Page 39 of Defending What is Mine

Chapter Nineteen

Jack:Present—Late January

“Knock, knock.” Mom enthusiastically pushes through the door. “Oh, Jacques! You can’t begin to imagine how relieved I am to see you awake. I’ve prayed every night for you to come back to us,” she proclaims as she rushes to my bedside. “Every day, too.”

“Morning, Mom. It’s good to see you, too,” I say flatly, my focus out the window. The words are born of my love for her, because it’s the right thing to say. The truth is, I’d rather she wasn’t here. “But you shouldn’t have come. I don’t want to be seen like this. By anyone.”

Careful of my bandages, she slips her hand over mine. “There, there,” she says as she rubs my arm. “What do you mean, like this? You’re a hero.” When I don’t respond, she continues, unabated. “Everyone around here talks about it. Each time a new nurse or doctor came in to check on you, they always stopped to tell me your story. Always.” Mom grins a little. “Or, their version of it anyway.”

I turn my head to look at her. She looks tired and worn, each of the eight days I spent in a coma showing as a new line on her face, but when my gaze meets hers, her eyes are bright with happiness. “How did you even get here?” I ask, unable to conjure up the smile I know she wants.

“Honestly, I don’t know myself.” She chuckles. “Some very nice men from the Army arranged pretty much everything. I don’t know if that’s something they do for everyone, but...” Emotion tightens her features and she clears her throat. “Well, given your injuries, and then the coma, they were very diligent about making things as simple for me as possible. Considering.”

“I’m sorry. Sorry for everything that happened. Sorry for you being dragged away from home.” I groan as I adjust myself in the bed, then return my attention to the window. It’s easier to look at the sky then at the hope on my mother’s face. She must be fooling herself, so grateful to hear that her son is alive that she missed the fact that he has no life to return to. “You should go back now,” I murmur. “There’s nothing you can do at this point. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

Mom sighs heavily. “Son. Don’t do that. Don’t let yourself fall down that dark hole. You’re young. This isn’t the end. At most, it’s simply the beginning of your next chapter. Your entire life lies ahead of you.”

“What life?”

She half-sits, half-falls back into the chair by the bed. “Whatever do you mean? Your life. Everything you’ve worked so hard to create for yourself. You haven’t made it this far because of your father, or your brothers, or me. You made it happen, son. You.”

I laugh bitterly. “Yeah? I made it happen. I did this to myself. Go me!”

“What? No. You can’t look at it like that.” Mom scoffs, her eyes widening in disbelief. It’s clear she doesn’t know what to do with this version of me, but the sooner she gets acquainted with the man I’ve become, the better.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. There’s no future for me in the Army. I can’t go back to a combat role. Not after this.” I gesture at my leg. “So what? Spend the next fifteen years riding a desk? No, thank you. That’s not the life I worked so hard for.”

Mom bobs her head along as she digests my words. Finally, she stands, looks me in the eye, and firmly asks, “How can you know what lies ahead until you’ve gotten out of this bed”—she motions around the room with her arms—“out of this hospital, and seen for yourself? The only thing you should know right now—and you should know it with absolute certainty—is that you have people. Your brothers. Me. A wonderful young woman and her beautiful little girl. We’re all here. We will be here. Here to help—however you need—while you heal and find out for yourself what the future has in store.”

I fight back an onslaught of emotion at the mere mention of Sam. “Don’t. Please don’t say her name. That’s over now, too. She didn’t sign up to spend her life supporting a washed-out cripple. She and Vanessa deserve better than that. And I’m not about to hold her back just so she can prop me up.” I didn’t think I could hurt any more than I already do, but thinking of Sam having to deal with the remnants of my life is a lance through my heart.

I stare at the ceiling, fully aware that she is better off without me.

Fully aware that I will miss her to the end of my days.

Fully aware that I will not inflict myself on her ever again.

From the corner of my eye, I see Mom furiously shaking her head. “I’m sure this is normal. You’ve been through so much, and haven’t given yourself any time to process it. But son, you can’t mean what you’re saying.” She sighs. “Please don’t go making decisions now you can’t take back later.”

I didn’t make this decision. It was made for me. And there’s no going back.

“Does she know?” I ask, unable to speak her name. “I assume she must have heard by now.”

“I haven’t spoken to her. But I’m sure word has gotten around back home.”

“Then could you do me a favor?”

Mom’s eyes light up, ever ready to help those she loves. “Sure, son. Just tell me what you need.”

“Let her know I see this for what it is, and I know it’s over. There’s nothing else to be said about it.” That’s a lie. There’s so much more I want to say.

I want Sam to know I love her. That she is the brightest point in my life. That my heart will forever live outside my body, carried in her soul. Missing her is a weight on my chest and I will never take a full breath again. But those are selfish words. Words that worry about my needs, not hers. It’s because I truly love her that I have to set her free.

“Oh, son,” Mom cries, lips parted, eyes wide. “Don’t say goodbye to that woman. Don’t do this. I beg you.”

I stare at the ceiling, willing my heart to harden. “Tell her I don’t want to see her again. Tell her we’re over. I couldn’t live with myself knowing she stayed out of guilt. And I don’t want her putting her future on hold, or waiting around wondering if life will ever get back to where it was. Before.” My voice cracks. “Sam will stick around because she thinks it’s the right thing, so I’ll be the bad guy and save her from me. She needs to forget I ever existed. It’ll be better for both of us…in the long run.”

“I won’t.” Mom drops her gaze, sadness dripping from her posture. “I can’t. I can’t hurt her like that. Not when I know you don’t mean it.”

I slam my hand against the bed rail, pulling out my IV in the process. “Damnit. How do you know what I mean? Do you want to help me, or not?”

Still sitting in the chair by my bed, Mom whispers a quiet prayer as she begins to sob. “Why? Why God? Why did this happen? Please. Please bring us through this.”

I sigh in frustration. Mostly with myself. “I’m sorry, Mom. Really. I don’t mean to upset you. I think I just need some time. You know? Alone.”

She nods as she pulls a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and wipes her nose. “Alright, Jacques. I understand,” she says as she gathers her things and stands to leave, though I really don’t think she does. When she reaches the door, she stops but doesn’t turn back. Instead choosing to linger in the room for a moment while she pulls herself together. Then, as she opens the door she looks back over her shoulder. “Just remember what your father used to say. We don’t always have a say in what happens to us. But we do have a say in how we handle it.” She nods in silent agreement with the statement as she closes the door behind her.

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