The Blessing (The Colorado Series Book 1)

by Elizabeth Price

  “You’ve been paying for it, man,” I quickly reason with him. “Now, give me the gun.”

  He shoves his body away from mine, thrashing around above me. I catch him off balance and manage to flip him over onto his back, throwing myself on top of him. There’s no reasoning with him. That much is fucking clear. So, I decide to forcibly rip the gun from his hands. I’m not letting anyone fucking die today. There’s been too much death in my life already. My body is inches from his as I grab his hand and try to pry the gun away. He has his finger tightly wedged in the trigger guard, twitching on the trigger, but I don’t let it fucking scare me. I can’t let him die like this. I can’t have his death on my conscious, too. My eyes snap straight to Travis’s as the gun goes off.

  The pain is piercing hot and unbearable, but it quickly numbs as my body shuts down. My ears are ringing. My head is throbbing, vibrating with sound. The room begins to spin as the colors begin to blur together. I hear Travis scream my name before my world goes black.

  The muffled sounds of concerned voices, frantic footsteps, and an annoying consistent beeping stirs me into consciousness. It takes a moment for my body to play catch-up with my brain, but my eyelids finally flutter open. Nothing looks familiar to me. Everything is sterile and impersonal. My eyes dart around the room at the other beds lining the walls. I can hear moans from the other occupants in the room, but I can’t make them out. Everything is still one befuddled blur. The smell of iodoform and countless chemicals burn my nostrils, making me want to be anywhere but here.

  I try to sit up, but my head is fucking aching worse than any hangover I’ve ever had. My head falls back against the pillow as my brain pulsates against my skull. I groan, noticing how dry my fucking mouth feels. I move my mouth around until some saliva manages to wet my tongue and cringe at the taste of disinfectant and medicine. My throat fucking aches. I realize my entire body aches as my world becomes less of a blur. What the hell happened?

  “Look who’s awake,” an unfamiliar woman says, bending over my bed to get a better look at me.

  Before I can register who the fuck she is, she helps me into a sitting position and hands me a cup of ice chips for my throat. My haze begins to lift as I suck on the ice, causing my vision to become clearer. I feel like I’ve woken up from a dream. An extremely bad and disturbing nightmare. I don’t remember much. I sure as hell don’t remember how I ended up here, but I remember finding Travis and trying my fucking hardest to save him. My eyes widen at the memory. I sit up further in bed, ignoring the pain that shoots from my head all the way down to my toes. I wildly look around the room for a glimpse of him.

  “Sit back, Mr. Warren,” the woman, who I assume is a nurse, says. “Your surgery was successful, but now you’ll need to relax and take it easy.”

  My surgery? Suddenly, I remember fucking everything. I’m quickly brought back to reality and everything over the last few hours quickly flood into my conscious mind. My eyes are finally open to everything and it’s fucking horrifying. My eyes scan down at my aching body, seeing that my right shoulder is wrapped up in bandages. Everything else seems to still be intact but bruising and swelling covers a large area of my body, adding to the dull pain of my aching muscles.

  The nurse gives me a sympathetic look before quickly walking toward her desk and coming back with what looks to be a syringe in her hand, causing me to fucking flinch. I’m covered in tattoos, yet I have a phobia of needles. How fucking ironic. Instead of poking me with it, she injects something into my IV line and gives me a comforting smile.

  “The Dilaudid should make you feel better pretty soon,” she says, simply. When she’s finished, I look up at her, waiting for an explanation. While I remember shit, my memory is still kind of fuzzy. Therefore, I don’t know how reliable my narrative truly is. In terms I barely understand, she explains I’d been shot in the shoulder and shattered my clavicle. She told me I was truly lucky the paramedics arrived as quickly as they did. If they hadn’t, my situation could have been very bleak.

  “The shot to your shoulder severed your brachial artery and brachial plexus nerve. If you had arrived mere minutes later you could’ve been in a lot of trouble. Someone must be looking out for you,” she says with a smile. I’m sure she intended her comment to be comforting.

  I snort at her words and a sharp pain shoots up my side.

  “Are you ready to see your family? Once we get you settled in your room, you’ll be able to see them.”

  I shake my head, quickly scanning the room again for Travis. Is he alive? I remember the look in his eyes before everything went black. It was so haunted—filled with so much pain it would’ve taken my fucking breath away if the blood loss hadn’t caused me to pass out. What if he ended his own life after I blacked out and I wasn’t there to protect him from himself?

  “Travis?” I ask, not recognizing the sound of my own shaky voice. It’s rough and sounds like I’ve smoked multiple packs of cigarettes a day for fucking decades.

  The nurse’s brows crease with confusion, and I know she doesn’t understand who the fuck I’m referring to. I don’t know if this is good or bad news. If he was in critical condition he would’ve been taken to this hospital, as well. The nurse would’ve most likely known the name or heard of another gunshot injury at some point during the night. That is, if he went into surgery, considering she works in the recovery room. If Travis hadn’t been rushed to the ER, then there are only two possibilities my drugged-up mind can come up with: The first being—he’s alive and decided not to go through with ending his own life. The second… Well, the second possibility isn’t something I want to contemplate. Travis has to be fucking okay. If I did all of this for nothing it would be fucking devastating. Not because I ended up in a hospital bed because of him. Hell, I’d take a bullet for him multiple times if it meant I’d be saving his life. It’d be fucking catastrophic because his death would mean I failed again. He’d be another person I wasn’t able to fucking save. As illogical as I know it sounds, I can’t deny the guilt that weighs on my heart every day. I can’t ignore the voice in my head that screams I could’ve done better.

  “Let’s get him to his room,” my nurse says to another one.

  She grabs my IV bag from the pole and hooks it onto my hospital bed before she wheels me out of the recovery room with the help of another nurse. The corridors are fairly quiet for a trauma hospital, making me wonder how fucking late… or early it is. How long was I out for? I feel like I could fall right back to sleep. Once they get me to my room, my nurse helps me to the bathroom. My bladder feels like it’s going to explode after all the IV fluid.

  “Thanks...” I begin to say as I look for her ID badge.

  “Debbie,” she quickly supplies before giving me a kind smile which has the power to put my heart at ease for a moment. “I’ll go get your family and tell them you’re finally settled into your room so they can come back to see you. They’ve been waiting for you for a while.”

  My heart drops at the thought of my family worrying about me. I can’t imagine how rough this has been on Ronnie. She’s always worrying about me enough as it is; now I’ve given her something to actually stress out about. I can’t imagine how fucking distraught she must be. I’m surprised she hasn’t busted back here already just to make sure I was alive. Ronnie isn’t the type of girl you can fuck with, and she’s definitely not the type to wait patiently when she thinks someone needs her. I could kick myself in the ass for not calling her before I went to Travis’s house. My stomach turns at the thought of her crying in the waiting room. I want to see her immediately.

  I don’t have to wait long before my whole family comes rushing into my room with Nurse Debbie diligently following behind them. As soon as I see the look on Ronnie’s face, I fucking breakdown in front of everyone. The heartache swimming in her green eyes with the worry etched on her beautiful face makes doing anything fucking difficult. I just want her to hold me. I just want her to tell me that all this shit is okay and everything will t
urn out fine. I’ve never needed anyone before, but damn it, I need Ronnie like I need air.

  “Oh, Trev!” she cries as she rushes toward my bed with our teary-eyed son in her embrace.

  As soon as she gets close enough to touch me, she stops and stares down at my wounds, taking everything in with a look of disbelief on her face. Don’t cry for me, angel. Everything’s okay now that we’re together. I spent the night blinded by rage and the painful burn of betrayal. I’d selfishly searched for vengeance—or some sliver of understanding. I could’ve died tonight and Grey would’ve lost another father. I can’t take risks like this one ever again. The fucked-up part of all this is I don’t even know the outcome of my risky behavior. If Travis died will any of this shit have been worth it? It’s strange—I always thought if I ever found my brother’s murderer, I’d kill him with my bear fucking hands. Yet, when I heard Travis’s truth, I found forgiveness instead of brutal rage.

  I hold out my freshly bandaged hand and urge Ronnie to come forward, wanting desperately to feel her warm body wrapped around mine. A sob escapes from her lips as soon as she touches my fingertips. She carefully sits on the hospital bed at my side, wrapping one of her arms around me, while the other arm holds our crying son safely on her lap.

  “Dada?” Grey questions with an uncontrolled sob. “Dada!” His large, worrisome looking eyes dart around my face. They quickly become horror filled as he takes in my appearance. I watch as his bottom lip begins to quiver before he sobs even harder.

  “It’s okay, buddy. Daddy is okay now.”

  I give Ronnie a quick kiss on the cheek, enjoying the way her soft skin feels under my busted lip before asking her to sit Grey on my lap. I pull him against my chest and hold him as tightly as my injuries will allow. He’s shaking in my arms, his emotions radiating off his body and hitting me like a smack in the fucking face. He could’ve lost me tonight. My rash behavior could’ve destroyed this little guy. I close my eyes and try to gain control over myself but, as I’m surrounded by people that I love, it’s hard to do so. When I open my eyes again I look to my parents, who are quietly talking with my nurse. Mom’s in tears and Dad has his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder. His entire body is tense as he listens to Debbie speak. What the fuck could she be saying to them that’s so distressing? Is it about Travis?

  “Dada!” Grey whines again, begging for my attention.

  “It’s okay, Grey. Daddy’s here. I got you.”

  I carefully bounce him on my lap with the little strength I have left. He smiles for a moment before he sees the bandage on my shoulder and curiously points as his eyes widen and fill with fresh tears. I kiss his forehead, wanting to assure him that I’m not leaving him.

  “Daddy’s got a boo boo, Grey,” I weakly try to explain to him.

  He crawls across my lap until he’s face to face with my bandages. He then gives the bandage a quick kiss before looking up at me as if he was expecting some sort of change. He’s trying to kiss it to make it better, like I’ve done with him so many times before. Fuck, that thought makes me incredibly sappy. He always does the cutest shit, and even now, doped up on all my medications, I can still appreciate it.

  “Boo boo, Dada?” he asks, pointing toward my shoulder.

  Honestly, my shoulder’s so fucking numb, I forget I was fucking shot. It’s tender when I move it, but as long as I stay perfectly still and let the drugs do their job, I don’t feel any pain. However, Grey’s concern does make my heart feel a lot better, at least. It’s rotting in turmoil as my son’s doing his best to pull me out of it.

  “Thanks, buddy. Daddy feels a lot better,” I tell him with a weak, lethargic smile.

  “Boo boo, no! Dada!”

  I laugh at his babbling and instantly regret it as a sharp pain shoots up my side. Grey begins to cry as he watches my face morph into agony in response.

  “Want me to take him?” Ronnie softly asks, as she soothingly runs her fingers through my cropped hair.

  Her touch feels so fucking incredible. With her and Grey close I feel like I’m slowly coming down from my tormented high and drift back to where I was before I found out all of this life-altering shit. Slowly, I remember the man I had worked so hard to become in these past few months. The Trevor who was practically born again after his brother’s death.

  “I’ve got him, baby. I like holding him,” I say quietly as I allow Grey to make himself comfortable on my lap.

  “Oh, Trev… What happened? You went to your A.A. meeting and I never heard from you after that. Then, I got a call from the hospital and I—” She stops, covering her face with her hand.

  “I learned some things at A.A.… that I just couldn’t handle. I couldn’t think straight after I knew the truth.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asks as she removes her shaky hand from her mouth.

  “I was late and as I was walking into the room I heard Travis speaking at the meeting about my brother,” I quietly begin. She reaches out her hand and I take it, gripping it tightly as I recall that meeting. “He was telling everyone the story of what made him want to become sober.” She doesn’t comment and I wonder if she can feel where I’m going with this. “He got in an accident, Ronnie.” And that’s all I say. That’s all I have the strength to say.

  Ronnie’s unable to say anything because Nurse Debbie checks my vitals before leaving the room to give me time with my family. Once she’s gone my parents crowd around my hospital bed, their looks varying from sadness, to anger, and then pity. My father is rigid—his face is tight and calculating. I wonder what he knows that I don’t. I open my mouth to speak, but my father waves his hand dismissively, obviously not ready to talk, before taking a seat at my bedside. Mom gives me a watery smile before taking a seat on a stool next to him, placing her hand on his. I watch as my dad runs his hand roughly across his face. It’s something I always do whenever I’m nervous. He leans back in his chair and gives me an evaluating once-over before he sadly shakes his head and looks away.

  “Is Travis—” I stop because what I’m thinking is too terrible to say aloud. “Is he okay?” I manage.

  Agony washes over my dad’s face before anger takes over in its place and looks me dead in the eye. “He’s fine,” he says in a clipped tone. “Do you remember what happened, Trevor?”

  Where the fuck do I begin? How much does my dad already know? Do I tell him about all the horrible shit I heard tonight? Should I tell him that Travis confessed to everything before attempting to kill himself? I sit in silence, trying to read my dad’s face, hoping it will give me some indication as to what to do next. However, I have no such luck. His face is completely fucking blank. It’s as if he’s too afraid to show any emotion at the moment.

  “What do you know?” I finally ask.

  “I know he shot you,” he answers quietly as his eyes blaze with anger.

  “Is that it?” I press.

  My dad’s face twists in pain and his eyes fill with tears he desperately tries to reign in. Fuck, he knows! I wonder how he found out.

  “Where is he now?”

  “He’s in jail,” my dad spits out before taking a deep breath to gain control of himself. “He turned himself in when the cops arrived. Apparently, someone in the neighborhood called—thank, God. He screamed at them to help you before he begged to be locked up and they questioned him.”

  So, he’s not a fucking coward anymore. The nurse’s words come back to me. If I’d gotten here any later I could have very well been dead. With my shoulder shot and an artery severed, I could have bled out on Travis’s carpet if someone or something hadn’t intervened. Travis made sure I got the help I needed. Travis saved me as I tried desperately to save him. People died—people who really fucking mattered—but we still managed to overcome our demons and save each other. The darkness lurking inside of us wasn’t as all-consuming as I once thought. We had to face our demons together—walk through that darkness together until we came out on the other side as fucking different people.
Hand and hand, with blood, sweat, and tears, we faced the worst of ourselves and burned it down. In that terrifying moment as the light of this world began to fade away, I was reborn. So was Travis, apparently.

  When I thought all hope was lost, and the light began to turn to darkness... I saw Dean. I know it’s all a figment of my fucking imagination as the adrenaline was coursing through my body, but it was like he was standing right beside us. Watching me, always watching me. Looking out for me like he used to do when I was a kid. I could feel him there as if he really was just inches away from us. He gave me the same reassuring smile he used to give me all the time when I was growing up. I know it sounds fucking crazy. The rational part of my mind knows none of that shit is real. However, I can’t help but feel like it was. Maybe seeing his face is what kept me fighting until the paramedics arrived. Even now, I feel like Dean is with me. I hope this feeling lasts forever.

  “Do you know about Dean and Cat?” I ask my dad, who’s growing increasingly more defeated at my side.

  My heart goes out to him as I watch his face crumble. He’s spent the night in the hospital waiting for his only living son to get out of emergency surgery. On top of that he found out the details of his other son’s death. That’s a lot to take in on the same night. As I rock Grey slowly in my arms, I watch my dad’s demeanor grow progressively worse as he leans against my mom’s shoulder.

  “This is the same hospital Dean died in,” he tells me with a shaky voice. His hand is trembling in front of his mouth as if he were trying to compose himself. “We were waiting for you to get out of surgery for such a long time that I thought you were lost, too. It took you hours to wake-up. I’ve never been so afraid in my life.”

  Mom wraps her arms around his shoulders and presses her cheek against his head, which is now bowed down so I can’t get a clear look at his face.

  “Dad, I didn’t mean to put you through all of this again,” I say, having a hard time watching him—the man who’s always been such a strong role model for me—breakdown in front of me. “I wasn’t thinking about anything. I got this horrible feeling and I just knew I had to see Travis,” I rasp out, my voice still hoarse from the tube that was shoved down my throat during surgery. “I thought he was going to skip town or something, and I couldn’t allow him to run away. When I got there, he had a gun lying on his lap and had this horrible blank look on his face. Dad, I had to stop him. I wasn’t there to save my brother”—I stop speaking for a moment to suppress a cry— “I wasn’t there to save Dean, so I had to be there to save Travis. I had to do anything in my power to keep him alive. I had to at least fucking try. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he passed away, too.”