Page 97 of Cross My Heart

“Baby,” he breathes, and my body relaxes against the bed. “I’msosorry,” he sobs, and this time I’m the one who frowns.

My throat hurts as I try to talk, and I clear it. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“For not seeing it earlier.” Ty grabs my leg, probably because he doesn’t want to hurt me. “For not getting you the help you needed.”

“Tyler, please look at me,” I demand. “None of this was your fault. I’m the one who should feel guilty.”And I do.“Not you.”

“I shouldn’t have gone to work.” He shakes his head. “I should’ve stayed home.”

“You can’t babysit me, Ty,” I sigh. “I would’ve found a way to do it anyway.”

“Do you…” He starts, worrying his lip with his teeth. “Do you still want to be dead?”

Yes.

“No,” I lie. I think I’ll always want to die, especially after my memories have returned. The guilt of being alive while they’re dead is a lot to handle, and I wish the flight medics had never found me. That they had let me die too—on the dirt, in the middle of nowhere, just like my squad. “I don’t.”

“Okay,” he whispers, but I can tell he knows I’m lying. He’s always been able to tell. “I notified the Army.”

“You didwhat?” I gasp, my arms screaming in pain as my body tenses. A cold sweat crashes over me, starting down my spine, and then going down my arms and to my hands. They get clammy and begin to shake, and I take a deep breath in, to no avail. “Tyler, how fucking could you?”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Noah,” he snaps at me, and I’m stunned into silence. “You killed yourself. Did you know I had to watch you die? Who the fuck did you think was going to find you?”

“I’m sorry,” I reply, feeling guilty all over again. He’s right, that wasn’t fair. “I’m so sorry, Tyler. I wasn’t thinking about that. I was just in so much pain?—”

“Are you going to get help now?”

“I don’t think I have a choice anymore,” I tell him. “Now that the Army knows, I’ll probably be forced to get treatment. Not to mention, I’m probably on a hold in here for attempting suicide.”

Tyler nods.

Great.

My nostrils flare as I try to take in more air, my chest hurting from an impending panic attack. My chest gets tight, the machine begins to beep faster, and my breaths stall in my lungs. Suddenly a nurse comes in here, walking to my bedside. She places her hand on my chest and counts to ten, showing me how to breathe properly.

“It’s okay,” she soothes. “Just breathe in and out. Focus on my voice, Mr. Milner.”

It doesn’t take very long before I can take another breath, and I’m thankful she came in. I’m in so much pain. I need something to take the edge off.

She seems to know somehow, because she asks, “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, how would you rate your pain?”

“An eight,” I answer, my arms throbbing.

“I’ll be right back,” she replies. “Gonna get you some medicine.”

I nod and she disappears behind the curtain.

She’s back in a minute or two with a vial of medication and a syringe. Scanning the medication, she asks me for my name and date of birth, then administers it into my IV in my neck. It burns as it goes in, but the bag of saline water hanging by my bedside makes it better.

My eyes droop, my breathing slows, and my head falls to the side slowly. The next time I open my eyes the curtains are open and it’s daytime, and Tyler’s head is on my bed again. He’s not sleeping. Just staring at me.

“Don’t be creepy.” I smirk, but he doesn’t even smile back. It hurts my heart. I wish he wasn’t this sad over me. But I know it’s all my fault, and I can’t really fix it. Not until I get the help I need. “Not in the mood for jokes this morning?”

“Ha, ha, Noah,” Ty says sarcastically. “You’re just so funny.”

“I know, love.” I’m trying to lighten the mood, but goddamn, he’s not letting me. “I?—”

“I can’t laugh when you’re in here.” He pauses, looking right into my eyes. “When I failed you.”

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