“Jules,” he whispers.
His finger slides along my cheek and he wipes away my tears. I don’t want him to touch me, but I’m too heartbroken and tired to move away. I close my eyes and will him to stop with my mind, but he stays put, slowly brushing away my tears until I cry myself to sleep.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Luca
I FEEL LIKE A FUCKING creepy stalker, but it’s the only way. I’m a selfish bastard, and I know it. I should be strung up by my toes, lashed repeatedly, then have bleach poured on the open wounds. Fuckin’ crazy, right? What I’m doing is insane, so I figure it fits.
Those thoughts don’t stop me though. I waited two weeks before my will crumbled to dust. Two weeks of beating the shit out of the bag. Two weeks of running until I had fucking blisters. Two weeks of self-loathing that did not one bit of good.
Those two weeks were absolute torture of the worst kind, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
So, here I am, creepily walking the halls of General.
I come to a stop when I reach Jules’s room. Taking a deep breath, I look around the doorframe, and in the soft light over her bed see she’s asleep, just as I hoped. That’s why I waited until midnight to come. I didn’t want to take the chance of her seeing me again, because last time didn’t go so well, with damn good reason. If it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t want one of the nurses to see me, I’d be pissed their midnight staff was so lax. God only knows what asshole could come in here and hurt any of the patients. My lip curls when I lump myself in that category.
I stop only a few feet inside the doorway and lean my shoulder against the wall, opting to keep my distance in case she wakes up, so I can slip out of the room before she sees me.
After avoiding my parents for a week, Mom finally pinned me down at home. Her eyes were sad when she looked at me, and it tore my heart to shreds. Shame eats at me anytime I look at her, because I know Dad told her what Theo said I did. I don’t see how she could look at me without disgust. Fuck knows I’m disgusted with myself. How in the hell could I do that to Theo? Even more important, how in the hell could I hurt Jules? My temper may be hot and volatile at times, and I’ve used it against people, but they were always deserving of my wrath. It was to protect family, myself, or someone I cared about. My anger has never controlled me. I’ve always controlled it.
Through Mom, I learned that Jules doesn’t remember her time with Theo or me attacking her. Mom offered that info on her own, without me asking. I don’t know why she told me; maybe she saw the guilt eating away at me. Regardless, I sure as fuck don’t deserve any updates, but I’m still screwed in the head enough to be grateful she gave it.
Even though Jules may not remember me or what I did to her, her mind obviously knew enough to warn her away from me. Self-preservation at its finest. I’m glad her subconscious told her I was a danger. After what I did, she should be afraid. Not that I would hurt her now, even the thought brings bile to my throat and makes me want to ram my head into a brick wall. Even so, if I was capable of it before, there’s no reason for her to think I wouldn’t do it again.
Mom also informed me that Jules is doing good. Better than the doctors expected after her being in a coma for so long. She’s going home soon. To Theo’s home, that is.
I stiffen when Jules moves. At first, I think she’s waking up, but when she moans in her sleep, I know she’s just dreaming. I have to force myself to stay against the wall instead of going to her. I wish so fucking much I could rub out the wrinkle I know is between her eyes. Or whisper soothing words. Or crawl onto that narrow bed and hold her in my arms.
She moans again, and it sounds pained. I dig the blunt tips of my nails into my palms, hoping the pain will mask the ache in my chest that her moans caused.
Thankfully, she settles after a moment, and I can relax again. I don’t plan to stay long. I just wanted to see for myself that she’s okay. I haven’t dreamed of her since the last one I had of her memories of seven years ago. If I’m honest, I try to avoid sleep as much as possible, because that dream totally fucked me up. I’m terrified of it coming back. I desperately want to see Jules again, even if only in my dreams, but I can’t bear to hear her pleas and sobs again.
I’m a grown man who’s unafraid of almost anything, but I’m petrified to fall asleep.
I stand there for another fifteen minutes before silently slipping out of the room. If I had the right, I’d never leave, except to work, and even then, reluctantly.
I’m surprised to see my sister’s car in the driveway when I pull up to my house. I left work at midnight and went straight to the hospital, so there’s no telling how long she’s been here. She was off today, and she said she and Vicki were spending all day together.
When I walk through the door, I find Ella at the table with a coffee cup and book. At first, I don’t spot Vicki, and I’m surprised she let Ella out of the house by herself this late at night, but then she emerges from the hallway bathroom.
“What in the hell are you both doing here so late?” I ask, dropping my keys on the coffee table, then walking to the fridge for a beer.
Ella stands, and I notice worry lines on her forehead. Just another thing that makes me an asshole.
“I was worried about you,” Ella says, picking up her mug and taking it to the kitchen. “You were supposed to come over for breakfast this morning before work.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, then take a swig of my beer. “But you could have just called, Ella. There was no need for you to come out this late.”
“I did call. Your phone went straight to voicemail. And when I called the shop, Jazz said you were busy with a customer all day. I wanted to come up to the shop, but Vicki wouldn’t let me.”
Her eyes turn angry as she swings them toward Vicki.
“Don’t give me that look, baby. You need to lay off your brother. Between you and your parents, I’m sure he can’t fucking breathe. Only reason we’re here now is because you threatened me with something I’m not willing to lose.”
Ella’s eyes narrow further, but she doesn’t say anything. I pull my phone from my pocket and drop it on the counter.
“My phone died, and my charger was at home. Sorry about this morning. I had a bad night and woke up late.”