30. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Marcus

T he antiseptic smell smothers me. I hate it.

Has hated it ever since med school. Hate it worse now when I'm feeling weak and unable to open my eyes.

I hate it. I…

Wait. This isn't just antiseptic.

I smell daisies.

Leighton.

With what little power I have left, I force my eyes open.

Not surprisingly, I'm in a hospital bed. Fluorescent lights glow above me, illuminating the room in a white light. I have IV tubes stuck to my left arm. Beside me, the vital sign monitors beep and beep and beep.

I would've said I'm in hell if it wasn' t for her.

A mass of pink hair cascades on the pale blue blanket that covers my upper body. From my vantage point, I see the blonde roots. I see her fingers beneath her head.

Leighton's wearing a pale blue hospital gown to match the covers. I have the urge to rip it off her. Dress her in something nice instead. Like my cum.

Later. I'll make everything better for her later.

The only thing that matters is that she's here. Alive.

I should let her sleep. Let her rest. Who knows how long I've been out. How long did it take the doctors to patch me up while she sat in the waiting room consumed by uncalled-for guilt and worry. By herself.

She should sleep. Regain her strength.

I wish I could've given it to her. I can't.

When I was lying on the ground after I got shot, I thought that was it. I was going to die. I thought I'd never get to watch Leighton's eyes widen for me or her mouth parting in anticipation. I realized I might never hear her tell me she loves me again.

I'm here, alive. I need all those things I thought I'd lost.

And I need them yesterday.

But how will I wake her when I have a tube coming out of my mouth? Why haven't I noticed it before?

You know damn well why.

I was focused on her. Searching for her. Always searching for her.

My arm weighs a million pounds. I lift it up anyway, wrapping my fingers around the tube to pull it out .

It scratches my throat on the way out, and I gag. I get it out, regardless. Nothing can stop me. When I'm done, the tube drops on my chest. My arm flops to the side.

"Leighton," I croak. Clear my throat. "Little doll."

She jolts, her body snapping into attention. "What? What? Don't bother him, he's sleeping."

"Leigh," I say at the same time she realizes there's no nurse or a doctor in the room.

Carefully, as if she's afraid she's hallucinating, Leighton turns her head to me.

"Baby." My smile is weak. It's all I have for her right now. "How are you?"

"Me?" Her chin wobbles.

My brave girl holds back tears for a brief second. I clutch her fingers, communicating that it's okay to cry. And she does, letting them out.

"You're the one who got shot. How are you?" Her fingers clutch onto mine as she weeps. "Why is your breathing tube out? I'm going to call the nurse. Stay right here and—"

"No nurse." I tighten my grip on her hand. "You're staying right here where I can see you."

"Oh, God. Oh, thank God." She sobs some more, laughing through her tears. "You really are back, you controlling psycho."

"I told you I'll never leave you." I tug on her hand. "Come here. I missed you, plaything."

Leighton hesitates, her attention flicking from where the bullet wounded me and my face.

"Did I stutter? "

"No, no, you didn't." She wipes the tears off her cheeks, climbing onto the hospital bed. "Psycho."

"I told you not to call me that," I whisper, smiling. Talking feels like sand scraping my throat.

Nothing, though, nothing will keep me from touching her. My arm snakes around Leighton, flipping her to her side and hugging her to my aching body. I'm exhausted already.

The pain meds aren't enough to dull the pressure in my wound. But she won't see it on my face. Leighton's been through hell, and I won't add to her woes.

The last thing I want is to be another reason for her to worry.

So, I let her hug me, resting her head on my chest. Hugging her closer, my biceps flex. My sutures could tear. My IV could pop out. Let it happen.

There are doctors and nurses here to patch me back. It's their job.

Mine is to take care of Leighton.

Of Leighton and—

"Fuck." The world spins around me when I sit up. "Goddamnit."

"What?" Leighton tries to straighten, to get out of bed again. She won't. My arm is settled over her, and I'm never moving it. "Don't hold me like this. It'll take a second to call a nurse in here."

"I'm okay." As okay as possible, given the circumstances. I have to get out of here. "Rylan? I heard another shot back at the house. Where is she? Where's my daughter? "

I had plans for Rylan. Ways to get her the help she so clearly needs. The help I've avoided giving her. I was so stupid, so na?ve, hoping that if I just stayed single, everything would solve itself.

I've been treating dozens of patients. Hundreds. Encouraged them to open up, to stay in therapy even when things got uncomfortable. Therapy is key , I'd say. Your issues won't go away on their own. Better address them. You're here, let's talk it through.

In my attempts to protect Rylan, I've single-handedly destroyed her.

And now she's…

Leighton's chest expands.

"Tell me."

"She's alive. She shot herself, but it wasn't fatal." Leighton studies me.

She sees nothing because I feel nothing.

No, that's not true. What I feel is strange. I'm not relieved. Not disappointed, either. For the first time in my life, I'm not sure what I feel.

"She shot herself in the stomach, the same place where she shot you." When I don't say a word, Leighton continues, "The ambulance got to the both of you fast, and the bullet missed her vital organs. Yours too. You're both safe."

Another wave of tears spills out of her beautiful eyes. I hate that I have to bother her with questions. I'll let her rest. Soon.

"Where is she? Can I see her?" I ask, even though I know the answer .

"I'm sorry." Leighton shakes her head. "They handcuffed her to the hospital bed after she got out of surgery. I refused to say anything to the detectives until you woke up. Nothing implicating, that is. I told them I heard screams and called the ambulance from inside the house. Which I did, as soon as she pulled up. I had a bad feeling. Anyway, I lied to the cops. The way they see it, it was an accident. But they're waiting for your testimony. Said once you corroborate my story, they'll start making arrangements to hospitalize her. Since she attempted suicide and all."

"You called an ambulance." My brow furrows. "Why not the police?"

"I didn't want it for her. I could tell something would happen to her or us. I had to call someone." Leighton fists my hospital gown. "I said that my friend was hurt. That I can't talk, and they had to come fast. They traced the burner phone somehow and came."

"You didn't want her to get arrested?" I'm a little shell-shocked. This girl will keep me on the edge of my seat for the rest of my life.

"Nope," she breathes out. "Then I regretted it. I'm sorry, but I saw everything from where I hid in the kitchen. She was screaming and crying, and I was so scared for you."

"Jesus, Leighton." Rylan's safe. Rylan's alive. Leighton, on the other hand… "I told you to stay in the closet."

"Yeah, and I told you I loved you." She sits up, her hospital gown bunching at her thighs. "Love means never letting go. It means doing anything and everything for the other person. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't save Milo. I saved both of you, though. And that's something."

My head starts to pound. The meds, the surgery, the mess that is my life. It's too much.

I'll spank her raw once we're back home. Until then, I just nod. "Thank you."

Leighton nibbles on the corner of her lip. "What are we going to tell the police?"

I watch her. The dark rims around her blue irises. Her cute nose. Plump lips and soft cheeks.

What am I going to tell them that would both keep her safe and wouldn't end terribly for Rylan?

Excusing this whole situation as an accident would come back to bite the three of us in the ass. Rylan wouldn't get help. Not in the long haul.

Leighton would be in constant danger. I sure as shit wouldn't be able to work, let alone sleep.

It's time to do right by my daughter. I'll make sure to put her in trustworthy hands with a doctor I know. I have someone in mind. A man I'm sure would never betray her secrets. Even the clandestine ones. I'm sure, because I hold on to some of his.

"We'll tell them this was attempted suicide." My eyelids are heavy. I won't stop talking. I'll rest when I'm done. "That she came over as a cry for help. I fought her for the gun so she wouldn't hurt herself. She thought I died and that set her off. That's what we're going to say, understood?"

"Yes." Leighton shifts, setting me back into a lying position. "That way, she'll be locked up somewhere they can help her, right? "

"Clever girl." Exhaustion takes over me. Before I doze off, I reach for Leighton's hand. "We'll be okay, little doll. She'll be okay. From this point on, you won't have to worry about anything. I'm here."