Page 43 of Fighting Shadows

I love that even after all this time, he still does it with me; it’s just our thing.

“Sounds tough,” Aidan mutters.

“It is,” Brenn replies, “but she’s strong.”

I don’t know how long I sit here, trapped in my memories of Charlie and Jane, but when I finally come out of the horror show that is on my mind, I’m greeted with eight sets of eyes, all staring right at me.

“Um, hi?”

“Are you back with us, Babygirl?” Tobias gazes into my eyes, his chocolate brown eyes bearing into mine, checking for any signs that I’m still not fully here. It’s only then that I realize how tired he looks, his eyes red-rimmed and strained.

“Yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing for something I’m assuming you can’t control?” Aidan grumbles, his tattooed arms crossing over his broad chest as he glares at me disapprovingly.

“Hey! Don’t speak to her like that,” Dominic barks.

“Well, am I wrong? Do you apologize when you do something you can’t control?”

“I do, but that’s normally because I kill someone that I wasn’t allowed to.”

“We’re gonna be great friends,” Aidan declares, a manic smile on his face that matches the same one Dominic is flashing him.

“Your brother is my new bestie, so you have no choice.”

“Do I get a choice in this?” Noah grumbles, slumping in the shitty plastic seat.

“No.”

“Nah.”

“You are all ridiculous,” Atlas laughs. His hand hasn’t moved from my calf, and his thumb is still massaging soothing circles into my skin.

“When do I get to go home?” I ask, wanting out of here already.

I’ve spent enough time in hospitals that I’m over it; I want to go home to my bed. Well, not my bed; Zander’s now, I guess.

“As soon as the doctors say you can,” Zander levels me with his no-nonsense tone, “You will need to rest more. They told us the sepsis will make you tired for a few months, so naps—lots of them.”

“Anything else?” I grumble.

“You might have some memory issues, as is apparent from your forgetting the last two weeks,” Noah says.

“Which is probably for the best,” I mutter.

“What do you mean?” Noah asks.

“I-” I start to reply but visibly flinch at the idea of what I want to say.

Of course, my sweet boy understands me more than I could ever hope for. His eyes are sympathetic as he smiles at me sadly.

“She means if she could remember that she would want to die, that the scalpel that’s sitting in the packaging in the drawer bythe door would be a temptation too strong to resist to help her break free from her memories,” Tobias takes a shaky breath, “It means we would have lost her for good.”

“Jesus,” Noah mutters, “I knew you had a past with it, but I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“How could you?” I smile sadly at him, “All of our conversations were one-sided.”

“Touche.”

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