CHAPTER 42
Little clarity comes from sleep. And when we attend Steph’s funeral, I can’t bring myself to leave her casket. On knees before her, I grip my own fingers and pray she’s found peace. But the world won’t be the same without her, and I’ll never recover from the loss. I failed her as much as I failed Cait.
How long has it been? A week? I can’t take it anymore. Despite the warnings from my lawyer, I need to see Cait, to confirm she’s still here, still breathing, still fighting, and that the nightmares I have are only that, nightmares. With my jacket gripped in my hand, I head for the front door. The lights snap on in the foyer as I unchain the lock.
“Where you headed this late?” Linden descends the stairs in his pajamas. His admonishing gaze flickers across mine. He already knows the damn answer.
“Out.” I reach for the knob.
“Think about what you’re doing. Be smart.” I turn to him where he’s paused on the bottom step, his face stern. But he can’t know what it’s been like to bury my best friend today and be so uncertain about Cait’s recovery. What if something happens to her and I don’t see her before... my thoughts drift, and I shake my head. I won’t allow myself to think the worst. I cannot.
“What would you do if it were Viv?”
He flinches, like this is the most unimaginable question. His hand clenches the railing before he says, “I’d fucking destroy anyone who kept us apart.”
“Yeah. That’s the anger you’re asking me to cage.” I step out and slam the door. It’s been building inside, and I need a release. Tonight I made a bargain with myself. If I do this one thing, I may be able to get through.
I haven’t been to our apartment since it happened. I can’t bear it, not without her. But I go tonight because I need to collect something.
Through Devon, who now works security in the hospital, I find out they’ve moved Cait into a private wing. Her room is guarded, no doubt to keep me away. With his help, I take the fire stairs to her floor and wait. When her security detail moves to the nurse’s desk to chat, I slip into the hallway on hurried but silent steps to her room.
When I see her, I stop where I stand. She’s worse than I imagined—than the little bit I saw before. Her leg’s splinted and elevated. One arm and shoulder are casted and stretched to her side. Her face is a fading mustard-colored bruise and covered in tubes. Machines beep in the background under the glow of a fluorescent light. The room is veiled in a sickly pea green.
My chest caves. It’s too much to take, and I cover my mouth to hold back silent cries. She was so alive the last time I saw her in our home and now this? I fold, remembering I could have made love to her one last time but didn’t. Instead, I walked out the door and left. It’s unfathomable. If only I could rewind the clock and take back every wrong move I made. With heaviness, I drop into the chair beside her, carrying the weight of my guilt.
Her left arm rests on the bed. I grab it and hold her hand to my cheek, to my forehead, and press it to my lips. I kiss each perfect finger. She’s still warm and full of life. I have to believe she’s still in there. That she’s going to recover.
“Hey.” A painful swallow bobs in my throat. I must be strong for her. “I don’t have a lot of time. If you were awake you’d know why. Your parents are assholes.”
I smile because I know she would too.
“I wanted to do this in our spot, but I changed my mind when I walked past the house you like. I peeked in the windows. Of what I could see, it’ll need some work, but we can make it beautiful. I’ve been imagining us in it. Thinking positive. And setting goals, like you would.” I sigh. “What I’m trying to say is I wanted to do this there.”
I remove a blue velvet ring box from my pocket.
“You already know what’s in my heart, Cait. You’ve known it since the moment we met. I want us to grow old in that house. I want us to have babies in that house. I want to fight with you, make up with you, and make love to you in that house. And I want it forever. You’re my everything.”
I open the box. The sapphire and diamonds glint under the light. I remove the ring and slide it securely onto her ring finger. When she wakes, I want her to know I was here, that I never want to be away from her again. She’ll know what it means: that I love her, that I’ll always love her. I kiss her hand and imagine her response.
“I love you more,” I tell her.
“Touching.” My head snaps to the voice. I find her mom standing very still at the door, coffee in hand. She sets it down on a table as though preparing for a fight with a grizzly bear. My heart rate accelerates when Mr. London appears in the hallway behind her. His face still bruised from our altercation. I rise and expand my chest, unwilling to stand down.
Inside me the caged animal wakes. And with them standing here, the animal’s already snarling, baring his teeth, and crouched, ready for a fight. I grip the empty ring box in my hand, letting it remind me what’s at stake—our future. But still, it takes every ounce of control I have to wrangle my composure.
“I was just leaving.” I approach them, head held high. I’ve done nothing wrong. What I expect is for them to call for security again. Instead, as I pass, Mrs. London places a hand on my chest. When I pause, she places one on her husband’s. Now she’s pressed between us like a dam that’s about to break.
“Evan, you aren’t to come here again. Understand?” she says.
“Try and stop me.” I tear away from her outstretched hand and march away, desperate to add distance between the wild animal and his prey. I should be worried but I’m too furious. Who the fuck are they to keep us apart?
But then I remember the temporary restraining order. My court case is in a week. Being within three-hundred feet of them could get me thrown back in jail. Will it matter that I didn’t seek them out? I was here for Cait, and it was them who surprised me.
I repeat what I know. When Cait wakes, everything will return to normal.
***
I haven’t heard from Devon in days. I’m a wreck not knowing how Cait’s doing. I call his cell, knock on his apartment door, but nothing. No information. Even Linden’s hospital connections have gone silent. It’s like someone weeded them out, and it’s obvious who that someone was.
On the day of the court hearing, I meet Linden and our attorney, Fred Layton, at the courthouse. I’m nervous. I can’t help it. I’ve never even gotten a traffic ticket before, much less punched someone. By all accounts I’ve considered myself a chill person, but even a chill person can be pushed to their limit.
“Very bad news. Very bad,” Fred says and sets his briefcase on a bench. He releases the locks and lifts open the top. He removes several papers and hands them to Linden.
Linden shuffles through them, pausing on one. He holds it up for me to see, a grim expression paints his face. It’s a series of timestamped photos from a security camera from a week ago. I grab them and flip through, becoming infuriated by each new image. Each one shows me in and out of Cait’s hospital room. Several are of her father and me with three feet between us. Her mother’s squeezed between, like she’s holding us apart, breaking up a fight. Another move I now realize was calculated on her part.
“It’s not as bad as it looks. They showed up when I was leaving.” I hand the photos back and squeeze my eyes shut. I know what I sound like—a guilty man. This is not happening. I never thought to look for the cameras, not that they would have stopped me.
Linden sucks in a breath to cool himself, but he can’t be that surprised. Though I never told him where I went that night, I did what I had to do, what anyone would have done in my place.
“I told you I couldn’t keep that promise. You know I had to see her,” I explain.
He nods. He understands. “Now what?” He turns to Fred.
“Since this is based on assaulting a federal judge, a senator’s husband, no less, I’d say you’re looking at least one year jail time, plus fines, and an additional five years on a restraining order, which can be renewed if a threat persists.”
“I want to talk to them and clear this up,” I tell them. I’m certain we can work something out. We’re adults. Cait’s an adult. We’ve been together for years. This is getting out of control.
Fred arranges a meeting with her parents before the hearing. They file into a private conference room. A long oval table splits the space. Linden, Fred, and I sit on one side. Cait’s parents sit on the other. It dawns on me why they need no representation. They’re attorneys. Their suited-up security stands behind them, hands folded.
“Thanks for seeing me,” I say as they settle in their chairs.
Fred begins, “Let’s get down to it. Understandably, my client was under great duress on the day of the shootings. After waiting hours, he only wished to see his girlfriend of three years. Like you, he was deeply concerned for Miss London’s well-being. Mr. Wade deeply regrets the altercation that took place and wishes you no further harm. We’d like the assault charges and restraining order dropped.”
Mr. London clears his throat and glances at his wife, who appears smug. My heart sinks before she even says the words, “As stated, a boyfriend is not family. And there would be no restraining order if he had restrained himself.”
“Regardless, they’ve been together for some time, and I’m sure your daughter would find great comfort with having him at her side when she wakes. I’m sure we can arrange a schedule where both parties can visit and not interact.”
Mr. and Mrs. London give each other a side-glance. One slides a piece of paper across the table. Fred reaches for it, lifts it to his face, and reads silently.
“Now here’s my offer.” Mrs. London folds her hands on the tabletop. “You sign this contract stating you’ll stay away from my husband and me for ten years, and we’ll drop the charges. If you break this, a year in jail will look like time spent in a health spa.”
“Phfft.” I rest back in my chair. “I don’t even understand why you’re bothering. When Cait wakes, she’ll do what she wants. And what she’ll want is to be with me.”
“I agree,” her mom says. “When Cait wakes, she’ll be free to make her own decisions. But for now, we’re her next of kin. We make the decisions.”
I try not to react to her jab but zero in on the fact that she agrees with me on something. No matter how minor, this gives me pause. My attention swings to her dad who’s always remained strangely quiet. He tugs at his collar as if it’s cinching his neck like a noose. He folds his hands on the table and casts his glance downward at his twiddling fingers.
Fred leans in and whispers to Linden and me. “If we were dealing with anyone else I would say go to court, fight it, and make your case. It’s highly emotional with extreme circumstances and you have no record of violence, but this is different.”
“A compromise?” Linden asks.
We nod.
Fred clears his throat. “My client will consider a compromise. We’ll have to negotiate new terms.”
“Fine.” Her mom says and looks at me. “But you can’t visit her until after the executed contract.”
“I’ll draft new papers right away and get back with you,” Fred says. He’s gathering his papers at the concluded meeting, while I’m watching my chances of seeing Cait anytime soon narrow to the size of a pinprick.
“I don’t have time for that,” I tell him. I grab for the contract and pen, frantically scribble my name on the dotted line, and rise.
“No!” Linden yells and reaches to stop me, but I’m already out of my seat, circling the desk, and racing out of the room. I don’t want to be without Cait for another second, and I’m thrilled to have any reason to stay away from those assholes.
At the hospital, the elevator can’t move fast enough. When the doors part into her wing, I launch down the hall and past the nurse’s station. Several people yell to stop me, but I keep moving, anxious to see and hold her again without restraints.
Inside Cait’s room, I halt in my tracks. She’s gone. There’s only an empty bed with no sheets. My face crunches, and I turn in a circle before stepping outside to confirm the room number.
“Sir, you have to sign in,” a nurse wearing scrubs yells as she approaches.
“Cait London? Did you move her to another room?”
“She was transported this morning.”
“What! Where?” I’m frantic.
When the nurse shrugs, I backtrack to the nurse’s station. I stop, hands gripping the counter, and bark the question again to anyone who might be able to help. They look at me with blanks stares. Either they don’t know or they can’t tell me.
“She was transported into private care this morning,” a familiar voice answers. I spin and find Linden. He’s caught up with me.
I grab my head, taking the info like a punch in the gut. “Where did they take her?”
I clench his shirt, getting in his face, ready to fight him for the info. Being without her is making me insane.
“Evan,” Linden places his hands on either arm, but no matter how tight his grip, he won’t calm me now. I’ve been fucked around with too much.
His expression turns somber. “They took her home to Maryland.”