Page 17 of The Final Cut

“I’m scared,” I whisper. “I don’t want to say that in front of them. They already know. It makes me mad that they know. I’m scared, and I need you, and you are not allowed to leave me with all these men who think bossing me around is a love language.”

The ventilator hisses.

I lean my forehead lightly against the back of his hand.

“They’re going to make me leave,” I say. “I haven’t figured out how to stop them yet.”

Footsteps shift near the door. One of the men. Nash, probably. Ever is watching the cameras. Nash would hear strategy even in a whisper.

I keep my eyes on Cal.

“I already lost my family behind one closed door,” I say. “I can’t do it again.”

The nurse leaves the computer and checks one of the lines near his shoulder. Her face is gentle enough that I brace before she speaks.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I need to cut the visit short for now. We have to finish getting him situated, and the doctor wants another set of labs drawn.”

My hand tightens around Cal’s.

The rubber bands dig into my wrist.

“I can stay out of the way.”

“I know.” Her voice stays soft. “Come back in a little while. We’ll make that happen.”

A little while.

Those words have no shape. They could mean twenty minutes. They could mean hours. They could mean after some new machine starts screaming and someone decides I am safer in a waiting room while strangers crack my life open again.

I bend and press my lips to Cal’s knuckles.

“I love you,” I whisper. “Stay.”

His hand does not move.

I set it down, every cell in me screaming, straighten the blanket near his wrist because it gives me one more agonized second, then step back before the nurse has to ask again.

The hallway looks too bright when I leave.

Nash is waiting with his back to the wall, arms folded, face stripped of everything except decision. Ever stands near the nurse’s station, eyes moving, one finger pressed to the earpiece he still wears. Shiloh has my untouched coffee in one hand and the paper bag in the other. Deacon is farther down the hall, where he can see both the elevators and the stairwell.

They arranged themselves around me while I was inside.

A cage made of men who love me.

“I’m staying,” I say.

No one looks surprised.

Nash pushes off the wall. “The hospital is compromised.”

“I’m staying.”

Ever’s gaze cuts to the elevator bank, then back to me. “La Rosa got someone onto this floor.”

“She ran.”

“She got close enough to know where he is.”