Page 129 of Point of No Return

I’ve always hated hospitals. These halls have seen far more death than they’ve ever seen of life. And it smells like it. The smell of bleach and chlorine fill every hallway. The last time I was here, my wife was here to bear it with me… Whether I realized I wanted her to be or not.

But now, I’m alone.

The stiff back of the seat has been digging into my ass for hours now, and I long to be back at home in my own bed instead of sitting in a hospital day-in and day-out. But I’ve talked myself out of going home each night in favor of falling asleep in the waiting room. No matter how many times Crew calls to tell me he’ll watch over things, I refuse to go home.

I lift my head off my fist when I hear the faint sound of the hospital intercom. It’s enough to jolt me back to reality, and I crane my neck to the side, stretching as I stand. The halls are quiet at this hour but the cafeteria should be opening soon. Then the hall will be full of people visiting their loved ones.

Aleks’ room is at the end of the hallway in a private corridor- one I have to enter a code just to get into. As soon as I key through the door, I know something’s different. Just inside, his hospital bed is empty, sheets strewn everywhere. Flowers are limp at the bedside table.

My heart stalls as I come to a stop, and I hardly have a moment to gather myself before I hear his laugh just down the hall. I jog to the sound, stopping outside the only other room. My heart finally kicks into gear again.

“Can I tell you something seriously now?” her voice is all smile, and just the sweet sound of it keeps me from barging into the room and interrupting.

Aleks chuckles, and from here, his wheelchair blocks the view of the hospital bed. Only the steady beep of the monitor beside the bed interrupts the silence now.

“I didn’t know you could be serious.”

She sighs, her voice soft. “Aleks… I don’t think…” I can hear her swallow. “I don’t think I ever told you how much I care about you.” Something in my chest tightens at the words. “I never got to tell you how sorry I am for what I did. And I’m so… I’m so sorry-”

“Stop,” Aleks says. “Just stop, Charlotte.”

He wheels closer, and the angle reveals my wife sitting up, face bruised, arms and waist tethered with bandages. A lone tear streams down her face, and though I ache to step inside, I force myself to hover back.

“I left without ever telling you…” she starts again. “You and your brother… You’re the closest thing to a family I’ve ever had, and I- and I threw it away.”

“Please stop talking.” Aleks reaches across the hospital bed, taking her hand and squeezing it as he shakes his head. It’s the most he can do with the wheelchair getting in the way. “You know something…I knewyou loved me from the start.”

She chokes on a laugh as she glances down at his leg. Either side of his knee is held straight with metal pins and a brace, and her brows crease as she smiles at him.

“You’re such an asshole, but you’re right…”

He laughs again, looking at her carefully. “Finally got you to admit it.”

Her eyes must catch on me in the corner because they both look over at me, and I step fully into the room, my eyes locked on her.

“You’re awake.”

“You look like shit,” Aleks laughs, and I’m tired enough that I nearly flip him the finger.

“What are you even doing out of bed?”

“Doc gave me permission this morning,” he grins, reaching down and spinning his chair around by the wheel.

It’s a miracle he’ll be able to walk on his left leg at all. The bullet lodged itself just above his knee, and he was bedridden for two weeks after the surgery. Charlotte smiles but her eyes lock on me, and I’m unable to look away.

“Why don’t you go get the doctor and tell them she’s awake?” I say.

He smirks. He squeezes my arm as he rolls past. I wait until he’s down the hall before walking toward her. She tries to sit up but winces tiredly, sinking back into the pillows as I stop just an arm’s length away.

Her eyes search my face. “Hi.”

I can’t help my small smile. “Hey, Charlie.”

Her laugh is a quiet huff, and another tear leaks down her face, but I catch it with my thumb as I lift her eyes to mine.

“You’re hurt,” she whispers, and I know she’s referring to the bruises on my face.

That and the cut on my brow- the ugly result of the fight. Another scar and story to tell. Compared to the damage she’s taken, it’s nothing.

---