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She nodded.
I helped her to sit propped up on pillows before I grabbed her a fresh glass of water and the pills. Handing them to her, I asked, “What would you like to eat? Pancakes?”
“I’d love pancakes. Can you add chocolate chips?” A spark of life came into her eyes.
“Stay here. I’ll bring them to you.” I made sure she had her phone next to her in case she was bored.
As I mixed the batter and pouring it onto the hot pan, my mind was swirling with everything I’d been feeling over the last twelve hours. Panic when she’d called me, her voice shaking with fear. I knew immediately something had happened. Something bad. I panicked because I couldn’t get there fast enough. Then, when I saw her leaning against that wall with blood trickling down her face, I felt immense shame and guilt. I hadn’t been able to protect her.
Each emotion weighed heavily on me until my movements felt slow and clumsy.
I’d just flipped the first batch of pancakes when Remi came into the room, wearing one of my T-shirts and nothing else.
“You shouldn’t be up.” My tone was harsher than I meant it to be. Softening it, I added, “I could have helped you.”
“I’m okay”—she grimaced, and her hand covered her ribs—“it’s painful, but I’ll be all right.”
I helped her to sit in a chair at the table. “Are you sure you’re okay to sit here? Wouldn’t you feel better on the couch?”
She smiled softly. “I want to be near you.”
I felt the pang in my heart from her trust in me. “After you eat, I’ll move you to the couch so you’re more comfortable.”
“Thank you for taking care of me, Colton.” She caressed my cheek before letting her hand drop.
I bet the movement hurt her ribs.
“You shouldn’t be up and moving. It’s too soon.” I moved back over to the stove to check on the pancakes.
“The more I get up and move, the better I’ll feel.” I heard the smile in her voice. It was her sweet optimism that made me fall for her.
I shot her a disbelieving look over my shoulder. “I think it’s the opposite. You should take it easy the first few days.”
She smiled sheepishly. “I’m not great at keeping still.”
“How can you be okay after what happened?” I kept my gaze on the pan, not wanting her to see the emotions I was positive were etched on my face.
I didn’t hear her move, but I felt her hand on my back, and I turned, capturing her wrist in my grip. “Why are you moving? You should be—”
“Resting?”
I nodded tightly.
She smiled. “I’m okay, Colton. What happened wasn’t your fault.”
I felt like she could see right through me, the emotions I thought I’d been hiding from her. The pain, the guilt, the shame. “I couldn’t protect you. I wasn’t there.”
Turning from her concerned gaze, I removed the pancakes from the heat, piling them on a plate before pouring new batter. I needed to focus on feeding her.
“You can’t always be next to me. That’s not realistic.”
My shoulders tightened at her accurate description. “That’s not it. I felt hopeless when you called. I was too late.”
I turned in time to see her forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Colton. What happened to me has nothing to do with you or your past.”
The emotions swirled faster and tighter until it felt like a tornado inside. “Then why does it feel like it has everything to do with it? I screwed up. I wasn’t focused. I didn’t put the pieces together sooner. I was so eager to close the case; I was all too happy to blame everything on Corey. We didn’t question him as intensely as we would another suspect. Chief wanted me to go easy on him. Maybe if I hadn’t listened, he would have said he wasn’t responsible for Max’s bar.”
