Page 96 of Cross My Heart

“He is,” she reiterates. “Once he’s done with surgery he will be moved upstairs to the ICU. Only one family member can come in. Who are you to him?”

“I’m—”

“His husband,” Mom says for me, and my breath stalls in my lungs at the lie. “Ty, we can come back tomorrow when he’s more stable.”

I nod. “Stay with me until he’s done, please.”

“We will.”

“Do y’all need anything right now?” the nurse asks. “Water, snacks?”

“I’m good,” I tell her, looking down at my hands.

“Do you maybe have some wipes?” Mom asks, and the nurse takes one look at me and nods, sympathy in her eyes. “I’d really appreciate some.”

The nurse comes back with the wipes, and my mom makes quick work of cleaning me up as I sit there, tears streaming down my face without my permission. She’s being gentle, and I appreciate the gesture. I don’t think I could do it for myself right now. I frankly don’t care about how I look at the moment.

After she finishes cleaning me up, we wait in silence. It’s a long time before a nurse comes to get me, several hours I’d say. I haven’t really looked at my phone or the time. I’ll make phone calls tomorrow.

Saying goodbye to my parents, they give me one last hug. “Call me if anything happens,” Mom murmurs.

“Nothing else is going to,” I tell her, then follow after the nurse.

We walk through bright hallways, the walls white, the tiles whiter. It’s making my eyes hurt, and all I want to do is be with Noah and get some sleep. But I know I won’t be sleeping a goddamned wink any time soon. The nurse presses the button to open the elevator doors, and we step into it in deafening silence. She hits the number to the seventh floor, looking forward the entire time. I get it, she doesn’t want to make conversation, but I want answers.

“How is he?” I ask her, fidgeting with my now clean fingers.

“He’s still in critical condition,” she replies, the elevator stopping on the correct floor. “He’s getting a blood infusion as we speak.”

Stepping out of the elevator, I nod and follow after her.

“He’s going to look really bad off—I just want to warn you.” She stops and looks at me. “Be prepared to see him at his worst. He has a tube down his throat, and he’s pale.”

I nod again. “I understand.”

But the truth is, I don’t understand. At all. Not until she opens the glass door, moving the curtain aside. I gasp when I see him, and my eyes momentarily close. I blink repeatedly at the sight because surely my eyes are failing me right now.

Noah is lying in bed at an angle, a tube down his throat. His face is white as a sheet, and his arms are covered in bandages that are already soaked with blood. There’s a red bag of blood infusing into an IV in his neck, because clearly his arms are closed for business, and my legs almost give out on me at the sight. There’s no part of him that looks alive right now, and I’m terrified as I close the distance between us and pull the chair to his side. Resting my head on his legs, I sob loudly, hearing the nurse’s retreating footsteps. But I don’t look up. I just close my eyes and wish it was me in this hospital bed.NotNoah.

Never Noah.

Chapter 48

NOAH

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I frown, my head hurting from the sound. It’s pounding, but thankfully it’s silent otherwise. My arms hurt something fierce, and tears spring to my eyes from the pain. This can only mean one thing—I’m alive. But I don’t dare move. I don’t hear him, but I know he’s here. I can smell the woodsy scent of his body wash. There’s also the faintest scent of blood. I can’t believe I failed.

I’m a fucking failure.

I can’t even succeed at killing myself.

Opening my eyes, they sting. The room is dark, but they feel as dry as sandpaper. Tyler is sitting on a chair by my bedside, his head on my lap, soft snores coming from him. I stare at him for what feels like forever, but it is surely a couple of minutes. There are purple bags under his eyes, his curly hair is a mess, and his lips are turned down into a frown. I hate seeing him like this, especially knowing I’m the one who did this to him.

Guilt is simmering right under the disappointment of not being dead, and I can’t help but wish I had succeeded. Because then I wouldn’t have to face Tyler when he wakes up. I wouldn’t have to see the disappointment in his eyes.

The machine begins to beep faster as I try to lift my arm, trying to reach Tyler. It hurts like a motherfucker, and I drop it. But he must notice the movement because his eyes slowly open, blinking the sleep away. Not that he achieves it. He looks tired and run down. But he still lifts his head, his brows furrowed, his lips turned down. The light in his eyes has dimmed, and he doesn’t even look happy to see me awake. Maybe he was hoping I wouldn’t wake up. Maybe I’m a burden?—

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