MOTHER FUCKING HELL.
My head is pounding and I’m sick to my stomach.
The doc offered me pain meds, which I refused to take. They’re sitting in a little white paper cup, mocking me as I lie in a private emergency room bed waiting for discharge.
Looking down, I pick at the bandage over my first ever stab wound.
“Oh, look who’s finally awake.”
My eyes move in the direction of the voice. An overweight, friendly-face, African-American nurse with an impressive Afro smiles as she punishes her patient for dozing off.
“Been waiting to see what color eyes you have. Thankfully, the wait was worth it and you didn’t disappoint,” she playfully flirts on a wink. “Blue. Should have figured. All the hot ones have those rich, beautiful eyes.”
I smile but it’s weak.
“My name is Greta,” she introduces. “And I’ll be with you ‘til you’re cleared to go.”
The ambulance ride did as I’d hoped. Averie drove the driver as crazy as she’d driven me the day we met. She played with buttons, the radio, and the equipment until I finally called her off.
When I was pulled away and put into a back room to get treated and give my statement, Rob had taken a stressed and nervous Averie to be checked out. He reported back that Katie was on her way, and the nick to Averie’s neck only required cleaning.
Looking around the room, but not finding a clock, I ask, “How long have I been in here?”
“Four hours, maybe.” She messes with a large clipboard, pad, and pen before casting me a glance. “Doc’s been keeping your visitors away until your cop friends agree you’re able to head home.”
“And when will that be?”
“Soon,” she returns. “Paperwork. You know.”
I do know.
“People are sayin’ you took that monster down,” Greta claims. “You’re a hero.”
Damn it, that’s what people are going to call me.
I break a noise resembling a grunt and avoid looking at her directly.
I didn’t take the monster down. He surrendered himself. What matters is that Caleb Marcos is dead. He’s where he should be—hopefully burning in hell.
Thank God Averie’s okay.
Turning to my bedside table, I notice my cell phone charging.
Reading my thoughts, the nurse goes for my phone and lays it gently in my hand. “Friend of yours stopped in, brought you your phone and charger.”
“Thanks,” I reply, reaching it slowly.
Opening the screen, several messages have come through.
Averie 3:36 p.m. I hope you’re doing better.
Averie 3:55 p.m. That guy Roberino said I could come try to wake you up in a little bit.
Roberino? Jesus Christ, she’s nicknamed my partner too.
The text messages continue.
Averie 4:21 p.m. Are you awake yet?
Averie 5:01 p.m. If you don’t answer soon, I’m breaking in to get you.
And finally, the last.
Averie 5:08 p.m. I’m breaking in.
Obviously, my ever-in-motion, teenage tormentor didn’t get the nap I did.
“Beautiful eyes and gorgeous smile,” Greta observes when I smirk at Averie’s insistence. “Need anything before I go?”
“I’m good,” I reply.
Pointing to my door, she explains, “The two young ones outside are a handful. All puffing their chests at the staff and demanding to see you.”
‘Demanding’ can only be used to describe Averie. But Amelia? Doubtful.
“I’ll go get the doc. Then you can see to your girls.”
Closing my eyes and resting my head on the pillow, I take a breath and listen as the nurse finishes moving in and around my room with expertise.
As she leaves I hear her subtle ‘whoa’ then, “Sir, he can’t have visitors yet.”
Thomas stands next to her at the door. He looks around the room until he finds me on the bed.
“Let him in,” I tell her. “I’m good.”
Greta narrows her eyes, but moves to the side for him to enter.
Thomas makes it two steps inside before I give, “If you’ve come to tell me to stay away from any of those girls, it won’t happen. You can save your energy.”
Thomas straightens his posture and squares my gaze to his.
“Telling you to stay away would send Averie in a tizzy,” he admits. “Neither you nor I need that. She’s already in a state.”
Likely true, he’s right.
“Then what’re you here for?”
“I hadn’t imagined this to happen for months down the road, but what happened to Averie…” Thomas pauses, takes a breath, and steps farther into the room. “The men in my girls’ lives need to talk.”
“We’re good, Thomas. We have nothing to talk about.”
I should consider my tone, being that I’m laid up in a hospital bed without witnesses. But I’m in no mood to cower.
“You’re a captive audience,” he insists, pointing around the room. “Hear me out.”
“This heart-to-heart gonna take a while?”
Smiling with unease, he looks down to the uncomfortable metal chair near the bed.
“Take a seat,” I reluctantly offer. “Seems you’re set on a chat.”
Doing as I’ve invited, he formally states, “I came here to thank you.”
“Thank me?”
To keep from laughing I look away.
I’ve fucked this man’s wife.
I’ve spent time with his daughters.
For years, I’ve done unimaginable damage to his marriage, to his life, and he wants to thank me.
The irony in the difference between our reactions would be funny if all this shit wasn’t happening to me. But it is, so let’s get this over with.
“You saved Averie. You put her life ahead of yours.”
“Comes with the job, Thomas. Not to mention, I’m the reason she was in harm’s way.”
Sternly nodding once, he starts to agree but stops. When he scoots the chair, positioning it closer to the bed, I tense.
“I wasn’t the father or husband I should’ve been to any of my girls.”
“This you apologizin’ to me for that? ‘Cause I’m not the one who deserves to hear it. They do.”
Smiling, he shakes his head. “No. I’m saying, had I not been a selfish prick, Averie wouldn’t have been with you to begin with.”
Yes, she would’ve, I think but don’t say. Thomas still hasn’t realized that Katie was always mine. Gone or not, she never stopped loving me. We would’ve ended up here, no matter what or where life had in store.
I don’t go into facts or details. I’m too tired and don’t care if he understands or not.
I offer only, “Good you see things that way.”
Thomas sits back, resting his hands to his thighs. He eyes me hesitantly before insisting, “I need something from you.”
“I’m not leaving Katie, Thomas. Not again. Did it once. Regretted it and not about to do it again.”
Lifting his hand, he placates with, “Stop.”
Ignoring him and pushing to ensure he gets my point, I continue, “I fucked up letting her go years ago. Won’t do it again.”
“Cole,” he warns.
“You’re right. You weren’t the husband you should’ve been. You had over fifteen years to be the husband you promised you would be. Now you can step the fuck back, ‘cause it’s my turn.”
Appearing satisfied with himself, Thomas relaxes. “And that’s exactly what I came here for.”
“What?”
“My Katherine loves you.”
My Katherine.
I should be pissed hearing the term come from him, but for once maybe he sees what he had and lost. I’ll let him have this. Once.
“She always did love you. In ways, I knew this from the beginning of us but didn’t want to admit it.”
“And I’ve always loved her.”
Smiling, heartbrokenly so, he admits, “I always knew that too.”
“I’d tell you I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t do either of us any good.”
“Probably not because you wouldn’t mean it.”
“Probably right,” I give him. “I wouldn’t.”
As if reciting memories to himself, those he lost but now are back, he tells me, “Katherine always had a sad look on her face when she thought I wasn’t watching.”
“I’ve seen it,” I confess. “Many times.”
“I’m sure you have.”
“She loved you, too,” I admit to him, but using past tense. At one time, I believe this true. You don’t sleep with another man and have remorse if there aren’t some feelings there.
“She never loved me in a way that mattered.”
“She loves you for what you gave her,” I confess, “and that does matter.”
“The girls,” he guesses.
“Yes. Those girls are the world to her.”
“And she’ll always have them. I’d never take them from her.”
“Good to know ‘cause I imagine Averie’s been makin’ plans for family vacations, which include all of us. I mean, all of us.”
“Oh, that girl,” he sighs through his words. “She’ll never stop.”
“I hope she doesn’t.”
My cell phone alerts with an incoming text and I turn my head to the table at my side. It’s not the message I focus on, though. It’s what I hadn’t seen there before.
On the table sits a generic greeting card. A yellow smiley face is printed on the front. Nothing is written inside. No engraved sentiment and no personal signature.
I smile wide.
“What’s funny?” Thomas asks.
Pointing to the card I know is from Katie, I reply, “That.”
He’s confused, of course, but I don’t explain. My heart swells, tightening my chest. I want this talk with him over with, so I can get her ass in here to ensure she’s okay.
“That’s from Katherine,” Thomas presumes correctly. “You…” he pauses, regroups, and calmly says, “She kept them all.”
“What?”
“Your cards. They’d come to the house. Every year. They’re in a box on the floor of our bedroom closet. I never had the slightest idea who they were from. I never even asked.” Shaming himself, he shakes his head and looks down. “God, I was so neglectful.”
“Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you were just married to the wrong woman.”
“I was. I should’ve noticed random unsaid messages being sent to her.”
“We about done?” I press, hoping he’s finished.
Luckily he is. Thomas stands, extends his hand and when I take it he says, “I’ll corral the girls and send them in.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Thomas smiles. “Take care, Cole.”
“You too.”
Stopping at my door and turning with the handle in hand, he reminds, “And, maybe the next time you take Averie shopping, just let her buy you the sweater. I’ve heard nothing but how impossible you are to shop for.”
“She can buy you the sweater,” I counter.
Looking down at his own, he pulls some of the material from the front of his chest. “I don’t wear yellow. I wear this because Averie insists it brings out the blond in my hair.”
With that, I smile as he turns to leave.
Sweet, determined Averie or not, I’m still never wearing fucking purple.