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“Did I stutter?”
“No, no, you didn’t.” She wipes the tears off her cheeks, climbing onto the hospital bed. “Psycho.”
“I told you not to call me that,” I whisper, smiling. Talking feels like sand scraping my throat.
Nothing, though, nothing will keep me from touching her. My arm snakes around Leighton, flipping her to her side and hugging her to my aching body. I’m exhausted already.
The pain meds aren’t enough to dull the pressure in my wound. But she won’t see it on my face. Leighton’s been through hell, and I won’t add to her woes.
The last thing I want is to be another reason for her to worry.
So, I let her hug me, resting her head on my chest. Hugging her closer, my biceps flex. My sutures could tear. My IV could pop out. Let it happen.
There are doctors and nurses here to patch me back. It’s their job.
Mine is to take care of Leighton.
Of Leighton and—
“Fuck.” The world spins around me when I sit up. “Goddamnit.”
“What?” Leighton tries to straighten, to get out of bed again. She won’t. My arm is settled over her, and I’m never moving it. “Don’t hold me like this. It’ll take a second to call a nurse in here.”
“I’m okay.” As okay as possible, given the circumstances. I have to get out of here. “Rylan? I heard another shot back at the house. Where is she? Where’s my daughter?”
I had plans for Rylan. Ways to get her the help she so clearly needs. The help I’ve avoided giving her. I was so stupid, so naïve, hoping that if I just stayed single, everything would solve itself.
I’ve been treating dozens of patients. Hundreds. Encouraged them to open up, to stay in therapy even when things got uncomfortable. Therapy is key, I’d say. Your issues won’t go away on their own. Better address them. You’re here, let’s talk it through.
In my attempts to protect Rylan, I’ve single-handedly destroyed her.
And now she’s…
Leighton’s chest expands.
“Tell me.”
“She’s alive. She shot herself, but it wasn’t fatal.” Leighton studies me.
She sees nothing because I feel nothing.
No, that’s not true. What I feel is strange. I’m not relieved. Not disappointed, either. For the first time in my life, I’m not sure what I feel.
“She shot herself in the stomach, the same place where she shot you.” When I don’t say a word, Leighton continues, “The ambulance got to the both of you fast, and the bullet missed her vital organs. Yours too. You’re both safe.”
Another wave of tears spills out of her beautiful eyes. I hate that I have to bother her with questions. I’ll let her rest. Soon.
“Where is she? Can I see her?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
“I’m sorry.” Leighton shakes her head. “They handcuffed her to the hospital bed after she got out of surgery. I refused to say anything to the detectives until you woke up. Nothing implicating, that is. I told them I heard screams and called the ambulance from inside the house. Which I did, as soon as she pulled up. I had a bad feeling. Anyway, I lied to the cops. The way they see it, it was an accident. But they’re waiting for your testimony. Said once you corroborate my story, they’ll start making arrangements to hospitalize her. Since she attempted suicide and all.”
“You called an ambulance.” My brow furrows. “Why not the police?”
“I didn’t want it for her. I could tell something would happen to her or us. I had to call someone.” Leighton fists my hospital gown. “I said that my friend was hurt. That I can’t talk, and they had to come fast. They traced the burner phone somehow and came.”
“You didn’t want her to get arrested?” I’m a little shell-shocked. This girl will keep me on the edge of my seat for the rest of my life.
“Nope,” she breathes out. “Then I regretted it. I’m sorry, but I saw everything from where I hid in the kitchen. She was screaming and crying, and I was so scared for you.”
