“Mr. Sloane, you’re going to have to come with us. We have quite a few questions that need to be answered,” one of the larger officers says with his hands on his utility belt.
I nod once then stand before bending to kiss her head. “Lucas,” I look over to him, “is going to stay with you until I’m back. He won’t leave you for a moment.”
Lucas chimes in, “I won’t. I’ll stay right here. I promise.”
I stand shoulder to shoulder with Lucas at Nora’s bedside. Without looking at him, I ask, “You good, Chase?”
“Yep, you?”
“I’ll survive.”
He extends his hand out. I look at it for a moment. This man I saw as a kid, and a thorn in my side, has in the matter of a couple of hours, become more like a brother I’ve never had. He rode beside me into the unknown because we needed to rescue the most important thing to both of us. The respect that wasn’t there before is cemented now. I offer him my hand but also tug him in for a brief embrace, which also acts as a silent thank-you between us.
I release him and turn around to give my Petal one last look and kiss to the forehead before I, very carefully, remove the ring that resides on my finger and lay it in her hands.
“Hold on to this until I get back,” I tell her and she curls her fingers around it. “It’ll keep you safe.” With a silent I love you exchanged, I face the officers and motion to the door. “Gentlemen, lead the way.”
Nora
If I were allowed to be up and walking, I’d have worn a path in the tile from pacing back and forth across this fucking hospital room. I haven’t stopped twisting the ring he left for me around my finger. I’ve memorized the grooves and the curves. It’s the only thing keeping me sane.
“It’s been three and a half hours, Lucas. Something is wrong.”
“Babe, nothing is wrong. It’s cop time, not our time. It could be another twelve hours. I wish you would sleep.”
“Sleep? How could you expect me to sleep? Tristan is in jail. Every time I close my eyes, I see you getting beaten upside the head with a gun, Tristan with blood all over him, or…or Evan’s lips on mine. I feel like this is a dream and I’m going to wake up still cuffed to that bed. Lucas…I can’t breathe in here.”
He picks up a magazine from the table in the corner and gently waves some air on me.
“I wish I could get you out of here, but unfortunately, I can’t.” His face is a bit battered and swollen from his fight with Evan, and it physically pains me to see. “Mom and Dad will be back with something for you to eat soon. You need to make sure you actually eat it. Can you promise me that?”
“You’re in pain. I can see it.”
“I’ll be all right. It’s fine.”
“You get pistol-whipped and you’re going to stand there and tell me it’s fine? Come sit with me. Please?”
“I don’t know, babe. This is the smallest bed we’ve tried together. I don’t think we’re going to fit.”
He tries to smile. I can see even that small movement is hurting him. “Try. Just try for me.”
He sighs heavily, feigning annoyance, but I can see the small grin on his lips when he sinks to the edge of the bed near my feet and places his hand on my leg.
“He’s going to be all right, Nora. I need you to believe that.”
“How can I? Evan is dead and Tristan was part of that. I’m scared of what they could say happened.”
“It was an accident. Self-defense at most. They should be praising him because the world is now one fucking piece of shit less.”
“Come closer. I need to look at you.”
“Christ, you’ve seen me a thousand times.”
“Don’t argue. Just do it.”
I try to slide to my right. As my body pushes back into the pillows, my weight shifts right into the joint of my shoulder. It starts to radiate down my back and into my head. I outwardly yelp from the pain.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Don’t move. Don’t move.” Lucas moves up the bed near my hip. While I try to fight through the shock wave and tears, he slowly strokes my cheek over and over again.
“God, I hate this so much,” I stutter through held back sobs. “Why did this have to happen?”
“I don’t have an answer for that, I’m just sorry that it did.”
“That’s the thing though,” I look up at his face, “I’m not. I hate that it happened this way but I’m happy he’s dead. What kind of person does that make me?”
“It makes you human,” he says to me plainly, as if it’s the easiest explanation in the world. “I’m going to use words I’ve never used with you before. He tortured you, assaulted you, beat you nearly unrecognizable. He nearly killed you twice and he did kill Sloane’s sister. That motherfucker got off easy.”
“How do you know about Tristan’s sister?”
“He told me, Nora. If you need more of a silver lining out of all this shit, I respect him. I may not like him yet, but I know he loves you. I think, if it’s possible, he loves you too much.”
I can feel my lip begin to tremble and I stare down at my hands, at his ring that I’ve slipped onto my index finger. “I love him too.”
“If there is nothing else I’ve learned from all of this, I’ve learned that fact.”
The door to my hospital room jiggles a bit then creaks open and my heart jumps to my throat. I beg to whichever higher power exists that he walks through any moment now.
Please be him. Please be him.
“Knock knock. We’ve brought sustenance,” I hear Maria say and my heart falls again.
“Just in time, Mom. She really needs something.”
I don’t even look at them. I can’t. I know what they think now just looking at me.
“There wasn’t much open at this hour, but I did find an amazing little delicatessen about a mile from here. They made some sandwiches, they had some chicken noodle soup, and some soothing types of teas. I brought an assortment. Nora? Honey, what would you like?”
“I’m not hungry. I don’t have an appetite at all.”
“You promised,” Lucas scolds me. “You haven’t eaten since this morning, and you’ve been through a lot. You’ll feel better with something in your stomach. Even if it’s just soup.”
“He’s right,” Maria adds. “I know it’s not ideal, but you should have a few bites.”
“Or I can go out and try to find something different,” Martin says from his place by the door.
“No,” I shake my head, “this is wonderful. I didn’t mean it that way.” I lick my dry lips. “I’d love some tea, English breakfast, if they sent some, and a bit of soup.”
Maria smiles. “I made sure they put that in the bag. Let me mother hen you a little bit while Martin forces his son to sit his own hind end down before we have to roll another bed in here.”
“Jesus Christ, Mom. I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not,” she states as she forcefully unpacks the food bag. Each item is set on my rolling bedside table with a slam. “You both went up against an armed piece of shit psychopath who if he wasn’t in hell already, I’d put him there myself for hurting my children.”