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“Keep Jocelin’s phone by the bed. If I have to reach you, I’ll call him. I’ll leave your phone free for calls from your family or the hospital. But call me in the morning when you wake up. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Gunnar, I mean it. Promise you’ll call me in the morning.”
I nod, though he can’t see it. “Yes. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Okay. Put Jocelin back on the phone.”
I hold out the phone to Jocelin, and he takes it, listening for a minute before replying. “Okay. Thank you, Tom. We’ll call you in the morning. Goodnight.” He hangs up and holds out his hand. “Come,mon cœur. I’m under strict orders to get you into bed and make sure you sleep.”
He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I shove to my feet and stumble up the stairs, every limb heavy. Jocelin coaxes me into the bathroom to brush my teeth, then helps me undress and get into bed. I can’t remember the last time I felt this drained. He climbs in next to me, and I roll toward him, tucking my face into his chest. “Hold me? Please?”
“Of course,mamours. Come here.” His comforting arms wrap around me, and I close my eyes. What if I lose him? What if something horrible happens, and I never tell him how I feel? I grip the back of his shirt. “Joce. I want to tell you something.”
He strokes my hair and holds me tighter. “Shhhh. Go to sleep. You can tell me in the morning.”
I don’t want to wait, but it’s a struggle to speak. “Please.”
“Gunnar. It’s alright.” Jocelin rubs my scalp and caresses my back. “Go to sleep,mon chéri.”
My fatigue is too strong, and Jocelin’s soothing strokes calm my jangled nerves. Despite everything, I’m asleep in minutes.
39
Gunnar
It’snotevenfive,and I’m wide awake, staring out the window at the darkness. Jocelin’s arm is draped over my ribs, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck. It’s odd being the little spoon, but having him wrapped around me is keeping me from flying apart. I truly don’t know what shape I’d be in if he wasn’t here being my rock.
I reach for my phone, curious what time it is, and the moment he feels me move, he tightens his arm around me. “Gunnar?”
“Just checking the time, babe. Go back to sleep.”
He yawns and kisses the back of my neck. “Mmm. Only if you do.”
If only I could. He must feel the tension in my body. “Mmm. That’s what I thought. Want me to make tea? We can get dressed and go back to the hospital if you want.”
So that’s what we do, stopping at the cafe in the lobby for muffins to go with our hot beverages, and then we’re back on Bjorn’s floor, pacing the little waiting room. At seven, I call Tom and check in. The conversation is short since there isn’t any news, and he makes me promise to call him again later. Astrid and Gary show up around eight, and by eight thirty, Erik and Jules arrive. From that point on, things are eerily similar to yesterday, and I keep forgetting it’s a full twenty-four hours later. I can’t sit still, and I feel like I’ve walked at least twenty miles in laps around the floor. Jocelin forces me to go with him to the cafeteria for lunch, even though I’m not hungry. I manage to drink some soup, but the need to be close to Bjorn in case he wakes up is too strong.
Time creeps by, and as the day wears on with no change to Bjorn’s condition, my control slips further and further out of reach. I try again to sit, dropping my head into my hands, willing Bjorn to wake up. A hand settles on my shoulder, and I itch to shake it off, even that slight touch too much input on my already frayed senses. “Can I get you anything,mon cœur?”
I thrust to my feet. “No! God! Stop asking me that!” Jocelin steps back, his eyes wide, and I reach for him, pulling him against me. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Joce. I’m sorry.” I kiss the side of his head and rock back and forth. “I didn’t mean to shout.”
His arms wrap around me, and as he relaxes against my chest, I try to relax with him. “I know you didn’t. It’s alright.” But it’s not. It’s not alright at all, but I can’t seem to rein in my outbursts, and that’s not good.
Astrid puts her hand on my arm. “Gunnar, go outside and get some air. You need to calm down.”
I step back from Jocelin and nod. “Yeah. Okay.” Every part of me is vibrating with tension.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Jocelin steps toward the elevators, but I shake my head.
“No. It’s okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I just need to clear my head.” I don’t wait for his reply, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, flying out the front doors and into the parking garage to pace in the dark next to my car. Rage bubbles up in my chest. How could Bjorn do this to us? He knew damn well how Mom died, and yet he decided to become a cop anyway. And then went into S.W.A.T. What the fuck was he thinking? And now, we’re back in the same situation again because of his selfish choice. Barely contained fury pours out of me. I can’t do this again. How can I possibly do this again? I let out a roar and slam my fist against the passenger side window of the Mustang. The glass doesn’t break, but the intense pain gives me enough focus to realize what I’ve done. I stare at the car that once belonged to my dad, then Bjorn, and as I stare at my already swelling knuckles, I start to shake. Slowly, I walk back into the hospital and find the men’s room, rinsing my hand under cold water and wrapping it in paper towels. I pull out my phone and text Jocelin.
Me: I want to go home. Please, can you drive me home?
Jocelin: On my way down. Are you okay?
Me: No
