Page 94 of Say You're Mine

Sonya, abandoning her artistic efforts, pulls me into a vanilla-and-turpentine scented hug. "How're you holding up, Cici?" she murmurs, scanning my face.

I shrug, the casual motion belying the effort it takes not to splinter apart. "As well as can be expected, considering. June, he - God, Sonya, those sick fucks, the things they did -"

She squeezes tighter, the pressure of her body communicating everything language can't encompass. "June's a goddamn warrior," she soothes. "Strongest motherfucker I know. You two will power through this, come out swinging on the other side."

I melt into her solidness, into the consoling familiarity of her unique essence. "From your lips to God's ears," I whisper, my words quavering.

As I really take it all in, the breath leaves my lungs in a rush.

It's perfect. A riot of color and whimsy, every brushstroke infused with love. Song and Louis stand back, twin expressions of anxious anticipation on their faces.

"Well?" Song demands, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What do you think, sis?"

I take it in - the rolling green hills, the grinning zoo animals, the fluffy white clouds drifting across a periwinkle sky. It's every dream June and I ever whispered into the darkness, brought to vibrant, dizzying life.

"It's..." I swallow hard, scrubbing at the tears that slip down my cheeks. "God, you guys. It's absolutely perfect."

Louis's face splits in a relieved grin as he reaches out to pull me into a hug. "Good, because we poured our blood, sweat, and tears into this masterpiece. Mostly Song's tears, but still."

"Hey!" Song protests, launching a stuffed giraffe at his boyfriend's head. "I'll have you know those were very manly tears of creative frustration."

Their familiar back-and-forth washes over me, loosening the knot in my chest by a fraction. For a tiny, shining moment, it almost feels normal. Like the world hasn't spun off its axis, like my heart hasn't been cleaved in two.

But then Sonya's phone rings, the cheerful chirp an obscene intrusion into the fragile peace we've carved out. Her face pales as she answers, her gaze darting to mine in silent warning before handing it to me.

No. No no no, not again, please god not again-

"Cara." It's Judith, and there's something in her voice that has my blood turning to ice in my veins.

"What is it?" I demand, my hand clenching white-knuckled around the phone. "What's happened?"

She draws in a shuddering breath, and I can picture her expression. That porcelain mask she wears when she's trying to be strong. "It's June. He's been hurt. Stabbed. They're taking him to Bethesda General now."

The world tilts, goes gray at the edges. This can't be happening. It can't. He was safe. He was supposed to be safe in custody.

No. No, this can't be happening. It's a mistake, a misunderstanding. June is fine, he has to be fine. We've come too far, fought too hard for it to end like this.

But even as the desperate denials whirl through my mind, I'm moving. Running, stumbling, I have to get to him. I have to see for myself.

"I'm on my way," I hear myself say, the words distant and tinny. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

The trip to the hospital is a smear of color and light, Sonya's knuckles white on the steering wheel, Louis a grim-faced statue in the back seat. Everything feels surreal, like I'm walking through someone else's nightmare.

They won't let me see him at first. I pace the waiting room like a caged animal, my muscles vibrating with the need to do something. To fight, to scream, to tear the world apart with my bare hands.

The next hours pass in a sickening blur. The stark white walls of the hospital. The cloying scent of antiseptic. The steady, merciless beep of machines counting down the seconds of my husband's life.

Sonya is a pillar at my side, her arm around my shoulders as we keep our grim vigil. Song paces like a caged animal, wearing grooves in the waiting room tile, while Louis slumps bonelessly in a plastic chair, his head in his hands.

Natalie arrives in a whirlwind of designer silk and barely leashed panic, little Legacy clinging wide-eyed to her hand. She takes one look at my ravaged face and pulls me into a fierce, desperate hug.

"I came as soon as I heard," she murmurs into my hair, her arms like steel bands around me. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry. What can I do?"

A jagged sob claws up my throat, tearing through my chest like barbed wire. "I need to see him, Nat. I need to tell him to hold on, to come back to us. I can't-" I choke on the words, on the unfathomable loss yawning ahead. "I can't do this without him."

Legacy toddles over, his sweet face creased with confusion and worry. "Aunt Ci sad?" he chirps, patting my belly with a clumsy, chubby hand. "It's okay. Don't cry, Uncle June my superhero. "

A moan rises in my throat, my knees threatening to buckle under the weight of each word.

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