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“Lottie!” Milo pulls back, concern evident in his eyes, causing me to wince.
Desmond’s gaze turns serious, realizing the extent of my injuries. He lifts my shirt, now soaked with blood from the knife wound on my side. “It’s deep. We need to get you medical care,” he states, urgency in his voice. Desmond turns around, calling, “Dom.”
Lyric looks at me, his eyes reflecting concern, and then glances down the hall before he takes off with Matty following close behind.
“What happened?” Desmond asks, his voice a mix of worry and confusion.
My mouth feels dry, and the words are caught in my throat. Am I mad at him for not telling me about Jani’s past? About a man I never met?
But it’s more than that. Sal died due to a miscommunication. I grapple with conflicting emotions, unsure how to feel. He sacrificed himself to protect me, and Desmond, acting out of concern, thought the worst. The bitterness of it all settles in the corners of my consciousness, adding to the weight of the day’s events.
My mouth opens and closes like a fish, struggling to find words to explain the chaos that unfolded.
Before I can utter a single word, Lyric’s urgent shout slices through the tension. “Desmond, you’re going to want to see this.”
“Don’t move,” Desmond orders, his concern etched across his face. I can only nod, unable to argue, knowing I’m losing blood at an alarming rate and my strength is ebbing away with each passing second.
I grip Milo tightly, tucking him securely against my side, refusing to let go. He smells like baby powder and home. I gently kiss his forehead and rest my own against his, seeking solace and strength in his presence.
“Charlotte.” Dom’s voice calls me back from the edge of unconsciousness. “Wake up.”
I hadn’t realized I dozed off, the pain and exhaustion finally catching up with me. Milo curls into my side, a small anchor of warmth and love in the midst of turmoil.
“She’s losing blood fast,” Dom states with urgency. “Someone grab Milo.”
“I’m not leaving her!” Milo’s determined voice rings out, his unwavering loyalty tugging at my heart.
I must be hurt worse than I thought.
That’s the last coherent thought I manage, but it’s okay, because Milo is safe.
As I slip into unconsciousness, the world around me blurs and fades, leaving behind the haunting memories of the bitter rivalry and the fierce determination to protect what matters most.
Chapter Nineteen
I wantto say I hate therapy and deny the usefulness of talking about my problems with someone else, but I’d be lying to myself. For many years, I held the naïve notion that I didn’t need anyone else, and that all I needed was good self-reflection, or maybe a trauma dump on a friend.
Except, that’s not really okay, is it? Friends don’t deserve your constant trauma dumps. Perhaps that realization led me back to Sara’s office the day they released me from Dom’s care. He has a little clinic downtown, and I took advantage of the only other nurse he has there besides Lyric, convincing him to discharge me.
I’m not a fool. I know my time is limited before the three of them come for me—Desmond first, I’m sure of it. I’ve been biding my time since I woke up with an IV drip and a machine beeping at me.
With Milo safe and sound, staying at Tatum’s until I’m well enough to figure out what to do with my life and the three men I love, I need to know where to go from here.
Yes, love.
The stitches in my side tug as I limp up to the door of Sara’s home office. Unlike last time, there’s a lot of activity. Shadows sweep across the windows, and laughter rings out from the single open window.
I’d almost forgotten about the holidays. I nearly pause and rethink pressing the doorbell, but in the end, I know my time is limited.
My heart pounds, the echoes of my decisions reverberating through my mind. The weight of my actions and the love I still harbor for the three men in my life is a jumbled mess inside me. I want to turn and run from the confrontation that awaits me beyond this door, but I can’t run forever.
I’ve been running for too long, evading my fears, my emotions, and the tangled web of relationships I’m ensnared in. Sara’s office beckons like a beacon of truth in the stormy sea of doubts. I know I need to face my inner demons and bare my conflicted soul to someone who can help me navigate this murky terrain.
As I stand there, I feel a sharp tug-of-war within me. Part of me longs for the simplicity of denial, to wrap myself in the comforting cloak of ignorance and pretend everything is fine. Another part yearns for resolution, for a chance to untangle the knots of my heart and find a path forward.
With a sigh, I firmly steady my trembling finger and press the doorbell. There’s no turning back now. The chime echoes through the house, a clear signal that my journey toward healing and understanding has begun, no matter how tumultuous it might be.
“Got it.” I hear Sara’s voice as she swings the door open. “Charlotte,” she says with surprise on her face. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
