by Cassia Leo
Maybe I was better off without him.
Just allowing myself to think those vile words made it difficult to breathe. How could he speak those four words aloud?
After checking the map in the lobby, Drea, Dylan, and I walked along the corridors in silence, our footsteps muffled by the sage-green commercial carpeting. After passing another café, we arrived at the nurses’ station in the intensive care unit. We were quickly spotted by a nurse typing on a computer, which was mounted on a mobile stand with casters. She rolled the computer closer to us and, without looking away from the screen, asked how she could help.
“I’m looking for Ace Moretti,” I said.
She flicked her gaze in my direction, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you mean Lorenzo Moretti? Are you family?”
It never even occurred to me that Ace might not be my bodyguard’s real name.
“I’m his employer. He’s my bodyguard. He was shot while trying to protect me. I just wanted to check in on him and make sure he’s being well taken care of.”
She looked me up and down, then cocked an eyebrow. “He was released a few hours ago.” She watched my face, almost as if she was trying to read my reaction. “Is it true your husband invented the Halo app?”
I blinked a few times as I tried to think of a response to this question, which obviously meant the nurses had been talking about us. “Yes, he did. Thank you for your help.”
I spun around quickly and headed for the exit. The swinging double doors dumped us out of the ICU into the brightly-lit corridor from where we’d come. The fluorescent lights seared spots in my vision, making me dizzy as I wondered whether everyone in the hospital was now familiar with me, Ace, and Isaac. Did they think what happened to Ace and Isaac was my fault?
“Are you okay?” Dylan asked. “You look pale.”
I nodded. “I’m fine. I need to see Isaac. I need to apologize.”
Drea grabbed both my arms as she shook her head. “Have you gone completely mental? What are you going to apologize for? For being in the wrong place at the wrong time? For having a minor meltdown in a very stressful situation?”
I looked up at her, my eyes beseeching her understanding. “If I hadn’t brought Ace to my mom’s house none of this would have happened.”
She stared at me, mouth agape. “Are you being serious? Are you really going to choose that one bit of information as the cause for this whole fiasco? It couldn’t possibly be that Isaac has violent PTSD outbursts, or that Ace behaves like a gunslinger in a Western film, or that Jack blackmailed you into getting a bodyguard? It couldn’t be any of those things, right? Are you completely mad?”
I sighed with defeat. “Fine. It’s not all my fault. But I do need to see him.”
Dylan shook his head. “No, honey. That is not a good idea. That is the kind of idea you put in a rocket and shoot straight to Mars, where it can die a slow, painful death.”
My jaw dropped. “Really? You two aren’t going to let me visit my neighbor who was shot on my property?”
Dylan and Drea exchanged skeptical looks.
I let out a puff of laughter. “Wow. You guys trust me as much as Jack. Thanks a lot.” I set off toward the West Pavilion exit doors. “Fine. Let’s go home.”
“Okay!” Drea exclaimed. “Okay, okay. We’ll pay Isaac a visit. All three of us.”
I rolled my eyes as I followed her and Dylan back toward the intensive care unit. “I didn’t realize I needed chaperones. You know, Jack is the one who left me. I did nothing wrong. You guys are acting as if I’m guilty of the things Jack’s accused me of. I seem to remember you saying something about this situation not being my fault.”
Drea pulled a hair tie out of the pocket of her gray hoodie and pulled her dark shoulder-length hair into a ponytail at her nape. “My lips are sealed. I shan’t speak another word.”
Dylan grabbed my hand as we entered the ICU and leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “Please tell Isaac I took good care of Boomer.”
I smiled. “You took great care of him. I’ll make sure he knows that. But don’t you want to go in and tell him yourself?”
He shook his head as we approached the nurses’ station. “I think you should go in there alone.”
“May I help you?” said the Asian nurse behind the counter.
There were three nurses here now, and none of them were the one we spoke to a few minutes ago.
“I’m here to see Isaac Evans,” I said, trying to sound as pleasant and cool as possible, as if I belonged there.
“Are you family?” she asked, though it sounded more like a challenge than a question.
“I’m sorry. No, I’m not family,” I began, flustered by my sudden realization that I probably wouldn’t be allowed to see Isaac. “I’m a friend. Well, not like… I mean, I’m a neighbor.”
“A neighbor?” she replied, her words dripping with suspicion.
“Well, he’s my neighbor and my friend. But just a friend. I’m—”
I cut myself off before I told this stranger I was married. Technically, I was separated. Again. But Jack had made it very clear last night that this separation was permanent. After throwing my clothes at me, he finished getting dressed and left, probably to have beers with Nate. A large part of me hoped he’d left because he couldn’t bear to watch me pack my things and leave.
I grabbed Drea by her yoga-sculpted shoulders. “But she’s his wife,” I said, thrusting Drea toward the counter.
Drea, being the loyal friend she always was, did not hesitate. “Truth be told, Isaac and I are separated at the moment. But there’s nothing like a good old-fashioned gunshot wound to bring the spark back. You know what I mean?”
The nurse did not look particularly impressed with this display, but she seemed to decide we were either fairly harmless or not worth the trouble. “He was moved into a private room this afternoon. Take the elevator up to the eighth floor and follow the signs to the patient rooms. He’s in 829.”
“Thank you!” Drea and I replied in unison.
The nurse rolled her eyes and went back to moving her mouse around and staring at the computer screen.
In the elevator, Drea could no longer keep quiet. “Is it a crime in America to lie to hospital staff? Will I be arrested and thrown in one of those rape-y women’s prisons?”
Dylan threw back his head and let out a loud guffaw as he pressed the number eight button on the control panel. “You’re asking this now?”
Drea smiled at me. “No offense, darling, but if I get arrested and put in prison, where I’m fondled by a woman named Bertha who smells like whale sweat, I will stop speaking to you for at least a week. Understood?”
I was about to answer in the affirmative when the elevator stopped at the third floor and the doors slid open. A young biracial couple walked in, him carrying an empty car seat and her carrying a tiny baby swaddled in a soft blue blanket. My heart stuttered, making my breath hitch as I stepped out of the way, pressing my back into the corner of the elevator to give them more space.
I could practically hear Drea and Dylan’s worried thoughts. Suddenly, the guy with the car seat flung his arm out to stop the elevator doors from closing.
“Sorry. I thought you were going down,” he said, though I was too busy staring at the floor to know who the comment was directed toward.
As they stepped out of the elevator and the shiny doors slid closed behind them, I let out a sour breath. I was grateful neither Drea nor Dylan asked if I was okay. I was so fucking tired of not being okay. I wanted to just pretend I was fine. That I wasn’t trying my hardest to block out visions of my son’s dead body from my thoughts.
When we arrived at room 829, Drea and Dylan stopped in the middle of the corridor. I stared at the door, which was ajar a few inches, no trace of light spilling out from within. If he was asleep, I would take it as a sign that this visit was a bad idea. I would go home and never bother Isaac again.
I wish I knew what I would do if he was awake.
“And if he’s awake?” she asked.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You can head home and I’ll catch an Uber.”
She stared at me for a moment, then she nodded. “Well, in case he’s awake, give me a hug.”
I hugged Drea and Dylan, probably a bit harder than was called for, but neither seemed to mind. I swallowed hard as I turned back to the door and gently pushed it open.
As I stepped inside, I could hear the sound of a car commercial coming from the TV that hung in the corner of the ceiling. 280 horsepower. Superior handling.
Isaac was sitting up in the hospital bed with his left leg propped up on a couple pillows. His eyes were closed. I was about to turn around and leave, when his eyelids opened slowly and our eyes met.
“Laurel?”
The haircut I’d given him a few weeks ago had grown out, his light golden-brown, sun-kissed hair sticking out in all different directions. Yet, somehow, it looked purposeful, a calculated mess to match his usual gritty appearance, which had been almost completely stripped away the moment they put him in a hospital gown. But his voice was still gruff, even a bit hoarse, maybe from being intubated during surgery. Or maybe he was thirsty.
“Hey,” I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
He didn’t smile. He just stared at me in silence, and it dawned on me he was probably contemplating telling me to leave. The thought of Isaac being angry with me hadn’t even occurred to me, but now it seemed like a completely logical reaction. A dark sadness washed over me as I turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
I spun around, and the smile on his face was both welcoming and heartbreaking. It wasn’t a real smile, like the eye-crinkling grin I’d grown accustomed to. But, like me, he was trying.
I closed my eyes as another wave of sorrow crashed over me. Despite his injuries, mental and physical, Isaac was trying not to blame me for something that was out of my control. This was more than I could say for Jack.
I took a few slow, measured steps in his direction. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 4
Isaac
One moment, you think you know what your life is going to look like for the next thirty or fifty years. The next moment, you’re moving halfway across the country to get away from your flesh and blood.
Three years ago, I thought I’d finish my third tour and come home to marry my fiancée. We’d pop out a few kids and settle down in a suburb not far from where I grew up in Stillwater, Minnesota. Not that popping out a few kids was an option anymore. And I sure as fuck never expected to come home from Afghanistan and find my twin brother had gotten my fiancée pregnant. I sure as hell didn’t expect Dane to commit suicide over the guilt of betraying me. But never in a million fucking years did I expect to find happiness in the humbled gaze of a beautifully broken married woman.
The joy and sadness in Laurel’s brown eyes didn’t belong to me, but it sure as hell felt like it did. Something felt different today. The reticence in her eyes was gone, replaced by contrition. It reminded me of one of my favorite sayings: It’s better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.
I smiled at this thought, and her eyes lit up. “Have a seat,” I said, motioning to the chair next to my bed.
She flashed me a warm smile as she took a seat. “I wanted to see you to apologize for… your leg,” she began, her eyes focused on her hands, which were clasped in her lap.
“No need to apologize. Unless you’re the one who shot me. Did you shoot me?”
She finally looked up and narrowed her eyes at me. “Do you really not remember any of it?”
I bit my lip as I took in the feisty look in her eyes. “Not a single bit of it,” I replied. “Though, it seems like we must have had some fun.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
I laughed at the look of pure terror on her face. “I mean that it must have been a helluva wild time if I ended up in the hospital.”
She clutched her chest as she let out a sigh of relief.
“Wait a minute,” I continued. “Are you telling me you don’t remember anything that happened, either?”
She focused her gaze downward again, almost as if she were ashamed, then she shook her head. “I just remember seeing… seeing them trying to hold you down and then I just… blacked out and woke up in the hospital. But…”
I waited a moment for her to continue. “But what?” I finally asked.
She looked up again. “Dylan sort of filled me in on the rest, and he told me…” Her eyes were locked on mine, as if she was waiting for me to interrupt her and finish her sentence, but I had no clue what she was going to say. She opened her mouth again, pausing for a moment before she said, “Dylan told me you said something to me when they put you in the ambulance. You said… I love you.”
The mild amusement I’d been feeling, the joy at seeing Laurel’s glowing face, vanished in an instant. But not because I was embarrassed by this information or worried that my ill-timed confession might cause problems between Laurel and her husband. I was afraid Laurel was here to clarify that she would never feel the same way.
“I don’t remember that,” I replied.
My next instinct was to apologize for any trouble I may have caused. But that would be disingenuous.
I didn’t want to cause Laurel any pain, especially after everything she’d been through. But what little I’d learned about her over the past two months told me that she might be better off without Jack. Though, I conceded I probably didn’t know either of them well enough to make that sort of judgment.
Maybe it was selfish, but I didn’t want Laurel to end up like me. I sure as hell wished someone had warned me about Nicole before I planned a future with her. I wished someone had the guts to tell me about her betrayal before I walked right smack into the center of it.
“I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble with… with your husband,” I began, forcing the word husband out carefully. “I hope I didn’t make things worse for—”
I stopped mid-sentence when a silhouette appeared in the doorway. Speak of the fucking devil.
Laurel opened her mouth to say something, but she quickly noticed my gaze fixed on something behind her. As she turned her head, I savored the look of surprise on Nicole’s face.
Did she know what had happened at Laurel’s house last night? Did she know I’d told another woman I loved her? Did she know that woman was sitting at my bedside?
I hoped to God the answer to all those questions was a resounding yes.
“I’ll come back,” Nicole said, her voice breaking on the last syllable.
Laurel stood up quickly. “Oh, no. You don’t have to go. I was just about to leave. Please come in.”
Nicole took a few careful steps inside as my nephew, Ethan, slowly lifted his head from her shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie. You can go back to sleep.”
“I’m thirsty, Mommy,” Ethan said in his tired toddler voice.
My eyes flitted toward Laurel’s face to see her reaction to this intrusion. I’d told her enough about Nicole for her to guess who this visitor was. The painfully forced smile on her face as she watched Nicole straightening the front of Ethan’s striped T-shirt broke my heart.
“He’s beautiful,” she whispered to Nicole as she made her way to the door.
“Laurel, wait,” I called out as she stepped out into the corridor, but she didn’t stop.
“Damn,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“I’m sorry,” Nicole began. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I—”
“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. It’s…” I sighed as I realized I couldn’t tell Nicole about how Laurel had lost her little boy. It wasn’t my story to tell. “It’s fine. Why are you here?”
She looked offended by my blunt delivery, but she quickly checked herself. “Look, this is not easy for me e
ither.”
She paused for a moment as she pried Ethan’s hand off the pendant hanging from the necklace around her neck. The necklace I gave her when I apologized for cheating on her after my second tour. I didn’t think she’d worn it on purpose, as an attempt to manipulate my emotions by reminding me of my own indiscretion. In every photo of Ethan my mother had sent me over the last two and a half years — through Emily’s text messages — Nicole was always wearing the necklace.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” I said, desperate for her to get to the point.
She took a few steps until she was standing at my bedside. “I wanted you to meet your nephew,” she said, shifting Ethan so he was balancing on her hip as she turned him to face my bed. “Ethan do you know who that is?” She turned back to me. “He’s seen lots of pictures of you.”
“Daddy!” Ethan exclaimed.
Nicole shook her head adamantly. “No, sweetie. This is your Uncle Isaac.”
Ethan stuck his hand out toward me and turned it from side to side in a clumsy wave. “Hi, Daddy.”
I pressed my mouth into a hard line to try to keep from laughing, but it was no use. I covered my face and squeezed my eyes shut so Ethan wouldn’t see me holding in my laughter.
“I’m sorry,” Nicole said, and I could hear the nervous laughter in her voice. “I don’t know what I expected. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head and opened my eyes as I let out a short burst of laughter. “It’s fine. You can’t expect a two-year-old to understand the concept of identical twins. It’s just…”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. Maybe it was whatever pain meds they were pumping into me through this IV drip, but I was suddenly beginning to realize how soap opera-ish this whole situation with Nicole and my twin brother Dane was. And it was tragic, but also strangely surreal, that my brother’s son was now mistaking me for his dead father.
I took a moment to compose myself and take a few deep breaths. “Sorry. I think they’ve got me hooked up to some happy drugs. I shouldn’t have laughed at that.”