Page 13 of Healed Hearts

I stand up, cleaning up my supplies, and grab the vial of blood I collected. I’ll go ahead and run this to the lab myself. It will give me time to get my head on straight, and it’ll give Julian and Wren a few more minutes to calm down.

I focus on taking deep breaths as I walk slowly toward the lab. I have no idea why this is having such an effect on me. Is it because the idea of Julian cheating shattered the image I had of him? Is it because the kindness and respect he showed me doesn’t much matter if it’s kindness and respect he should have been showing someone else?

I swallow hard as I round the corner to the lab. I feel like running. Like if I just move fast enough, I’ll be able to outrun the way my thoughts are pressing down on me. Instead, I take my time, dropping off her sample and heading back to the pediatric unit.

I pick up the box of stickers, and get her discharge papers together. By the time I walk in, Wren is watching YouTube on the phone again and Julian is staring off into space. He doesn’t even acknowledge me when I walk in, but Wren gives me a smile, her face lighting up with excitement when she sees the stickers in my hand.

I set the discharge papers down and kneel in front of Wren, holding the box of stickers out to her. She leans forward andpeers into the container. “Daddy, look,” she says. I feel more than see Julian come back to awareness.

He lets out a rusty laugh that feels forced as hell and leans over. “Wow. Those are so cool. Which one do you want to pick?”

“She can pick as many as she wants,” I say, a smile forcing its way to my face. “She was a very brave girl.”

I lift my eyes to him, and he’s staring at me in that same intense way he was last weekend. It makes me feel funny inside, and I drag my eyes away again to look at Wren. Because nope, can’t look at him like that. “Did you hear that, baby girl?” he asks.

“Yes,” she giggles.

In the end, she chooses only three stickers, but I honestly would have sent the entire box home with her. After all the shit she went through, with what should have been a routine blood draw, she deserves it.

I stand, grabbing the paperwork off the sink, and wordlessly hold them out in front of me. Our eyes meet again as he stands up and takes the papers from me. It’s challenging to keep my expression neutral, but I think I’m doing a pretty good job of it.

He clears his throat, and I lowkey want to beg him to leave so I can get my shit together. The walls are cracking around my psyche, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep up the facade. Fuck, I’m so disappointed. In him, sure. But mostly in myself. I didn’t even think to ask if he was seeing anyone. All these rules and regulations I have about myself and my body, and I didn’t even think to check on that.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Here it comes. Surely he’s not going to confess his transgressions in front of his daughter? Who would do that? “I promise I’m not usually this much of a mess. I… hospitals are hard for me.”

I want to crack the joke that I could tell, if for no other reason than to get my equilibrium back, but there’s something in hisvoice and his posture that has me keeping that to myself. I nod at him slowly, not sure what else to do with that information, but not wanting to joke at his expense. Ro’s right. He always tells me normal people don’t get it when you laugh at trauma.

“Wren’s mom,” he starts, but his words cut off abruptly. There’s no way he’s going to do this right now. I open my mouth to tell him he does not need to apologize to me for what he did. That he needs to get out of here and apologize to Wren’s mother when he says, “There were a lot of needles before she died, and um, the gloves, for some reason… the, um, the gloves.”

A strange combination of soul-crushing relief and fucking agony rips through my body. He didn’t cheat on his wife. She’s dead. Oh my God, I’m the worst fucking person. I sway on my feet, thankful that the sink is directly behind me. I sag against it, hoping that I can keep myself upright. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” I force myself to say.

He’s taking deep breaths, like he’s trying to stave off a panic attack. “No, it’s… well, it’s not okay. But it mostly is. It was the gloves for some reason.” His breathing gets harsh again, and with it, you can physically see Wren’s panic rising.

“It’s okay,” I get out. “You’re alright. You don’t have to apologize.” Fuck, I’m such an asshole.

Wren lets out a little whimper and Julian jerks his attention to her, but he can’t seem to calm down. It breaks my heart. He’s all alone, and they’re clearly both freaking out. I place my hand on his arm—the one he has wrapped around Wren. “Julian, breathe for me again.”

Panicked deep brown eyes find mine as his entire body shudders. “It’s alright. Just breathe.”

He gives me a jerky nod, and I watch as he drags deep breaths in through his nose. “Good. That’s good,” I say softly when his breathing starts to regulate, when the panic starts to clear from his eyes.

He pulls away from me quickly and turns, clearly in a hurry to get the fuck out of here. “Someone will call you with the results,” I say right as he clears the door, moving so fast that I’m not even sure he heard me.

“Hold?” Beck says as we drive toward the house after work.

“Yeah?” I ask, turning my attention to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I mumble.

“Roman and I are worried about you.” I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. I don’t need them to be worried about me. I’m fine. He ignores my silence and pushes on. “You’ve been off since last weekend. Are you sure everything was okay? I’m only going to say this once, and then if you tell me you’re fine, I promise I’ll drop it, okay? And I want you to keep in mind, this is not me treating you like a child. This is me caring about you because you’re my family.”

“Alright,” I respond, my stomach dropping a bit thinking about what he might say.

“When you first got home, I wasn’t too stressed. But now you’re acting strange, and I’m getting more worried by the day. I know Roman is too. But he didn’t see you the other night like I did. You came home half covered in dried cum, looking like an assault victim. I believed you when you said he was nice to you, Hold. But that, combined with your out of character behavior, is worrying me. Are you sure nothing happened you didn’t want?”

With each word he speaks, my stomach twists more and more. I don’t want them to be worried about me. I’ve been an assault victim many times, but last weekend was not one of them. The way Julian checked in with me over and over flashes through mymind, and warmth settles in my lower stomach. I press a hand to it. Fuck, I really hope I’m not getting sick. I’ve been feeling weird like this off and on all week. I clear my throat, trying to get my stomach to chill out. “I promise he didn’t do anything I didn’t want. He, um, he actually did the opposite. He checked in with me at every point and kept asking if what he was doing was okay.” Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “That’s strange, though, right? Who does that?”

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