“You too, Dad,” I returned, easy. Because I did love him, and even if we had our issues, even if he and my mom lied, I had too. I’d lied every day I said I didn’t need him. I’d lied every day I convinced myself that hate would fix all the pain inside.
But what I said, what I felt proved a far better feeling than any hate I’d felt for this man. It was like breathing air.
It was feeling again.
A glisten to his eyes as he looked at me, but he didn’t make me say anything more. He just touched my hand again.
And that’s all I think was needed.
Dad walked with me as far as he could, until the elevators cut us off and I was left to the care of Dr. Fieldhouse and her team. He said he’d call my mothers and tell them I was about to go up.
“Tell them I love them too,” I said, knowing I’d already said it. Of course, I had when they called. I did love them. I’d love them forever.
Dad had nodded to me, waving. After that, it was a quick ride upstairs and into the room I thought only reserved for me.
Which was why my breath caught at seeing Cleo.
They had her lying there, in my operating room with the bed upraised. She was in a medical gown just like me, a sheet covering her waist.
And she was so bruised.
The right side of her face was completely purple, under her eyes puffy and the same. They’d cut her hair too, chopped at her shoulders and a bandage was on her head from where I guessed they’d shaved it.
My stomach clenched, my heart raced, and my need to be close to her bogged me down like a heavy weight. I wanted to rip all the leads away and take her, hold her and make her safe. I wanted to be the one in that bed.
And wished so hard that it had been me.
She’d been collateral damage in all this, and as the doctor wheeled me closer, I just stared at her.
“We figured you might want to see her,” Dr. Fieldhouse said. “She’s been a hell of a fighter.”
I bet she had. The fact that she survived me and all the things I’d done her greatest feat. I swallowed. “Can I touch her?”
I shouldn’t have asked that, had no right to ask that, but when Dr. Fieldhouse nodded, the first thing I did was reach for Cleo’s hand.
It warm, soft and so beautiful like her. I didn’t want to let it go.
Touching her was so dumb.
It made me want for more things, things I had no right to have. It had made me give my ring to my dad to give to her, but I didn’t give that to him with intent. Fact of the matter was, no one could have that part of me after her, impossible. There was the me before.
Then there was the me with Cleo.
She’d always have that part. She’d always have that piece, and with this surgery now, it was like a symbol of that. I could go the rest of my life knowing I’d always be a part of her.
Even if, in the end, that’s all it could ever be.
I fingered her wrist up to her elbow, relishing in those moments as long as I could. Eventually, Dr. Fieldhouse asked me if I was ready, and I didn’t hesitate. The moment I went to sleep, Cleo would be relieved of her nightmare.
And the moment she woke up, I’d be relieved of mine.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Cleo
My limbs sagged. My body pulsed. My lashes fluttered open, and the soft light in the room shot a bolt of pain straight into my scull.
I moaned.