Grappling for Position (Against the Cage Book 4) Page 29

  “Mr. Scott?”

  “That’s me,” Kyle said, stepping forward anxiously. “How is Willow?”

  “She’s stable. The surgery went well. Her spleen was ruptured, and she lost a lot of blood, but I was able to repair her splenic artery, and she was given a transfusion. She has a head injury that we’re monitoring closely, though there is no bleeding, thankfully. Willow’s prognosis is good. I believe she’ll make a full recovery.”

  “Thank God,” Kyle said, and the entire room seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief.

  Regan sent up his own prayer of thanks, and the tight band around his chest slowly began to release. For the first time in hours, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

  “I can take one of you back with me,” the surgeon offered, looking between Kyle and Regan, both standing there having worn the fear of God on their faces.

  Regan exchanged an uncomfortable look with Kyle. They both wanted to go back there with her, both wanted to be the first face she saw when she woke up. A different kind of tension spiked in the room now, and the uneasy truce that had settled between them began to waver. He wanted to push to be the one who went back there with Willow, but Regan knew if he picked this battle, it would undo what progress they’d made toward healing their fractured friendship.

  As much as Kyle was having a hard time with Regan and Willow’s relationship, Regan suspected the root of the problem lay in letting his little sister go. Kyle was struggling with her no longer having that dependence on him, and figuring out where he fit into her life now wasn’t going to be easy. And like with any good father-figure, he supposed, whether it was Regan or some other guy Willow chose to give her heart to, Kyle was going to have to learn to step aside and let her have a life of her own. That acceptance might not come today or maybe not even tomorrow, but he had to believe that eventually they’d get there.

  Kyle needed to see that just because Regan was part of Willow’s life in a more integral way, it didn’t mean that she loved her brother any less—or needed him any less. It took every last bit of Regan’s strength to take that step back and give Kyle a nod. “Go ahead. You should be there with her when she wakes up. I know she wants to see you.”

  Kyle shot him a surprised look. Clearly, he’d been expecting a fight, and judging by the cautious glances of the other fighters, so had they. Kyle stepped forward to follow the doctor to the recovery area but paused when Regan said, “Please tell Willow I’m here and that I love her.”

  For a moment, Kyle didn’t move, but then he nodded. The reluctant acquiescence was so slight Regan almost missed it before the doctor used his badge to open the doors and Kyle followed him through. Regan exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and felt that familiar, comforting hand clasping his shoulder again. He glanced to his left and met Coach’s eyes.

  “I’m proud of you, Regan. I know that wasn’t easy for you to do. Give Kyle some time. He’ll come around.”

  Time. It was the one uncontrollable inevitability they were all forced to succumb to. The problem was none of them knew how much of it they had—and out of it, regret was often born. For Regan, time was marked by the reflection of tragedy. It was how he gauged his life, noted the passage of time, and this would be no different.

  Willow still hadn’t regained consciousness by the time they moved her to the Surgical ICU. Despite the doctors’ assurances that her “anesthesia was still wearing off” and they needed to “just have patience,” Regan was finding it increasingly difficult to heed their advice. At the sight of her lying in that hospital bed, cuts and bruises marring that beautiful skin, déjà vu whipped him back to another time, another place. This wasn’t Regan’s first experience sitting vigil at Willow’s bedside with that small, delicate hand clasped tightly in his as he prayed for God to spare her life.

  His prayers had been answered once before, would they be heard now? She looked so fragile. . . so broken lying there that his heart physically ached with each beat. The feeling of utter helplessness infuriated him. Campoli wouldn’t get away with this. Whether directly or indirectly, Regan knew Campoli was responsible for Willow’s accident. If it was the last thing he did, he’d see to it that the bastard paid.

  Reciting the vow for easily the hundredth time, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against their laced fingers. He refused to move as one hour turned into two, and then three turned into four. Kyle had taken up residence on the opposite side of her bed, Willow’s other hand held tightly in his grasp. And hadn’t they become the perfect picture—both of them clinging to this woman they desperately loved, though for vastly different reasons, while she was caught in the middle of a fractured friendship.

  Neither of them spoke; Regan was grateful that the animosity seemed to have taken a backseat to the greater issue at hand—Willow making it through this alive.

  Perhaps they’d never get back to where they once were, sparring partners and best friends, but there was nothing like getting your heart ripped out by tragedy to make a person reevaluate the things and relationships that mean the most to him.

  “I saw the police talking to you earlier. Are they anywhere close to catching the guy who did this?” Regan asked, breaking the silence.

  “I told them about the hearing and that Will was planning to appeal Campoli’s parole. Apparently, she went to the police and reported some concerns. They wouldn’t tell me exactly what they were. You know anything about that?”

  “No. I tried talking to her about Campoli a couple of times, but she either outright shot me down or changed the subject.”

  “I told them about her history with him and that he’d tried to kill her once. They were already investigating it. I don’t know . . . part of me hopes they let that fucker out.”

  Regan knew the feeling. He’d had several of the same thoughts himself. “She won’t be able to appeal it now in her condition, so they very well might. The way I see it, you have two choices. Do nothing and possibly get your wish, or take her place on the stand and try to keep him behind bars.”

  Their eyes met and locked over her. Neither of them spoke again for the longest time. Finally, Kyle exhaled a sharp curse and dragged his hand through his hair. “If I go in there, I’m going to want to kill him.”

  “I know the feeling, trust me. But this isn’t about you or me or what either of us wants. It’s about Willow. It’s important to her that Campoli stays behind bars. This is her justice. You’ll get yours once he’s released. I’ve no doubt about that.” A few seconds ticked by as Kyle seemed to consider what Regan was telling him. “She was worried you wouldn’t be there—at the hearing.”

  Pain flashed in Kyle’s eyes, and he turned away, but not before Regan caught a glimpse of their glossy sheen.

  “She tell you that?” He cleared his throat when it cracked and used his thumb to clear the moisture from the corner of his eye.

  Regan nodded. “She mentioned it. But you know Willow; she wouldn’t hardly talk about the hearing, so . . .”

  Kyle glanced up at the monitor above the bed, watching the waveform of her heartbeat track across the screen. “I know I let her down. I hurt her when it was the last thing I wanted to do.”

  “She knows you love her, Kyle.”

  “It’s just so fucking hard to let her go, you know? She’s been the center of my world since Mom and Dad died.”

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t. She chose you, man. I gave her an ultimatum, and she picked you.”

  “Why does she have to choose? This was never a competition. I’m not trying to take your place. Her feelings for me don’t lessen her loyalty to you. You’re her brother. She adores you. Why can’t you just be happy for us?”

  Kyle didn’t respond. Instead, he stubbornly held Regan’s stare. Frustration boiled up inside him, his hands curling into fists as he fought the urge to leap across the bed and beat some sense into the guy.

  “Listen. I know I don’t deserve her. I’ll be the first one
to admit it. But I promise you, Kyle, you will never find anyone who will love her more than I do.”

  Chapter 34

  Campoli’s hearing had been yesterday, and Kyle had gone in Willow’s place. They’d allowed him to speak on her behalf, petitioning the denial of Sean Campoli’s early parole. Regan hadn’t accompanied him, not that Kyle would have wanted him there. Maybe at one time that would have been his place, but not anymore, not after all that had happened. He had no idea what Kyle had said at the hearing. He wouldn’t talk about it with Regan, but whatever it was must have been convincing because Sean Campoli’s petition for early parole was denied. Willow would be relieved to know it was over, and he couldn’t wait for her to hear the good news—if she ever woke up.

  Three days came and went, and still Willow remained unconscious. The doctors didn’t understand why, and multiple brain scans couldn’t explain it. “Head injuries can be unpredictable,” the neurologist told Regan. “Have patience. There is no reason to believe she will not wake or have a full recovery.” But after days of hearing that same message, he was out of patience.

  “You keep saying that, Doc. But every day I sit by her side and nothing is happening. You don’t understand,” Regan snapped, roughly dragging his hand through his hair. “My entire life is lying in that bed in a fucking coma, and you’re not doing a goddamn thing to help her!”

  Somewhere far away, the rational side of Regan’s brain was trying to tell him that wasn’t true and warning him that slinging accusations at Willow’s neurologist wasn’t going to help this situation. It certainly wouldn’t wake her up any faster. But he was operating on emotion and pure exhaustion at this point. He was showing a side of himself he wasn’t proud of—a side that he usually hid well, because it frighteningly reminded him of his father.

  “I can see you’re under a great amount of stress, Mr. Matthews. Perhaps there is someone we can call for you. Perhaps a—”

  “No, there isn’t!” And how fucking sad and pathetic was that? “Did you not just hear me tell you? She’s all I have!”

  “Mr. Matthews.” The neurologist’s patronizing tone sharpened. “I will caution you once and once only. You will keep your voice down, or I will have you removed from this hospital. I have done everything I can to help Ms. Scott, and I will continue to do so. Just because she isn’t awake doesn’t mean she can’t hear you. The best thing you can do right now is talk to her. And when you’re tired of talking, talk some more. Eventually, she’s going to wake up. And might I suggest that you get some rest.”

  The door opened behind them and Kyle entered. Regan was sure he heard the neurologist grumble under his breath, “God help me.” He couldn’t blame the guy. Regan knew he and Kyle hadn’t exactly been easy to deal with over the last few days. Kyle had gone home to get cleaned up, something Regan needed to do as well, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Willow’s side. He had to be here if she woke up—when she woke up.

  “How’s Willow?”

  “No change,” Regan grumbled.

  “As I was just telling Mr. Matthews, all of Willow’s scans are normal. There is no unidentified bleeding, and I have no clear explanation for why she hasn’t woken yet. As hard as it is, please just be patient. Sometimes these things take time.”

  Kyle didn’t look any happier about the doctor’s response than Regan was, but at least he had the self-control to keep his mouth shut. The doctor left with the promise to return later that day to check on her, and Kyle came over to what had become his side of the bed and dropped into the chair. He looked every bit as exhausted as Regan felt. Despite his effort to hide it, Kyle’s limp hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Regan felt like shit. He’d tried to apologize and ask Kyle about his knee, but he refused to talk to him about it.

  “I have some appointments today I shouldn’t miss, and this afternoon I’m meeting with the detective in charge of the investigation of Will’s accident. With any luck, they’ll be making an arrest soon. Are you going to be here today? I don’t want her waking up alone.”

  Regan was under no illusion that Kyle’s cool acceptance of his bedside vigil was in any way a sign of his blessing. Much of Kyle’s anger may have died down, replaced by fear and worry for his sister, but they were so far from where they used to be as friends, and Regan wasn’t holding out much hope that they would ever get back there again. The most he could probably hope for was polite disdain, which was where they seemed to be right now.

  “I’ll be here.”

  Kyle nodded and exhaled a sigh before getting back to his feet. Leaning over his sister’s bed, he brushed Willow’s hair back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back in a bit, Will.” Then to Regan he said, “Call me if there are any changes.”

  “I remember the first time I saw you like it was yesterday.” Regan sat beside Willow’s bed, his side resting against the edge of her mattress, his elbow propped next to her hip. He’d been talking so long he’d lost track of how much time passed—hours, days, who knew? But the doctor told him to talk to her, so that’s what he was doing.

  Eventually, he found himself running out of things to say and kept digging deeper for ideas until he found himself sharing things he’d never told anyone before. It was an utter purging of his soul, really. He talked about his father, his mother . . . sharing memories—memories he thought he’d forgotten, but over the years had become buried beneath layers of grief.

  He’d since moved past the painful stuff and was now talking about them. “I think you might have been ten or so—just a girl. Your hair was so blonde it was almost white, just a shade lighter than now.” He lifted a platinum lock and let it slip through his fingers. “I wondered if it would be as soft as it looked and how I might get close enough to touch it without anyone noticing.”

  Regan studied her beautiful face as he let his mind drift, reminiscing over memories of a curiously bold little girl who’d looked like a young pixie without wings.

  “It was, you know . . . softer than I’d ever imagined. And after that moment, I was forever finding an excuse to touch it. That’s why I always pulled your braids. You thought I was picking on you, but I wasn’t. I think even back then you owned a piece of my heart. But I knew I wasn’t any good for you. You deserved better than some trailer-trash charity case. As we grew older, I told myself I could be content just being your friend. And it worked . . . for a long time—until the night at that party when you kissed me.

  “Fuck . . .” He chuffed, shaking his head at the vivid memory. “You were just a kid, sixteen years old, and you turned my world upside down. I spent the next four years fighting a losing battle. I made a lot of bad decisions during that time—did a lot of things I’m not proud of. I think that’s partially why Kyle will probably never approve of us being together, and a part of me doesn’t blame him. I partied way too hard trying to get you out of my system. I regret that now. Truth be told, I regret most of my goddamn life. But you, Willow, you I will never regret. Of all the mistakes I’ve made, you were the one thing I did right. Please, baby. . .” He took Willow’s hand in his and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You gotta wake up. I need you to come back to me because I don’t think I can do life without you.”

  Regan’s voice broke, and he closed his eyes against the burn of tears. Resting his forehead on their hands, his shoulders shook in exhausted defeat. He had no idea how long he sat there like that, but then he felt her touch him. At first, he thought he’d imagined that light brush of his hair. He wanted to believe it was her so badly he was almost afraid to look. But then it happened again. Her fingers gently stroked hair he’d been dragging his hands through for days.

  His head slowly lifted, and he’d never seen a more beautiful sight than this woman smiling at him. “Hey. . .” Her voice was a scratchy rasp, and music to his ears.

  “Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was hit by a car.”

  He shook his head. Leave it to Willow to crack a joke after being in a fucki
ng coma. “It’s not funny. You scared the hell out of me.”

  Her bravado slipped, her chin quivering as tears pooled in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Aww, baby, don’t cry.” Regan rose and climbed into bed beside her, gently pulling Willow into his arms, taking care not to snag any of her tubes or wires. “You’re going to be okay,” he crooned, smoothing his hand over her hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “It’s been four days since your accident.” She stiffened in his arms and pulled back far enough to look at him.

  “The parole hearing . . . I missed it.”

  “It’s all right. Kyle went in your place. He explained to them what happened, and because you two are family, the court allowed him to speak on your behalf.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “Sean Campoli’s parole was denied. He won’t be eligible for consideration for another five years.”

  “Oh, thank God.” She hugged him tighter, nestling her face into the crook of his neck.

  “The police are investigating your accident. Kyle said he thinks they’re getting close to making an arrest. He’ll know more later this afternoon.”

  “Is he here?”

  “He has been—day and night. He left a little while ago. He’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Are things any better between you two?” Fatigue was already making her lids heavy. Regan rested her head on his chest and snuggled her in his arms, right where she belonged. Exhaling a soft sigh, Willow settled in and closed her eyes. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “We’ve come to an unspoken truce. It’ll all work out, Willow. I don’t want you worrying about Kyle or me. The only thing you should be concentrating on is getting better so I can take my girl home.”

  “I love you, Regan.”

  “I love you too.” Regan kissed the top of her head and let his eyes drift close. For the first time in days, he finally let himself sleep.