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I close my eyes, flashes of our struggle flooding back.
"I stabbed him with Colin's keys and hit him on the head with a vase."
James grasped my hand in comfort.
He murmured, “You survived him again. That alone is remarkable,” before saying something unexpected, “Ava, I'm so sorry. This is my fault."
Shocked by his words, I argued vehemently against this notion and pleaded with him to take back his guilt. With tears streaming down my face, I whispered, "No, no. This is not your fault. I am the one that went home with Colin. I led the killer straight to him. Colin's death is on me, not you.”
My eyes fill with tears as I realize the despair etched on James's face.
“If I hadn’t said what I said to you, maybe you wouldn’t have felt the need to go home with someone else. I would give anything to take back those words. I didn’t mean them. We should have been together that night," he says, his fingers caressing my cheek softly.
“I should have been there, and I am so sorry.” He confesses, pain evident in his eyes.
He tries to conceal it, but I can see it seeping through.
I stare at him, realizing the agony he is carrying. He hurt me, but I couldn’t bear to make him feel worse after what happened.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter if James was the reason I went out that night; Colin was gone, and it would always be my fault.
James reached forward to touch my face, his eyes filled with guilt and regret to match my own. He tried to mask it, but the anguish was visible on his face, and at that moment, I knew all too well that he, too, was carrying his own burden. The thought of Colin made me nauseous with dread and guilt as I remembered how foolishly my actions had led us both astray.
James deserved none of this blame; it was mine and mine alone to bear.
Suddenly, Everett and Sarah entered the room with a sweet bouquet of pink roses. Everett set the flowers on my bedside table while Sarah gently embraced me in a tight hug.
“Look who’s awake!” Everett exclaimed.
“Good to see you both,” I respond.
“It’s been so quiet without you. I finally got some quality sleep,” Everett teases.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” I chuckle.
I was glad to see my friends.
“How are you feeling?” Sarah asked.
“I’m ok. Sore. But I am alive.” I answered earnestly, and I was grateful for it.
We all chatted briefly about nothing in particular while waiting for the doctor to discharge me. Sarah and Everett carried my flowers like offerings to the car, positioned at the entrance like sentinels.
Sarah had thoughtfully brought clothes for me—black yoga pants and a loose black sweatshirt since I had nothing. James stayed behind to help me, his eyes not once shifting away from mine despite my inability to cover myself. His hands moved gently yet firmly to untie the back of my gown, my body instantly consuming its warmth.
I felt an undeniable pull towards his touch, wanting him to explore further than he did, but he remained honorable.
When I was dressed, the nurse wheeled me out to meet Everett and Sarah at the entrance. James sat beside me in silence, stealing glances out of the window, though still laughing occasionally at their tales.
I reached out and clasped his hand in mine, surprising us both with what it conveyed beyond words. He squeezed my hand tightly, and I rested my head on his shoulder.
He makes me feel safe.
And safe was something that I didn’t get to experience very often lately.
TWENTY-SIX
AVA
