Page 121 of Limbo

“You look at these?” Trey asks him, sliding out the prints.

Kevin nods and nervously glances at me but doesn’t stop my cousin from handing me the stack. Trey stays beside me, his hand on my shoulder as I flip them over. I suck in a breath at the first picture of me lying on the stretcher. The next ones are close-ups of my injuries from several angles, then the blood covering my hands and embedded under my fingernails.

I stretch out my hand and scrutinize both sides, not a trace of it still present. The nurse told me they cleaned me up, but I never thought about what that meant until seeing the pictures with my face smeared with red and hair wet. Maybe that’s why looking through the photos, it never really feels like it’s me I’m looking at.

Trey’s grip on me tightens, and I’m not sure why until I flip to the next photo and jerk back.Graham is staring at me. I’ve seen the drunken look over and over again, but this time, it makes me shudder. The same marks from my neck streak down his arms where I clawed at him to make him stop. A gash on his side where I remember slashing him with a shard of the broken lamp. But I can’t remember landing a punch for his black eye.

“Was this you?” I ask Trey.

“He’s lucky I didn’t fucking kill him,” he says, giving a quick look to Kevin. “After I pulled him off you, he came at me, swinging. Split open my eye, broke two of my ribs before I tackled him. He also spit in Abby’s face when she got there to assist.”

I shake my head and lay the stack down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says fast. “The district attorney is planning to charge him for assaulting two officers on top of assaulting you. There’s no chance he avoids significant jail time.”

“DA changed her mind this morning.” Kevin moves to the side of the bed, picking up the pictures and sorting through them. “I talked to her before I left. She plans to charge him with attempted murder and two counts of aggravated assault, and then offer him a plea for three counts of aggravated assault.”

I rest my head on the pillow, processing what this means. No more Graham. What I’ve wanted my entire life. For me and Connor and then for him and Cate. Now, it’s real.

Their conversation cuts off when the nurse knocks on her way in. Jordan slips in behind her, ignoring the look from Kevin on his way by. He carefully presses a kiss to my lips, and as he sits in his chair beside the bed, his hand slides into mine. It stays there while Kevin says goodbye and after Pete returns to his seat by the window. And they both stay unmoved as our friends come in and out all afternoon.

The door stops opening when everyone goes out for supper. Pete grants us privacy by dragging the pink curtain around the bed to block our view of him. I offer to kick him out, but Jordan declines, not coming across nearly as irritated as he wants to be.

He climbs into the bed with me, and I relax against him. He hasn’t been far away all day, but this is the first time it feels right. My head on his shoulder while he strokes my hair. Just him and me.

“I love you, beautiful.”

I cuddle into him. “I love you.”

Even though my voice is still a little hoarse, it sounds much more like my own. It still feels like I swallowed a shot glass full of rose thorns, but compared to the truckload of nails earlier, I’ll take it.

My arm rests on his stomach, and he messes with the cast.

“Should I be offended you haven’t asked me about dinner with my parents?”

“How rude am I to make everything about me?” I say dryly.

“Very, but I’ll forgive you if we can fool around later.”

Entertaining and frustrating.

I tip my face up to see him. “How was dinner?”

He groans and closes his eyes. “Terrible. I don’t want to talk about it.”

I laugh and snuggle back into him. “So, you still don’t know what you’re doing next year.”

“Oh, I do. Decision made.”

Surprised, I lift my head again. “Well? Philosophy in Pittsburgh? Music at Berklee? Or what was the third?”

“Pot farmer,” he says. “I never expected them to let me make it to my third suggestion, so I didn’t put much thought into it.”

“Clearly. So? Option one or two—or else Tony will never leave you alone.”

“Pete, can you provide us with a drumroll, please?”

He tries again when Pete doesn’t answer, and the worst attempt at a drumroll I’ve ever heard comes through the curtain. Jordan insults him, and Pete calls him an asshole, and before they start bickering like an old married couple, I stop them.

---