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I could have lost this. Lost him. I’d have given it up. Given them up, and for what?
My parents who are bigots and never cared about what I want. And a job I don’t even know if I like, my first job—just a step in a career I still haven’t figured out. I don’t know what kind of job I would like yet—but I do know I want these two people in my life, and I’d do anything to be with them.
“J,” Jet rasps and I jerk forward, dragging Candy with me.
“What is it?”
“When can I leave?”
Candy makes a tiny sound of distress. “Not yet, baby.”
“He has to stay a few days. He’s lost a lot of blood,” the doctor says, frowning.
“J,” he says again, and it’s a blow to my heart.
All I want is to take him home.
“They want to keep you a bit longer,” I say, hating the disappointment in his eyes. “But soon we’re taking you away from here.”
“Okay.” His hands are t
rembling on top of the sheets. I take them in mine and squeeze them.
“We will be here,” I tell him. I hold his gaze, see it clear a little. “We’re not leaving you here on your own.”
Candy nods and goes around the bed to sit on the other side of him. “Can’t get rid of us. We’re here to stay.”
His eyes flick from her to me and back. It’s painful to see how relieved he looks. That’s what bothered him? Maybe he’s afraid to be alone after the attack. I wouldn’t blame him.
All the nightmares from these past years, they all make sense now. What a burden to bear alone. But now…
“You’re not alone anymore.” I stare at him until he bites his lip and his eyes fill up again. “Never again. Candy and I… we need you, Jet. More than anything in the world. You know that, right?”
“You mean everything to us,” Candy adds, and we lean over the bed, mindful of the tube and bandages, and wrap him up in the cocoon of our bodies.
He’s ours, and we’ll keep him safe.
Chapter Thirty Three
JETHRO
He’s stabbing me, again and again, the knife flashing, rising and falling. There are bodies lying all around me. My mother, my uncle.
Joel. Candy.
Panic jerks me out of sleep, and then the pain in my chest hits, and I panic some more. There’s nobody beside me, no sound except my gasping breaths.
Is it over? Where’s Candy and Joel? Are they alive?
By the time the nurse does her rounds, I’ve calmed down. She doesn’t ask me why I’m awake in the middle of the night. I guess it’s normal if you’re in the hospital. Who the hell knows?
It’s not until they come back inside the next morning that I relax enough to sleep again.
The policeman sitting beside my bed is clearly uncomfortable. He’s wiping sweat from his brow again, shifting in the plastic chair they brought in for him, trying not to stare at the bruises and bandages covering me.
Heh, good luck with that. I’d stare if it were me in that chair. I bet I look spectacular. I’m beaten up, stabbed and stitched back together like a ragdoll. I feel like one, too—disjointed, broken, tattered.
Who would want someone like me, huh?
