I explode through the emergency room doors of the hospital, startling the people milling around with my haste and my appearance. I wouldn’t allow them to treat me at the lake, my need to get here far greater. The three of us skid to a halt in front of the treatment room doors when we see a bloodstained Dr. Ashley push through them. Grim-faced he greets me, “Mr. Love, I’m sorry that we’re meeting like this again.” A part of me is hopeful. Everything turned out all right last time I saw him. It would this time too, right? I mean, it fucking has to. All hope is dashed when he shakes his head no. “I’m just so sorry that the outcome isn’t the same.” I knew. I knew, but having him confirm it is too much.
“No. No!” I yell and storm past him, pushing my way through the doors, searching every bay I pass, my eyes darting frantically until I come to the one I’m looking for. Collapsing to the ground, all my strength leaves me. Gone. All of it. Gone, as a nurse pulls a white sheet over my brother’s face. “Don’t. Don’t put that on his face. He can’t fucking see like that.” Staggering to my feet, I move to his side. “He can’t see. He needs to see,” I demand, tugging at the sheet that she won’t let go of.
“Sir, please. Sir, he’s gone. I’m sorry,” the nurse says to me gently, carefully removing my shaking hands.
“He can’t see . . .” My words are lost on a sob. Sonny hates the dark. I’ve always made fun of him for it.
“Deacon?” I whirl around to the sound of my name. The haggard face of my dad bringing all the pain to the forefront. The nurse makes her way past him, giving us time alone.
“Pop.” The moment he’s beside me, I fall into him. His arms band around me, holding me up. “Why Pop? Why Sonny?” I can’t catch my breath, the pain in my heart is too much. “It should’ve been me. It always should’ve been me. I’m so sorry, Pop. So sorry. He was the good one. He was so good, Pop.” My voice catches on the words as my dad does his best to console me, even when his world is imploding.
The door opens and Maverick steps in tentatively, “They’re wrong, right? He’s not g-gone?” he asks hopefully, brokenly.
My chin hits my chest as another sob is dragged from me. I can’t. I can’t do this. Refusing to look at the bed that holds my now lifeless brother, refusing to meet the devastated eyes of my father, refusing to acknowledge my only living brother. My only. Living. Brother. I stumble into the hall. I have to find Frankie. I need to find Frankie.
Limbs like lead, I wander out to the waiting room, searching for my girl. My anchor. Not seeing her, I spin in a circle, frantically seeking. Please no. She was fine, wasn’t she? I saw them put her in the back of an ambulance. She was sitting up and talking to them. Right? I dart for the door and run right into a brick wall.
“I got ya, bro,” Reggie says, steadying me.
Eyes wild, I look behind him. “Frankie?”
“She’s okay. They admitted her to the maternity ward though for observation because she was grazed.”
My heart trips, trying to find a rhythm that isn’t quite so painful. “Does—does she know?” I ask.
Reggie drags a hand down his face and shakes his head no.
Nodding, I look away, his pain more than I can handle right now. “Take me to her. Please.”
I stand outside of Frankie’s hospital room with my forehead pressed to the wood, tears falling silently and steadily down my face and dropping to wet my shirt as I ready myself to face her. She’s going to know as soon as she sees me. I’m incapable of hiding the pain I’m suffering right now. I don’t even have the energy to try really. I just want to spare her of it for another minute. Our lives are never gonna be the same. We’re never gonna be the same. With one last fortifying breath, I push through the door.
She’s sitting in bed, eyes closed, hooked up to monitors beeping and tracking what I assume is the baby’s heart rate. I open my mouth to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out. Just then her eyes open slowly and land on me. One look and she sees everything, just like I knew she would.
“Nooooooo. Nooooo, Deacon! No!” she wails. Burying her face in her hands, her whole body convulses from the power behind her anguish and tears.
I start for her, my steps faltering when I see Guy stand from a chair in the corner. He brushes tears from his face, my dad’s name falling from his lips as he heads for the door knowing that Frankie and I need each other right now. Turning back to the Princess, I reach over my shoulder and pull my shirt over my head as I walk to her bedside, wincing when it sticks on the dried blood of my wounded shoulder. Gently, I slide my hands under Frankie’s legs, moving her over and crawling in behind her. She turns into me, burying her face in my neck, her tears dropping onto my chest.
“It’s all my fault, all m-my f-f-fault, Deacon. I’m s-so s-sorry,” she sobs. I hold her to me, doing my best to stay strong for her when, really, I’m on the verge of breaking again.
“Don’t say that, Frankie. It’s not your fault. It’s not, baby,” I demand, rocking her gently.
“It is! I brought him into our lives. I did that. I k-killed Sonn—” She can’t even get his name out before she’s crying so hard against me that it shakes us both.
There’s nothing that I can say that she’ll listen to right now, so I don’t. I just sway her from side to side, letting my hands sift through her hair, over and over, letting the monotony of the motion calm me as the tears fall with hers, mingling before they leave a trail down my chest. I’ve never felt pain like this. It’s all-consuming and heavy. It’s so heavy. Like I’m lying beneath a ton of bricks and can’t find the strength to get out from under them. May never find the strength to fight my way to the surface. I may never want to.