Page 36 of The Darkest Knight

He just nods and disappears like a ghost.

Thank fuck.

His face is the last one I want to see right now.

Dex and Zach want to celebrate, and I might be ready for that in a few days’ time. I exhale, long and slow, but there’s no relief. Because even as I sit here, drowning in the aftermath of a victory I should be celebrating, all I can think about is Cari.

Her mother. That sterile hospital room. Cari crumbling, sobbing, looking so small and broken in a way I’ve never seen before.

I close my eyes and scrub a hand down my face.

I hate myself. That day she walked in, wearing the same wrinkled clothes as the day before and carrying those damn flowers like she could hold her world together through sheer will alone, I snapped at her. She was at the hospital all night, sitting by her mother’s bedside, and I treated her like garbage.

I was a complete bastard to her.

And yet, after everything I said, she still saved the deal. In record time. She still held my world together while hers fell apart.

I texted her earlier:

You did an incredible job. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Her reply was fast:

You’ll need to get used to it.

Those words hit like a sucker punch to my gut. She’s broken, her grief is raw, and is lashing out because she has every right to. I deserve her anger. I deserve worse.

The guilt sits like lead in my chest.

She holds everything together—me, this company—under the most impossible pressure. And I know so little about her. I rely on her too much, care too much, and it’s dangerous.

I pull up my calendar and stare at the entry for dinner tonight—Vanhelm’s CEO, the big celebration at some exclusive Manhattan restaurant where reservations are impossible to get unless your name comes with a nine-figure net worth. A placewhere the steaks are flown in from Japan and the wine list could fund a small company.

I can’t go.

Not tonight. Cari is on my mind, and it’s not about that stupid dirty dream I had about her. It’s not even about her pulling out all the stops to save the deal.

It’s abouther.

Her strength. Her loyalty. The quiet way she breaks apart and still pieces herself back together.

She’s broken, and I'm not in the mood for a celebration. Her grief lingers with me, clinging to my mind like a shadow I can’t shake. I can still see her there sitting alone in that cold, sterile hospital room, holding her mother’s hand as if she could tether her to the earth.

Watching Cari deal with this leaves me feeling helpless and more adrift than ever. I have an overwhelming urge to be with Brooke. I just want to go home and hold my little girl. I need to be close to her, and work harder at cherishing my time with her because nothing is guaranteed. I already knew that, but seeing Cari's world fall apart like mine once did cements it further.

Her grief feels like mine. And yet I can’t do anything about it. I can’t hold her or comfort her. I can’t sit by her side and pull her back from the brink, no matter how much I want to. I have to watch from a distance.

CARI

I’m numb.

It’s like the world’s been stripped of color.

I’m sitting on my mom’s bed at home. I’ve spent every minute here since the day we lost her. Her sheets still smell faintly like her lavender soap.

I emailed Jett to say I needed time off. He responded almost immediately, telling me to take as long as I needed. He also texted earlier today to say the Vanhelm deal was complete.

I exhale a small sigh of relief, and mentally close that chapter. At least something good came out of the chaos.

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