, much like myself, and when I found that we actually got in better than I'd anticipated, I found something in him that I didn't want to let go of. Not a love like I had for Charlie but a bond, a connection, a friendship that I knew would last. I just didn't realise that he felt the same way.

"Alright, enough with this sappy shit. Can I wake her up now?" I ask as I cover the shake in my voice with a cough that just about kills my damn lungs.

Rule one after a self-inflicted stab wound to the chest - Do not cough.

"Go on then. Her mood's on you though," he tells me with a sigh as he sits back in the chair and watches on with keen interest - probably wondering how I'm going to go about waking her without getting a fist to the face.

"Charlie, you gonna wake up, baby?" I ask as I stroke her hair, willing her to wake up so I don't have to go any longer without seeing the face that keeps me sane.

She fidgets a little, a small and weak groan escaping her lips, but shows no sign of waking.

"Baby, wake up," I tell her again, this time allowing my voice to be an octave lower and louder.

And then she does wake and true to form, she whacks me right in the ribs, sending a shooting pain through me.

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