Page 81 of Shattered Hate

“Hey, Dax,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I’m here. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner.”

Tears blur my vision as I gently squeeze his hand. There’s no response, no twitch of his fingers or flutter of his eyelids. Just the steady, artificial rise and fall of his chest and the rhythmic beeping of the machines.

“The doctors say you need to wake up,” I continue. “So you have to fight, okay? You have to come back to me.”

I lean in closer, ignoring the pain that shoots through my body at the movement. “I never got to tell you,” I murmur. “But I love you too, Dax. I love you so much that it scares me sometimes. So please, please wake up. I need you.”

The silence that follows is deafening. I hold my breath, desperately hoping for some sign that he heard me, that he’s fighting his way back. But there’s nothing—just the steady beep of the heart monitor and the whoosh of the ventilator.

“Talk to him more,” Kal encourages softly from behind me. “They say coma patients can sometimes hear…”

I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “Remember when we first met?” I begin, my voice wavering. “You were so quiet, so closed off. But I saw something in you, even then. A light that you tried to hide.”

My thumb traces gentle circles on the back of Daxton’s hand as I speak. “I remember how your eyes would light up when you were tattooing me.” I’m thick with emotion. “How you’d get lostin patterns, this little crease forming between your eyebrows as you concentrated.” I pause, taking a shaky breath. “I never told you, but I used to watch you sometimes when you were drawing. The way your hands moved across the paper, bringing beauty to life… it was like magic, Dax. You’re magic. I fell in love with the way you saw the world.” Tears start to fall, and I don’t bother wiping them away. “I need you to wake up, okay? I need to see those eyes again, to hear your voice. There’s so much I want to tell you, so much we haven’t done yet.”

I lean closer, my lips near his ear. “I love you, Daxton. Please come back to me.”

The steady beep of the heart monitor fills the silence that follows. I hold my breath, desperately searching for any sign of response—a squeeze of his palm, a flutter of his lashes. But there’s nothing. Exhaustion and pain wash over me in waves. I slump forward, resting my forehead against the edge of Daxton’s bed. Tears fall freely now, soaking into the crisp white hospital sheets.

“I can’t lose you. Not when I’ve just found you again.” I’m broken.

A gentle hand on my shoulder startles me. I look up to see a nurse standing there, sympathy etched on her face.

“I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over,” she says softly.

I look up at the nurse, desperation clawing at my throat. “Please, just a few more minutes.” Her eyes soften with compassion.

“All right,” she concedes gently. “Five more minutes.”

As she leaves, I turn back to Daxton, clinging to his hand like a lifeline. “Did you hear that, Dax? We don’t have much time. You need to wake up now, okay?” My voice cracks. “Please, just open your eyes.”

“You should get some rest,” Kal says. He looks so helpless. I reluctantly nod and give up my place beside Daxton’s bed.

“I’ll watch over him, Tray.”

“Do you promise, Kal?”

“I promise you.”

“Thank you.” I know he can’t be here out of visiting hours, but something tells me Kal will make sure he can be here at all hours. Nothing is ever too much when it comes to me and Bray. Kal will crawl each inch of this earth to make sure we’re both okay. That’s just what kind of person he is. He would do just about anything for the people he loves.

“I love you, brother,” he says, closing his eyes and gently kissing my forehead.

Bray wheels me back to my room, the burden of uncertainty feeling as heavy as a lead blanket. As I settle against the pillows, I can’t shake the dark thoughts that invade my mind. What if he doesn’t wake up? What if he does and he’s not the same? The guilt threatens to overwhelm me. If only I’d gotten there sooner…

The days merge into a blur of pain medication and restless sleep. Bray and Kal take turns staying by my side and Daxton’s, keeping me company during visiting hours and filling in the gaps when I’m asleep. Cope sometimes sits with me but spends more time with Daxton, which I prefer. I don’t want him to be alone.

They needed to examine my arm, so they removed the bandages. The pain was excruciating, and when I looked at my scarred skin, I felt nauseous. But I keep reminding myself that it could be worse.

On the fifth day, I’m finally allowed to move around on my own, though the pain in my arm and back still throbs with each movement. I spend every moment I can by Daxton’s side, talking to him, reading to him, pleading with him to wake up. The doctors’ updates are a mix of cautious optimism and guarded concern. His vitals are stable, but there’s still no sign of him regaining consciousness.

I insist on visiting Daxton every day, even when the doctors advise against it. I can’t bear the thought of him waking up alone, confused, and scared. So I sit by his bedside, talking to him, reading to him, playing his favorite music. Anything to let him know I’m here, waiting for him to come back to me.

On the fifth day, as I’m holding his hand and describing a tattoo design I think he’d like, I feel a slight twitch against my palm. My breath catches in my throat as I stare intently at Daxton’s hand, hardly daring to believe it.

“Dax?” I whisper, my voice trembling with hope. “Can you hear me?”

For a long moment, there’s nothing. Then, so faint I almost miss it, his fingers curl weakly around mine.

---