Page 73 of Teach Me
Con watched his dad taste the dark hospital brew, then grimace. Like Con, he’d always appreciated good coffee, and neither one of them had gotten “good” since they’d arrived. Con didn’t drink, just held the cup in his hand.
Ben jerked his chin toward Jess’s closed door. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. The nurse is checking her bandages now and making sure everything is still stable. She threw me out.”
Ben grunted, then choked when he attempted another sip of the acrid coffee. Con pounded his back absently.
“Thanks,” Ben said drily. “So that’s how Jess is doing. How about you? You okay?”
Meeting his dad’s gray eyes was like looking into a slightly faded mirror. Right now all the concern Con felt for Jess stared back at him.
“No.”God, no.His mind was brittle with lack of sleep and the continuing fear that this whole thing wasn’t quite over yet. “I’m not okay.” He screwed his eyelids shut tight and whispered, “She’s not okay. She tries to sleep, but she keeps jerking awake, crying, wheezing when there’s no reason to wheeze. She’s reliving it, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it—again.” It was as if Brit’s torture returned in cycles to torment them both.
His dad stepped close, the solid warmth of his body standing shoulder to shoulder with Con giving him back some small semblance of calm.
“It’s my fault, Dad. I never should have left her at the house. I never should’ve taken so long to admit…I love her.” His muscles started a steady tremor as he breathed out his greatest shame to the only person he would ever trust to hear it. “I did this to her.”
Ben reached down to set his cup on the floor. When he stood back up, he took Con’s shoulders in a tight grip. “Look at me, Son.”
Con wanted to, but it was impossible. His gaze weighed a thousand pounds, and he couldn’t lift it off the floor. He couldn’t face this man who’d raised him, who’d taught him to protect those around him, while he carried the knowledge that he had failed the one person that mattered most.
Ben’s voice went hard, that drill-sergeant voice he’d learned in the military much better than Con had. “I said look at me.”
Con’s eyes snapped up to meet his father’s.
Ben leaned in, nose to nose, eye to eye, just as he had so many times during Con’s childhood when he’d wanted his son to truly hear him. “Do you blame me for what Delia did?”
He jerked in his father’s hold. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? For the first few years, before you could talk, I didn’t really recognize what was going on. She was bitchy, sure, but… Once you were older, part of me just didn’t want to admit I could have been so wrong about someone I thought I loved. Someone who claimed to love me. I tried to protect you as best I could, but I should’ve walked away and taken you with me instead of upholding vows that obviously didn’t mean diddly-squat to her. You got hurt, even though I tried to prevent it. Why don’t you blame me?”
Conlan ran his fingers through his tangled hair in frustration. “You loved me. You did the best you could.”
Ben dropped his head, still and silent for a moment before he raised it once again to meet Con’s eyes. “You love her. You did the best you could.” He squeezed down on Con’s shoulders. “You love this woman; I see it in your eyes. You gave her the chance to stop that bastard even though you didn’t want to risk her. The fact that it didn’t end up the way either of you thought it would isn’t on you or her; it’s on Holbrooke. You did the best you could,” he said again, staring Con down.
When Con opened his mouth to argue, his dad stopped him with a shake of his head. “It’s the truth, Son. It will take time, but you have to decide—do you want to hang on to that guilt and let it eat you up inside, destroy everything you could have with Jess, or do you want to focus on the woman lying in that bed in there who needs you, loves you, and forgives you?”
Staring into his father’s eyes, Con struggled with the choice. He didn’t want to forgive himself, didn’t know how Jess ever could. Then he remembered what she had said as she lay bleeding out onto that damn white comforter.
“I knew you would come.”
No blame, only love. Acceptance. Peace. She was his peace. For her, he would work through anything.
“I love her so much, Dad.” He was unashamed that his voice cracked on the final word.
“I know, Son. I know. And that’s what’s gonna get you through.”
Jack showed up a few minutes later to find them side by side, a matching set of bookends squatting against the wall, sipping bitter coffee to try and stay awake. As he tipped his head back to look at Jack, Con wondered if the weariness dragging at him showed as much on him as it did on his best friend. Con wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what the cops had found. Jack had run interference, dealing with the local PD and Gaines when he’d finally arrived, straightening out the mess they had left in the bedroom, and generally making sure no one bothered them as they worked to get Jess stable. Con knew they hadn’t gone easy on Jack. Having his friend guard their backs anyway meant more than Con would probably ever be able to express.
“Hey, man,” he said.
“Hey, yourself.” Jack jerked his chin toward the still-closed door to Jess’s room. “How’s she doing?”
“We’re out of the woods. Doc says they’ll keep her here another couple of days just to be sure. Too many stitches to count, several pints of blood to replace what she lost, concussion, broken rib…” He could go on, but Jack had seen her in that bedroom; he got the idea.
“Hm.”
Jack’s shoulders hunched forward, but the single syllable was all they got out of him. Con didn’t know whether to be worried or grateful. He assumed there was news, and he certainly didn’t want to hear they were putting his ass in jail, but he could really use a few hours with only good things coming their way. When Jack motioned for them to step over to a lounge area across the hall, he figured the scale was tipping away from his chances of getting those dreamed-of hours.
