Chapter Twenty-Five

Cade

" A re you sure you don't want us to come back?" Tristan asks, the same question he's asked me every time I've talked to him over the last five days.

"I'm sure," I reply, giving him my usual response. As much as I appreciate him for wanting to be here for me, I know L.A. is the last place he wants to be.

It's not like there's much for him to do anyway.

January is…fuck, I don't know. They keep telling me she's improving. She looks better. But they had to rush her back into emergency surgery four days ago when her catheter began filling with blood at an alarming rate, and her blood pressure almost bottomed out. After that, every time I left the room for even a few minutes, it seemed like there was some new setback.

I finally planted my ass in her room and told them I wasn't leaving unless they dragged me out. The setback shit stopped after that. Her blood pressure has leveled out, and her heart rate is within normal ranges. Her lab work all looks good, and they removed the drain tube from her stomach yesterday. They've been slowly weaning her off the ventilator. A few hours ago, they finally took it out completely and moved her to a step-down unit.

I've just been sitting beside her ever since, fascinated by the steady rise and fall of her chest. I can't seem to tear my gaze away.

They started weaning her off the sedation meds before they removed the ventilator, but she hasn't woken up yet. She's still on a lot of pain medication, so they think it could be a little while.

I'm desperate to see those emerald eyes. It's been too long since I last gazed into them.

"You aren't coming home, are you?" Tristan asks.

"I am home, man," I say, speaking softly. "January's always been my home."

"It's about fucking time. We'll miss you around here, but that's where you belong." He pauses. "You deserve happiness."

I think I'm actually starting to believe that myself. A shrink has been by several times to check in and see how things are going. He's not terrible. I don't necessarily like the dude, but he's honest and calls me on my bullshit when I try to feed it to him. I respect the fact that he's willing to tell me like it is, even when I don't want to hear it.

It's a start.

Once January is out of here, I think I'll continue seeing him. At least for a little while. I've got a lot of shit to work out.

I'm still waiting to hear whether or not I'm going to be charged with the murders. No one's said much about it. Hernandez stopped by once to talk about what went down with Kaleo. It was awkward as fuck. He's a good dude, but I'm still pissed Kaleo managed to get into January's house. After our conversation in his interview room, he was supposed to be looking for the fucker. It's not his fault he didn't find him—logically, I know that—but I'm still pissed about it.

He feels bad about it. At least, I guess he does. He apologized and said he wished like hell things had gone differently. That was the end of that conversation. He holds his cards close to his chest. I get the impression he doesn't share much with anyone.

I just want this done and over with. If I'm going to prison, I'd rather fucking know now so I can prepare January for what's coming. So I can prepare for what's coming.

Ames and Roman are convinced I'll be cleared. I think most of the people I know are more than happy to pin those murders on Kaleo and call it a day. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean…it's not like I want to go to prison. But I did the crime. Maybe I should be doing the time. I don't know. I haven't worked it out in my mind yet. A lot of shit is still percolating in there.

"You better come and visit!" Lillian shouts in the background.

"I'll try to visit," I tell her but don't make any promises I might not be able to keep. Her man will never forgive me if I make her cry. She knows I'm being investigated for murder but refuses to believe I might have actually done it. I adore her for believing in me so emphatically. I'm damn sure not about to shatter her illusion. I think Tristan knows the truth, but he isn't telling her either. Some truths are better left unspoken.

"Will you bring her with you?" Lillian asks, her tone hopeful as hell. "I want to meet her."

"If she'll let me." I'm a little worried January is going to kick my ass to the curb for good when she wakes up and realizes she almost died taking a bullet for me. I still can't fathom why she came back for me. The shrink says that's because my sense of self-worth is shit. Actually, he said it's opprobrious, which is the same thing. Opprobrious just takes longer to say.

He's probably right, but damn. She killed a man and then almost died herself trying to save my life. That's fucking with my head a little bit. She's too sweet to live with Kaleo's death on her conscience. I'm worried it's going to eat away at her. He deserved what he got, but I hate that she had to be the one to kill him.

"Of course she'll let you," Lillian says. "She loves you, Michael. Everyone does."

Jesus. I don't know what the fuck I did to deserve friends like her and Tristan, but I'm grateful as hell I have them.

"We'll let you go. Call us if you need anything," Tristan says.

"We love you, Michael!" Lillian shouts.

"Fuck. I love you and Tristan, too," I mumble, clearing my throat when my chest pulses with a strange mix of emotions I can't untangle. It's been…well, for-fucking-ever since I said that to anyone but January. Titan was the last person besides her that I spoke those words to. "You know I mean that, right? You're like a sister to me, and your man is my best friend. Hell, he was my only friend for a long fucking time. He helped keep me alive. I owe you both more than I will ever be able to repay. You made me feel human when I didn't want to feel much of anything."

"Jesus," Tristan mutters. "You don't owe us a damn thing, Michael."

"You kept him alive, too," Lillian whispers. "And we feel the same about you. You're a part of our family, and you always will be, whether you live in Los Angeles or Seattle. Now go be with your girl. And let us know when she's awake."

"Will do."

"Bye, Michael."

I disconnect the phone and then push myself to my feet, moving closer to January's bed. Picking her hand up, I bring it to my lips and brush a kiss across her knuckles. Her fingers flutter around mine, and I damn near drop her hand in shock. My gaze flies to her hand to see her fingers flutter once more.

"Baby girl?"

My eyes flicker rapidly between her face and her hand, but she doesn't move again or open those pretty eyes up for me. I stand there for a good ten minutes before deciding it was just another of those involuntary movements she's been making for the last few days. Disappointment courses through me that she's not regaining consciousness yet.

"Fuck. Don't know how I survived seven years of not seeing those eyes. It's been five days, and I'm about to lose it," I mutter, not sure if I'm talking to her or to myself. Laying her hand back down, I grab my chair and drag it closer to her bedside. Once I'm settled, I lay my head on the mattress beside her arm and close my eyes.

Sleeping in a hospital is next to impossible, but I refuse to leave. When they stop by, Roman and his girl, Mila, bring me food and coffee. Mariah is here after work every day to spend a few hours with my girl. She usually brings me dinner and forces me to eat before she kicks my ass out until I shower.

There's a family waiting room, complete with a laundry room and showers, right outside the ICU. Leaving January's side for even that long stresses me out, but I'm not about to go toe-to-toe with Mariah. She's little, but I'm pretty sure she could kick my ass. Mostly because I'd let her do it, but also because I'm pretty fucking certain she's kin to Superwoman.

I must doze off because the next thing I know, someone's running their hand through my hair, pushing it away from my forehead. I imagine it's January and snuggle closer like the greedy bastard I am, not willing to give up the soft feeling rolling through me. It's peaceful and warm, and I haven't had much of either since Kaleo shot her.

"Ca-ade," a little voice croaks.

My eyes fly open, and I jolt upright.

January's emerald eyes are open, focused on me. Her pupils are dilated, confusion and distress dulling the normally bright color, but she's still so goddamn perfect it brings tears to my eyes.

"January," I whisper, choking on her name.

As soon as I speak, tears spill down her cheeks.

"No. No. Don't cry, baby girl." I scoot closer to the bed and cup her face between my shaking hands. "Everything is okay. I'm right here."

Her gaze flits across my face, her distress seeming to grow.

"You're in the hospital," I tell her, guessing that's part of the problem. She doesn't know where she is or what's going on. I remember waking up in the hospital after being stabbed the first time, panicking because I didn't know what the fuck was going on and I hurt like hell. I nearly busted my stitches trying to climb out of the bed. "Do you remember what happened?"

Her nose scrunches, and then she nods hesitantly. "K-Kal-eo?"

"Yeah, little monster," I whisper, wiping tears from her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs. "Kaleo shot you. You're going to be okay though. Please don't cry."

I don't mention the part about her killing him. If she asks later, I'll tell her the truth, but for right now, she doesn't need to think about that. She doesn't need to think about anything except healing so I can take her home.

She nods, but tears continue to spill down her cheeks. I'm not sure if she's just overwhelmed or in pain, but I reach for the call button and hit it to get her nurse in here. Now that she's in the step-down unit, the nurse isn't stationed right outside her door at all times.

"Are you thirsty?" I ask while we wait.

She nods again and licks her lips, grimacing.

I'm not sure if she's actually allowed to have water, but they have one of those standard-issue pink pitchers full of ice on the bedside tray, so I grab it and pour a little bit of the cold liquid into a Styrofoam cup, plop a straw into it, and then help her take a small sip. She tries to drink too fast, and I have to pull it away.

"Slow, little monster," I murmur when she narrows her eyes on me. "You gotta go slow."

I put the straw back to her lips and she takes a couple more sips before dropping her head back down on the pillow. Her eyes never leave my face, but she keeps blinking like she's trying to stay awake.

"Are you in any pain?"

She shakes her head and then nods. "A little bit," she whispers. Her voice is thin and raspy. She grimaces. "Throat hurts."

"You were on a ventilator for a little while."

Her eyes widen, filling with distress once more.

"Hey, it's okay." I lean down and brush my lips across her forehead, lingering there for a long moment. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise."

"Okay," she whispers.

"Miss James," her nurse says, bustling into the room. "It's good to see you awake, hon. I'm Dee, your nurse." She's middle-aged, with wide hips and her hair up in a tight bun. Her tawny skin gleams in the fluorescent light. "How are you feeling?"

"Hurting," January mumbles, reaching for my hand as Dee switches off the call light and starts checking over the IV bags and lines still hooked up all over the place.

I wrap my hand around January's, offering her a little of my strength. She's so out of it and afraid, confusion and fear evident in her eyes. I hate seeing her like this. I just want to pick her up and hold her until she feels safe, but I know I can't do that. She's still healing and doesn't need to be moved around. My arms still ache to feel her in them again, though.

"I'll bring you some pain medication and let Dr. Becker know you're awake," Dee promises.

"Need to pee," January mutters, her cheeks turning pink.

"No can do, hon. You have a catheter in. It'll make you feel like you have to pee, but it's doing all the work for you. You just gotta lay there and let it."

January turns wide eyes to me, silently pleading for me to help her out a little.

"The bullet pierced your kidney, baby girl," I murmur in a gentle voice, trying not to freak her out. "They had to go in to repair the damage and remove the bullet. You're going to be okay, though. Trust me?"

She nods instantly, which mends another piece of my heart.

Fuck, I love this girl.

"Sleep, sweetheart, and know that I've got you. That's all you need to worry about right now." I run my free hand through her hair, tugging gently when it catches on snarls. I've been giving her sponge baths, and Mariah's been brushing her hair out for her, but it's still tangled up. Doesn't matter, though. Still feels like silk in my rough hands.

Her eyes flutter as Dee slips from the room.

"I love you, January."

"Love you," she mumbles, and then she sleeps.

"Can I ask you something?" January asks me two days later, watching from her hospital bed with a sleepy look on her face as I strip my t-shirt over my head and pull on a clean one. She's been more alert today. They adjusted her meds to stay ahead of the pain without leaving her completely out of it like she has been since she woke up. She's feeling better. They think she may get to go home in a few days.

"Anything," I say immediately, tossing my shirt into the plastic laundry bag hanging on the closet door.

She bites her bottom lip, her green eyes filling with worry. She twists the corner of the thin blanket covering her and then untwists it, only to start all over as soon as it's flat.

"Talk to me, baby girl," I murmur. "What's wrong?"

"Was I pregnant?" she blurts out.

I stumble mid-step, shocked by her question. It's not one of the thousand or so I've been expecting. Hearing it throws me off.

"No," I rush to reassure her when her face pales. I take two quick steps back to her bedside and drop to my knees, turning her face until she's looking at me. Those bright emerald eyes are full of worry. "You weren't pregnant, baby girl. They ran a pregnancy test as a precaution." I don't tell her that it would probably have been too early for the test to pick it up if she was pregnant. That's not a worry she needs to live with.

"Okay," she whispers, still staring at me.

"Would you…did you want to be?" She always wanted a bunch of kids. I always wanted to give them to her, but I didn't think about getting her pregnant when we were together. Putting on a condom simply never crossed my mind. We've had so much between us for so long that I didn't want to think about putting another barrier between us. But I should have thought about it. We should have talked about it.

She shrugs a shoulder, her gaze darting away from mine. "I don't know," she whispers, her voice barely loud enough for me to hear. "We didn't use protection. I'm not on anything. I was worried."

"Worried that you were pregnant or that you might have lost the baby?" I ask, needing to know where her head is at. We haven't talked much since she woke up. She's been so out of it I didn't want to push too hard.

"That I might have lost the baby," she says after a breathless moment.

I take a minute to process her response and the way it makes my heart race. I don't know if this means she's thought about a future with me, if that's something she still wants. I know what I want—the same thing I've always wanted. Her .

I choose my words carefully, wanting to get this right. "Here's the thing," I say, playing with a strand of her hair. It gleams like gold in the fluorescent lighting. "Mariah told me what happened the day I told you the truth."

"Oh." She swallows hard, rapidly blinking those emerald eyes.

"It kills me to know you wanted to die," I whisper, my voice hoarse. My heart aches when I say the words, the same way it always does when I think about her wanting to give up and die. Losing her would destroy me. "I hate that you've been feeling like that for so long and had to face it alone."

"It's not your fault," she mumbles. "You're the reason I didn't do it. I…I thought about you and about the possibility of being pregnant, and I couldn't go through with it. I don't want to die. I just…I didn't know what else to do. I've been messed up for a long time, Cade. I feel like what happened is my fault, and it's overwhelming. I don't know how to handle feeling like I'm the reason my mom and Titan are dead."

"I understand that, sweetheart." I slide one hand up the side of her face and run it through her hair, scratching her scalp with my blunt nails. "But you gotta know it wasn't your fault. Titan loved you and wanted what was best for you. That doesn't make it your fault though, January. You didn't kill Titan and your mom."

"I know." She blinks at me again, the pain in her eyes wrecking me. "I still feel like it is, though."

"I feel like it's my fault, too," I admit, exhaling a pained breath. "I think we've both been overwhelmed for a long fucking time, feeling guilty because we survived and Titan and your mom didn't. Losing them kills me."

"Me too," she whispers, tears welling in her eyes. "I feel so guilty. All the damn time, I feel guilty that I'm still here, and they aren't. It isn't fair."

"It isn't fair," I rasp, my throat aching with emotion. "It'll never be okay or fair or make any goddamn sense. But I never want you to feel like dying is the only option because it isn't." I take a deep breath and then exhale it slowly. "But I also know I can't fix it for you, just like you can't fix my shit for me. We've both been holding onto a lot of baggage that we have to find a way to live with before it drags us both down. And I think we need to do that before we start thinking about bringing kids into this world."

She bobs her head and then licks her lips nervously. Something a lot like sadness crosses her face before she quickly schools her expression, trying to hide that emotion from me.

"That's not me saying I don't want kids with you," I tell her, knowing that's where her mind went. She still doesn't understand how much I love her. Hell, just knowing she's thought about having my kids makes me feel fifty feet tall and bulletproof. I want to beat on my chest and roar like Tarzan, but I can't do that. I'd look like a jackass. Instead, I tell her the truth. "I've thought about you pregnant with my kids so often over the years it's ridiculous."

I'm the last motherfucker who should have been dreaming about a wife and kids, but I did it anyway. Fantasized about what my life would be like if I was someone worthy of this incredible woman.

And then I'd look around and realize I was still in hell. It felt like having my soul ripped out of my body every fucking time.

"You have?" Her gaze flies back to mine, full of hope.

"Hell yeah." I grin at her and then shake my head, bemused because she still doesn't get it. "You're all I've thought about since we were kids. That won't ever change for me. I love you, baby girl. I always have. But I've fucked up enough with you. I can't do that anymore."

"What are you saying?" she whispers.

"I'm saying that you mean more to me than anything else ever will, and I can't risk losing you," I tell her, not mincing words because this is too important. She's too important. "I can't be selfish when it comes to you, not any longer. I know what it's like to live in this world without you. I was without you for 2,793 days, and it didn't work out for either of us. So, as much as I want babies with you, there's shit we both gotta do first."

She stares at me, not saying anything. Tears shine in her eyes again. I can't get a read on whether they're happy tears or sad tears, but I have to finish this and hope like hell she thinks a future with me is something she's willing to fight for once I've put it all out there. If she isn't, it'll rip me to shreds. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to change her mind if that's what it takes…but I want her to choose me, just like she did when she was thirteen and kissed me for the first time.

"But before we get there, you need to know something. And you probably aren't going to like it."

She swallows audibly, worry filling her eyes. "What?"

"After I told you the truth about what happened back then, I went after Kaleo," I murmur to her. "I got intel that he was pimping out teenage girls. I'd warned him once to leave you alone and to stop fucking around with selling women, but he didn't listen. I couldn't let it stand. I took everything from him. Before he attacked you, he hit back."

"What happened?" she asks, her voice a worried whisper.

"He called in an anonymous tip to LAPD." I blow out a breath. "I'm under investigation in connection with the murders of the Diablos who killed Titan and Jana. I was taken in for questioning the day you came home from Mariah's."

Her hand trembles as she reaches out for mine, clinging to me.

"I don't know if I'm going to face charges or not," I admit, shifting around when my knees start to ache from being on the floor for so long. I don't move, though. For another chance with this incredible woman, I'll stay on my knees, worshipping at her feet for as long as she'll let me.

She's quiet for a minute, processing this news. "I don't want you to go to prison," she whispers then, two tears making silent tracks down her porcelain cheeks. "I just got you back. I'm not ready to lose you."

Her words give me hope, but I push it down, refusing to feel it until the entire truth is out in the open. Secrets almost destroyed us once. I won't let them do it again.

"Do you remember what happened when Kaleo came after you?" I ask, stroking my thumbs along her cheekbones in slow passes to soothe her.

A shadow drifts through her eyes, and she grimaces. "I got my gun from the safe and came back for you," she whispers, that sweet voice trembling.

The fact that she owns a gun and knows how to use it is still fucking me up. I'm proud as hell of her for looking out for herself but pissed she had to do it.

"You didn't see me, but he did," she says. "When he saw me with the gun, h-he turned and shot me instead of you. I know…I know I killed him. I'm not sorry about it." Determination and anger flash in her eyes, turning her into that little lioness who fights like hell to protect what belongs to her. "I'm glad he shot me instead of you, Cade. It's the only reason you're still alive."

"Fuck," I mumble, pressing my head to her arm as a current of chaotic emotion runs through me strong and fast. My heart clenches in a vise. If I had to choose between us, I'd sacrifice myself for her every damn time. I love and hate knowing she'd make the same choice for me. I love that she believes I'm someone worth saving. I hate that she took a bullet to do it.

How do you even begin to comprehend the selflessness that took? The courage? She thinks she's weak, but she's so much braver than she realizes.

Knowing she remembers killing Kaleo wrecks me. I don't want her to remember a single second of it. She's too damn sweet to live with that memory.

"I'm so fucking sorry, January," I whisper when I compose myself. I lift my head, locking eyes with her. "I'm so sorry for all of it."

"I'm not," she whispers back. "He's taken enough from me. I wasn't letting him take you, too." She pushes her hand through my hair, brushing it away from my forehead. A little smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "I know there's a lot we need to work out, but I'm kind of hoping we can do it together."

"Yeah?" I ask, staring at her lips because I can't help myself.

She nods, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip before she releases it, leaving it wet and glistening. "Do you…I mean, are you–?"

"Am I what, little monster? Say it," I whisper, running my thumb along her bottom lip. It's so soft. Every part of her is soft and sweet. My cock throbs in my jeans, begging for relief he isn't getting any time soon. Until I'm inside January, he's just going to have to suffer.

"Are you staying?" she breathes out.

"Do you want me to stay?"

She nods, not breaking eye contact.

"Fuck," I mumble and then lean forward and take her lips in a bruising kiss. Our tongues dance together and then break apart before coming together again. Her lips are so damn soft against mine. So is her tongue. Kissing her is heaven and hell at once. Heaven because she's perfect. Hell, because I want her spread out beneath me, but I can't have that yet.

Reluctantly, I ease off, slowing the kiss. She sighs into my mouth, her breath so fucking sweet. Her hands are all twisted up in my hair, holding me to her as I nip at her lips and then press mine to each corner of her mouth.

"Cade," she whispers quietly, just like she used to do when we were kids, and I'd kiss her. It's still my favorite sound in the world.

"You're my home, January," I whisper a moment later, leaning back so she can see me and know I mean what I'm telling her. Her lips are swollen from my kisses. She looks like a little doll with happiness brimming in those bright eyes and her cheeks flushed. "Even if you had kicked me out of here today, I wouldn't be going back to Seattle. I'm staying right here with you."

"You are?" Her expression is so full of hope that I can't help but chuckle at her.

"I never once stopped loving you. I never stopped wanting you," I tell her, my voice firm so she knows I'm not feeding her a line. "I'm not sure I'll ever believe someone like me—someone who's done the things I've done—could possibly deserve you, but I'm going to try like hell to prove myself wrong. I spent years in hell, waiting for you."

"Since she is here, in a place of blackness, here I stay and wait," she whispers the words from the Stephen Crane poem I had immortalized in my skin.

"Not anymore," I tell her. "I'm done waiting, and I'm done making you wait. We're both breaking free of the blackness. Together."

"Together," she vows.

That promise reflects in her eyes, sending my heart soaring.