Page 4 of Entwined
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Easton took my hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I know,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I see how you look at him. There was a time my mother looked at him that way.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he had just confirmed what I had been too afraid to admit even to myself. The realization that he understood, that he didn’t judge me for loving Colson was a small comfort in the midst of all this pain.
“Easton,” I began, my voice trembling, “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to watch him die.”
Easton shifted closer, wrapping an arm around me. “We’re all here with you,” he said firmly.
His words, his unwavering support, gave me the strength I didn’t know I had left. I rested my head against his shoulder, letting his warmth seep into me, and for the first time in days, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, I could survive this.
The clock seemed to mock me as I sat on the edge of the bed, flipping through channels with the remote. Nothing held my attention, not the dramas, not the news, not even the mindless reality shows. I was too restless, too worried, every nerve in my body on high alert as I waited for Colson to return.
I knew it had been foolish to let him go. He wasn’t strong enough, no matter how much he insisted otherwise. The image of him faltering as he dressed in that damn suit haunted me, his hands shaking as he buttoned up his shirt, the effort it took just to stand. I couldn’t stop him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t terrified.
The sound of the front door closing downstairs made my heart leap into my throat. I muted the television, straining to hear anything—voices, footsteps, anything that would tell me he was okay. Moments later, the door to our room opened, and Vaughn stepped inside, practically carrying Colson. The sight of him, so pale and exhausted, made my heart clench with fear.
“Joey,” Vaughn said softly, nodding to me as he guided Colson to the bed.
I rushed to them, my hands trembling as I took Colson’s arm, helping him sit down. He was so weak, so utterly drained. The powerful man I had always known was slipping away right before my eyes.
“Vaughn,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “thank you.”
He gave me a somber nod before leaving us alone. I could hear him softly closing the door behind him, and the room seemed to shrink, filled with the heavy silence of our shared fear.
“Colson,” I whispered, crouching in front of him. He looked at me, his blue eyes clouded with exhaustion and pain. “You shouldn’t have gone.”
He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Had to… couldn’t let him see weakness.”
I shook my head, tears threatening to spill. “This isn’t about showing weakness. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
His hand moved to my cheek, the touch so light it was almost as if he was afraid he’d break me. “Joey, I’m okay. Just… tired.”
I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t. “Let me help you get undressed,” I murmured, my voice thick with worry.
Colson didn’t protest. He was too tired to argue. As I unbuttoned his shirt, my fingers brushed over the gaunt lines of his chest, the sharp edges of his ribs. He had lost weight in such a short time. It terrified me.
I eased his shirt off, then helped him out of his trousers, every movement slow and deliberate. He was a shadow of the man I had fallen in love with, and it broke me to see him like this. When he was finally undressed, I guided him into bed, pulling the covers up around him, trying to offer some semblance of comfort.
He turned on his side, facing me, and I did the same, lying down next to him. I reached out, cupping his face in my hand, mythumb brushing over his cheek. “Colson,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of my fear, “I’m so scared.”
His eyes searched mine, filled with a sadness that cut me to the bone. “Of what, Joey?”
Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to keep looking at him, to say the words that had been clawing at me for days. “I’m scared you won’t live to see our baby born.”
The tears came then, hot and uncontrollable, spilling down my cheeks. Colson’s hand moved to wipe them away, his thumb gently brushing over my skin. “Joey,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion, “don’t cry, please.”
But I couldn’t stop. The fear, the helplessness, it all poured out of me. “I can’t do this without you,” I choked out, my body trembling as I tried to hold him closer, to keep him with me for as long as I could.
Colson pulled me into him, his arms weak but still trying to offer comfort. He whispered against my hair. “And I’ll fight to be here, I promise you that.”
His words were a balm to my broken heart, but they didn’t erase the gnawing worry that he was pushing himself too hard, that he was hastening the inevitable. I held onto him, afraid that if I let go, even for a second, he would slip away from me.
We stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, until exhaustion finally claimed us both. And as I drifted off to sleep, my tears still wet on my cheeks, I clung to the hope that somehow, some way, Colson would find the strength to stay with me, to meet our child, and to hold on just a little longer.
I woke several times throughout the night, each time reaching out instinctively for Colson. My fingers sought his, finding comfort in the simple act of holding his hand. He was here, with me, and for those fleeting moments, the fear receded. When morning finally came, I stirred to the sight of him sitting at his desk, his back to me.
“What are you doing?” I mumbled, my voice still thick with sleep.
He glanced over his shoulder, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just checking the contract for the Svensen deal. Everything seems to be in order.”
