Page 64 of Cruel Alpha Beast
Ellis stands over Danielle’s shoulder, watching fearfully as she tries her best to keep healing Sawyer as we head for the outskirts.
“He’s not going to get better, is he?” Ellis mutters fearfully.
“I can do this,” It sounds like Danielle is trying harder to assure herself more than him or even me.
Ellis’s pessimism persists, but I’m able to tune it out by thinking hopeful thoughts about Sawyer making it home, recovering, and living a very happy life with Shea and me.
It’s going to happen, I tell myself. It has to.
“I can’t lose you, Sawyer,” I tell him out loud. “I know you can hear me.”
***
The witches who helped carry Sawyer with their powers file through the kitchen door as soon as he’s stabilized on the couch. After holding hands and singing in a language I don’t understand, I can see that his wounds are not fully healed, but they’re looking much better. Still, I know I will have to sit vigil over him all night because I won’t be able to sleep.
The only people remaining in my living room are Jasper, Ellis, Greg, Danielle, and Monroe, though there’s a part of me that doesn’t even register their presence. In fact, if I didn’t hear Greg on the phone with Lucas, saying things like, “You should come here, just in case,” and “Bring Shea.”
Monroe makes me a hot tea that I largely ignore. Danielle sits at my side, grabbing one hand of mine that isn’t attached to Sawyer’s. Jasper and Ellis linger against the wall, both terrified that they just might lose one of their oldest friends.
“You don’t all have to say here,” I say, my entire being numb. “You can go home and get some rest.”
There are two answers mumbled back at me, and they both sound almost exactly the same.
“We’re not leaving you,” and “We’re not leaving him.”
It’s fine. It’s all the same to me, anyway.
Greg sits at Sawyer’s head, silent tears falling down his cheeks. When the front door opens, he quickly rises and meets up with the people walking into my kitchen. He speaks in hushed whispers, I don’t even bother trying to eavesdrop on. But my ears do perk up when I hear a soft, sweet little voice.
“Is Daddy okay?”
It’s Shea, and she must have just been woken up to come here.
“Oh, no, Shea, stay with Uncle Greg,” my brother says, but he’s clearly not fast enough to stop her from sneaking past him.
“Shea, come here,” Monroe says, trying to pick up where Greg had failed.
“I want to see my Daddy,” Shea says.
In my haze of numbness, I almost start laughing. Of anyone here, Monroe should know how stubborn my daughter is when she’s tired.
“Let her come here,” I say, letting go of Danielle’s hand to reach for Shea.
“Lacey, don’t you think that will traumatize her?” Danielle murmurs to me.
“It’s her father, and he’s going to be fine,” I say.
At that moment, Lucas walks into the living room. He takes one look at his son and bursts into tears, wailing at the sight of Sawyer lying there like that. Not quite dead yet, but not looking very alive.
“My boy,” he keeps saying. “My boy.”
Shea finally grabs onto my hand, and when she does, she sees her father’s shirtless body, and the angry scars all over him. Immediately, she starts crying, too.
“Daddy! Daddy, wake up!”
Just then, Sawyer’s eyes start to open, and everyone in the room leans forward. He’s able to twist his head toward Shea and musters something like a smile. The numbness inside of me starts to thaw, and tears spill from my eyes again.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs. “I love you, so, so, so, so,somuch, Shea. Always have, always will.”
