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And I’ve felt her need more than once. I have to hope it soon overpowers her other need for answers.
5
I stare at the doctor,his words resting on my skin, refusing to sink in. They’re dead. I can hear Sarah next to me screaming her denial, outwardly rejecting the doctor’s claim. I turn my eyes her way. Find her head shaking furiously. “We did this,” I murmur. “This is our fault.”
“No,” she whispers, her face a mess, makeup smeared and smudged down her cheeks. “Jesse, no.”
“Yes,” I say simply. I’m unable to console Sarah. I’m unable to hug her. Because nothing will be okay ever again. Why? Because she persisted. I fought. I fought with all I had, and then I caved.
And now they’re dead.
The hole in my heart that Jake’s death caused is growing. “I have to go,” I say, my voice thick. I turn and walk out of the hospital in a haze of ruin, every inch of me in agony. Guilt. It’ll never leave me. More guilt to add to the endless pot of it. More to mix with the remorse still sitting heavy in my stomach four years after I lost Jake. How the fuck has he been gone four years? Where did that time go?
I start to hyperventilate, my bleak future that Rosie made brighter now desolate again. Air. I need air. I stagger through the doors and start gasping for breath, having to brace my hands on my knees to support myself. I feel her hand on my back. Sarah’s. I straighten and shrug it off. “Don’t touch me,” I warn. Every time she touches me, the guilt grows. Every time I look at her, my regret kills me. That will never change. “Don’t ever touch me again, Sarah.”
“Jesse, we only have each other now,” she sobs. “We have to be here for each other.”
“I don’t want to be here at all.” I can hardly talk through the ball of anguish in my throat, picking up my feet, forcing myself away. I make it to my car and scramble for my keys, juggling them in my shaking hands to find the right one, brushing at my cheeks in between.
I freeze when I hear the undeniable sound of a woman screaming.
Not Sarah.
I turn to find Lauren diving out of her parents’ car, running at me full pelt, her face a picture of devastation. She crashes into me, flinging her arms around me, cuddling me like I know she’s wanted to for years. And what do I do? I return it. Because what the fuck else can I do?
She shouldn’t be embracing me. She should be kicking me, punching me, screaming at me.
I killed our daughter.
My eyes ping open on a loud inhale, my fingers clawing into the material of the couch, but I don’t dive up in a panic, my exhausted body preventing me. “Jesus Christ,” I whisper, finding Ava asleep on the chair, the room dark. She’s still here.
My hurting heart settles a little.
Still here.
I’ve never in my life been so tired. I’ve been in pain. Felt grief. Tackled hate. All of it exhausted me, but never has plain fatigue made me feel this weak. I only laid down for a quick rest after we came home from shopping. What time is it?
Dragging myself to sit up, I bury my face in my hands, taking a few needed breaths, my lungs yelling, burning, reminding me I’m still alive.And they are not.Scrubbing down my cheeks, I let my eyes find Ava again. Everything inside is telling me to scoop her up and take her to bed. Be close to her. Feel her. And yet I know she’ll refuse me, and I honestly don’t know how much more pain and rejection I can take.
Tentatively, I rise to my feet and creep over to her, not wanting to wake her. I don’t want to bring her back to our reality as it is now. Not if she’s hurting like I’m hurting. I hunker down and let my gaze travel over every inch of her face. Even sleeping she looks tired. Drained.
Ready to give up?
“Please don’t.” I reach for her, taking advantage of her unconscious state. She won’t let me touch her when she’s awake. I realize she’s afraid everything will vanish with the coming together of our bodies, all of our hurt and troubles. How can I convince her it’s what we both need? “I love you,” I whisper, my voice thick.
She stirs, and I gulp back the hope that those words brought her round. That she heard them. Is responding to them. She sits up, rubbing at her sleepy eyes, and then finds me before her. Kneeling. A slave.
My hand takes on a mind of its own and pushes a strand of hair from her eyes. “Hey,” I say quietly. Will she let me take her to bed? Just to cuddle? Just to keep the demons at bay?
“What time is it?”
“Just gone midnight,” I say as I lift a little and push my lips into her forehead, inhaling every bit of her into me. She allows it. She allows me to kiss her, and just as I’m about to gently coax her into my arms, my mobile rings, stopping me.
There is only one reason I’d get a call at this time, and it’s pushed the building contentment away. “For fuck’s sake,” I mumble under my breath, grabbing my phone. “John,” I breathe, bracing myself, knowing it’ll be serious for him to call me at this low point in my life.
“We need you here.”
My muscles lengthen everywhere, making me taller in an instant. “Why?”
