…and then I passed out.
ChapterNineteen
Elijah
His lips movedin soft waves, whispering to me in low, hushed tones as if it wasn’t my ears he was speaking toward… but my heart.
Strands of midnight hair bounced lightly with each heave of his chest, tickling the tops of cheeks as he breathed. The tip of his nose was warm as he traced the length of my thigh, his lips pale and cracked as they hovered over the bandage I wore. He was gentle as he kissed me there…
Once...
Twice…
Three times… before he placed his forehead against my knee and wrapped his arms around my leg as though he planned to stay awhile. Silas curled into me with a broken sound, spine curving as he struggled to get closer. His finger swept across the surface of my skin, creating shapes I couldn’t decipher and four letters I could…
M I N E
The sound he made was as sharp as the needle in my arm when he nuzzled against me, warm breath wafting over my leg hair, expelling in direct tandem with the steadybeep beep beepthat echoed throughout the small space.
Even in his sadness, my baby was a bold flame—a flare of light that lit up this desolate hospital room and slathered color across the white walls that caged us.
“Silas.” His name was like glass as it tore through the tender skin of my dry throat, sounding more like a grunt than a call. I tried again. “Silas, baby.”
He stiffened, and I watched as one eye opened, trailing up the length of my body with slow, cautious movements as if he wasn’t certain my voice was anything other than his mind playing mean tricks on him. “Da… daddy?”
“Hey, Kitten.”
“Daddy!” Silas sat up. Dark hair sprouted from his scalp in all directions, his brown eyes rimmed with a ring of red as he stared at me. A shaky hand shot to his chest, and I watched as feeble fingers tangled themselves in the fabric there. Tears pooled in the base of his eyelids, dripping off his lashes and soaring down the slope of his cheeks. “You… you scared me. I thought… I….”
“Baby.”
“I couldn’t see you!” A shiver tore through him, his lithe body quaking with an intensity it couldn’t handle. “They… they carried you out of that room and all I could see was blood. There wasso much blood,and I know you promised you wouldn’t die but your eyes were closed and you… you weren’t smiling.”
My throat spasmed, cheeks twitching as I breathed. I felt his distress deep in my stomach. Each broken sound he made tore through my insides, leaving behind a trail of flames sharper and more torrid than any bullet was capable of.
“They… they took you away from me. Thea said you needed surgery, but there weren’t any cameras in that stupid room, and I… I couldn’t find you, Daddy!I couldn’t find you!”
“Baby.” I barely felt the tug of my IV or the ache in my leg when I sat up and drew him into my chest. “Shh, everything’s okay now. You did such a good job helping me, sweetheart. Daddy’s so proud of his boy.”
His sob was a broken, hopeless sound that settled low in my gut, quaking with each heave of his chest. It shook where it fell, and each time he said my name, I felt my skin get a little tighter. It wrapped itself around that noise until it got so loud it blew, and I was nothing but a pile of pieces beneath his cries.
“My chest hurt, and I watched to scratch, Daddy but I didn’t.” Arms around my waist, Silas pushed his nose into the curve of my neck, his tears warm as they slipped beneath the edge of my hospital gown. “Thea gave me this squishy ball to play with. I… I ripped it in half but she wasn’t mad.”
“You did good, Kitten.” I pressed my lips to his temple and slipped my fingers beneath the strands of his hair, rubbing softly at his scalp.
Legs bent, he curled into my lap, and we stayed like for a while. Every so often, his chest would knock against mine, his pained exhales almost too big for his little lungs.
His finger shook when it traced the needle in the crook of my elbow, slipping up and down the tube as though he was making sure the drip didn’t stop.
“Does…” He sniffed. “Does your leg hurt, Daddy? Thea said they gave you the good stuff.”
“It doesn’t hurt, sweetheart. I promise.”
The ache I felt was a low, humming feeling that spread through the muscles in my leg and stopped just below my hip. I wasn’t a stranger to bullet wounds, and I knew,eventually,the meds would wear off, and that ache would blossom into a fire that re-lit each time I moved a certain way.
Surrounded by an ugly patch of bruises, and buried beneath a dozen layers of gauze, was likely a jagged scar that ran the length of my palm.
“Thea said you might have to use crutches for a while.” He whispered into my neck. “Do you know how to use crutches, Daddy?”