Page 113 of Unbreakable
She nodded again. “I’m sorry I can’t stop being mad at you. I don’t want to be. I’m tired of fighting.”
“No, you’re right to be mad. I’m mad at me too.”
She coughed a sad little laugh. “But are you mad enough at yourself if I’m not mad at you?”
I had to laugh at that. “No. I need you to also guilt me to keep me in line.”
“Good. I will.”
“It’s something else for you to do,” I shrugged.
“I need something,” she chuckled.
I ran my thumb across her cheek. “One thing at a time, baby. You and me.”
“You and me, against this infection,” she said with one side of her mouth curling upward.
FORTY-TWO
JEANINE
NOW | DECEMBER
We’re home now
RACHEL
Give Grey a big hug for me
I returned upstairsafter doing the minor cleanup needed to get ready for the next day. The Rusties wives sent over enough food to get us through Christmas while Grey was in the hospital, both restaurant stuff and meals they made. The gesture made my stomach twist because it wasn’t just the girls who went to the spa. Even Dylan’s team nemesis, Dotsenko, had his wife send something for us. I don’t know if it was a matter of guilt or Dylan getting along better with his teammates, but we had much bigger concerns for me to waste time questioning it.
Dylan stood in Greyson’s doorway, staring into the darkened room. His fingers gripped the doorframe so hard his nails went white. His head dropped forward and his other hand came up to his face. A loud sniff and a shudder sounded.
We’d just gotten home from the hospital that evening. The Rusties were out of town, but Dyl had stayed back to be withGrey. No one wants to play the week of Christmas, and especially if your son is in the hospital.
Grey’s white blood cell counts were a little elevated, so they opted for a course of IV antibiotics to be on the safe side. By the time they sent him home, they were confident everything was healing properly.
So in theory, all was settled. Grey was finally home, and we didn’t have to see a doctor again until the following week.
I’d just gotten out of the shower, having not had one since before the accident Sunday. The emotions of it had hit me at various times over the prior two days, and Dyl was struggling too.
I couldn’t just stand by and watch the man I loved fall apart without feeling anything. I approached him and put my hand on his shoulder, which made him cry harder. He gripped my hand and I rose on my toes to kiss his fingers. Dylan whimpered and I pulled him away from Grey’s doorway.
“You’ll wake him,” I whispered. I ushered him into our room, shutting the door behind us. Then I fell into my husband’s arms and we squeezed each other so damn tight we could pop a lung.
“I love him so much,” he cried. “Everything’s my fault.”
“He’s okay now,” I said, loosely clawing over his ribs.
“I know, but,” Dylan gasped, “I hurt my son. He was in so much pain.”
“Accidents happen, baby.” I couldn’t believe I was saying it after all the hostility I’d harbored for him.
“I never want to hurt him,” he said. “I never want to hurt the girls. I never want to hurt you, Jeannie.”
I pressed my lips into the divot of his collarbone. “We hurt the ones we love the most.”
He chuckled. “I guess that’s it.”
