Chapter 37

THIRTY-SEVEN

Colin

N ot long after Owen stormed out, I'm told I have a nasty concussion, and I can't go home alone.

What is it going to take for these people to understand that I don't have anyone to call? I can barely think past the pain invading my body and now I have to find a fucking babysitter?

Owen said Isaac is on his way, but I don't want to face him, or anyone else.

Calling Owen, I damn near sob when it rings, then goes to voicemail.

What the fuck?

Is he really ignoring me?

My heart tightens a little more, the shadows of my soul creep further into the light, struggling to stay alive.

"I'm sorry. We can't release you alone. You need someone to help you and watch for signs of worsening symptoms," the doctor says.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," I snap. I can't take anymore.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and my heart leaps in hope that it's Owen. Baby Bird.

With a shaky breath, I answer it.

"Hello?"

"Colin! What the hell is happening? We were on our way, but Owen was arrested, and Oliver is losing his shit." Isaac talks too fast.

Arrested? Owen?

I don't understand.

"Can you come get me?" My voice is thick, exhausted.

"Of course. Did Owen not go there? Are you okay? What happened?"

"He did…and then he left." I barely manage the words.

Isaac tells me he's on his way and I hang up without answering any questions. I don't know what's going on with anything anymore. I just want to sleep. No more thinking.

A few minutes later, Brittany comes in with Oliver and Isaac.

Isaac gasps and claps his hand over his mouth.

Oliver cocks his head. "I understand now."

Isaac turns on Oliver and half shoves him. "Manners! And what even are you talking about?"

I flinch at the unexpected movement.

Isaac freezes, tears filling his eyes. "I'm so sorry." His tone is soft, and he reaches for my hand slowly. "Hey, you're okay now."

I squeeze his hand, unable to look him in the eyes. The last thing I want is for anyone to see me like this."

"We're going to take you home, okay? The spare room is made up for you."

"My spare room is a fencing studio at the moment." What is he talking about? Am I sleeping in there? Would Owen really kick me out of a room he barely sleeps in? My throat burns with unshed tears. I'm so damn tired of crying. I am not a fucking victim. I'm a survivor, and that's not changing today.

All I need is to sleep. Tomorrow I'll be stronger. Not as broken.

Brittany brings me some scrubs to change into since my clothes are ruined, but she hands the bag to Oliver, who stares at it.

"Throw that away."

She flicks her gaze to me, and after getting my shoes out of it. I tell her it's fine. I don't want to see those clothes again either. She gives them my discharge instructions, and Oliver asks some questions like it's a fucking job. I don't have the energy to argue with him, so I let it go. I'm shocked he's being this nice.

"What about sex?" Oliver asks her with a straight face.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I assume his sex life doesn't include as much impact as playing hockey, but does he need to abstain from orgasms during the healing process?"

What. The. Fuck?

"Oliver!" Isaac snaps. "I'm sure if it's a concern, Colin can ask his doctor in a few days."

"He should definitely check in with his primary care in a day or two. He needs to be monitored, and those stitches will need to come out," she says as she hands him the paperwork. "He has prescriptions to pick up at the pharmacy. If any of his symptoms get worse, bring him back immediately."

I'm wheeled out to Oliver's waiting driver and helped into the car. Luckily, I'm given something for the nausea so I only want to die a little with all the movement.

"Your father?" Oliver demands when the doors close.

"Leave him alone," Isaac hisses. "Can't you see he needs to rest?"

"My brother is in booking, kitten. I need to know why, since he won't tell me."

"Yes—" My voice cracks, and I'm forced to stop talking. I can't look at him. I'm sure he's never been in a position like I currently am. He can't possibly understand. "Thank you." I force the words out, defeated by the fact that I need his fucking help.

"For what?"

"This. Picking me up."

Isaac moves to sit next to me and holds my hand. I tense when he gets close, but I don't stop him.

"You're family now. I'd do anything for family." Oliver is typing on his phone. What he's doing is anyone's guess.

I blink, but I'm too tired to question why I'm family now and not when I married Owen. I let Isaac comfort me. He's a little mother hen sometimes, and right now, I need to feel like someone cares.

"No wonder Owen's in jail. It's good he controls himself better than I do. If it were me, your father would be dead. But he won't get away with this."

My eyes dart to Oliver."What does that mean?"

"It means that if I can't have him murdered, I'll ruin him. Destroy everything he thinks he's built."

"Why? You hate me."

"Because my brother loves you. That means you're one of us, and we protect our own."

Owen's strange profession of love before he left hits me in the chest again. I start to shake my head, but stop when it makes the world turn. "Owen doesn't love me."

"Owen was arrested for brutally assaulting your father. Do you for one second believe he'd have that kind of emotional response for anyone else? Unlikely," Oliver says it like I'm a moron missing the point.

He's wrong, but I don't have the mental capacity to argue with him. I can barely keep up with him on a good day. "Whatever."

"No. Not whatever. Owen doesn't like people. Ever. He tolerates me and Olivia because he doesn't have a choice, and I'm an asshole and force him to, and it's easier to just do what I want. You though, you're different. He's happy with you. I hate to say that you are what he needed, but I can't ignore the signs. I've never seen him happy before you." Oliver shrugs like it's a weird little thing he just must accept and not be bothered by. "So you're part of the family, like it or not." Oliver's idea of family would be forced.

I don't have a response to any of what he said, and him being nice is creeping me out. I must look worse than I expected. "You got one thing right. You are an asshole."

Isaac snickers, and we pull to a stop at the curb outside of their building.

"Why are we here?"

"Because you need a babysitter, and I'm not sleeping on your couch. I've seen the pictures. You've done grotesque things on it." Oliver rolls his eyes and exits the car, offering me a hand out. I stare at it for a second, then take it, secretly grateful for the assistance.

We get upstairs with minimal fuss, and I head for Owen's old room. I don't know if I'm hoping it still smells like him, like us, or not. I know a part of me will find comfort in it, but it'll hurt like hell too.

When I open the door, it wafts over me. Owen. It's so strong it catches in my lungs.

"Are you okay?" Isaac has a hand on my lower back in case I fall.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm fine."

"You don't need to apologize."

I shrug a little, my shoulder protesting the movement. I don't want to be here, but I have nowhere else to go. I wish I could just disappear.

"Do you want to shower? I can run a bath in the big tub if you'd rather do that."

I probably need a fucking babysitter for that, too. The last thing I want right now is for anyone to see me naked. It's just more vulnerability. "No, I just want to sleep."

"Okay." He ushers me to the bed and pulls back the blanket. They must have had the cleaner in here since the bed is made with what looks like military corners.

I get settled and basically have to force Isaac to leave. I just need time to process and break. No one wants witnesses to that. Curling on my side, I let the tears fall. Let my body feel the fear and anger and rejection. I let my body shake and tremble, soaking the pillow with tears, and muffle my sobs with the sheet.

How long I lay there making a mess of the bed, I don't know, but I'm exhausted when I calm down. I try to sleep, but I can't. I roll over and try that. Nope.

Sitting up, I look around and see the chaise lounge in the corner. There's a longing in my gut to be under it that I'm not strong enough to ignore. Grabbing the throw blanket off the end of the bed, I slide under it and cover myself in the blanket. There's barely enough room for me to curl up on my side, but I manage it.

Why is this so comforting? I guess I understand why Owen comes under here.

There's a soft knock on the door, and it cracks open.

"You can rest here as long as you need."

"Thank you," I mumble.

Oliver pauses in the doorway but doesn't say anything else, just closes the door quietly and leaves me in peace.