Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cade
It's another two hours before they finally allow me to see January.
The petite raven-haired nurse who leads me back chatters the entire time, but I don't catch anything she says to me. I think she's trying to prepare me for what I'm going to see behind the double doors to the ICU…to prepare me for seeing January. There's no preparation for that, though.
The second the nurse slides open the glass partition to let me in, my heart dives toward my stomach.
January's in the middle of a hospital bed, the white blankets folded back over her chest. She's got a breathing tube down her throat and IVs running all over the place. Other wires crisscross her body, running to machines scattered all around the room. They beep and hum, filling the space with noise. Even though the lights are dimmed in the room, all the light pollution from the machines makes it seem much brighter.
My girl looks so fucking tiny and pale, with her eyes closed and her dark lashes resting against her cheeks. The ventilator tube has been taped to her mouth to hold it in place.
"You can go in, Agent Kincaid," the nurse says softly, placing her hand on my arm.
I jerk my head in a nod, but my feet won't move. They're rooted to the floor right outside the door as I watch January's chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. My eyes bounce from her to the ventilator that's sitting on a large stand beside her. Lights flash, and various numbers run across the screen as the machine breathes for her in a pneumatic wheeze.
"How do you know she's trying to breathe?" I ask the nurse, my gaze moving back to January.
"See this light?" the nurse says and steps up beside the machine, pointing at a small light in the bottom corner of the screen. It doesn't do anything for a second, and then it flashes green. "It flashes like this when she tries to take a breath on her own."
I stare at the screen, willing the light to flash again. It feels like forever before it finally lights up. As soon as it does, my legs finally move. I stumble into the room, a strangled sob breaking from my lips.
She's breathing.
Thank God, she's breathing.
"January," I groan and drop to my knees beside the bed. Grabbing her hand, I cling to her. Her fingers are still cold, too cold. She's too still. "Baby girl, I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry."
For the first time since my mom died, I cry like a fucking baby. I can't stop the tears as they pour out in an anguished flood.
The nurse puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes once in a show of empathy before stepping out of the room to give me privacy.
A lifetime of repressed grief and regret pour out of me in sobs that leave my chest aching and my head throbbing. I cry for Ma Lucia and for Jana. I cry for Titan. I cry for January. And I cry for me…for a lifetime of losing everyone and everything that matters to me. For losing myself.
I never meant for it to happen. I never meant to turn into this person, the one who never lets anyone get too close. The one who spends so much of his time living amongst monsters that he's fucking terrified he's just like them. The one so fucking afraid, he doesn't know how to be vulnerable. Instead, he hides behind fake smiles and bullshit, turning life into a joke so he doesn't have to feel anything.
I don't want to be him anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore.
I want forgiveness. I want to feel like I deserve forgiveness. Like I deserve the girl who took a bullet for me.
I have to find me again, because the guy I was back when that girl was really mine…the guy with hopes and dreams, who could close his eyes at night and sleep peacefully…that guy wasn't a monster. He wasn't tripping so far down a dark path, he couldn't even see the light most of the time. That guy…that guy was me.
And I fucking miss him.
I sit with January for a long time, pouring my heart out. I tell her every sad detail about my life, about the way I've lived for the last seven years. About how my apartment in Seattle has nothing in it—no warmth or safety—because it was just a place I went when I couldn't keep going anymore and had to sleep. I tell her about all the shit I've done and all the things I wish I could go back and do differently.
I tell her how fucking lonely I've been, how I've kept everyone at arm's length so I didn't have to risk losing anyone else. I tell her about Tristan and his wife and how they're the only people in my life who have made me feel a damn thing since the day I walked away from her, and how even then, I've kept them at a distance, too afraid to let them in.