His gaze met hers.
“I was...I was coming to tell you...to give back your house.”
What she said registered.
She was here because of him.
If he hadn’t given her the house she wouldn’t have driven to Nashville, wouldn’t have been on I-24 when her car got struck, wouldn’t by lying in this hospital bed recovering from serious injuries.
This was his fault.
He might not have been the one driving the car that slammed into Savannah, but it had been his fault she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Just as his mother’s wreck had been his fault.
“I’m sorry, Savannah.” He was. So very sorry.
She didn’t respond to his apology, just closed her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, this time a little louder.
“Just go,” she finally said, her eyelids not budging. “Just leave me alone.”
* * *
Savannah’s head hurt, but as far as she could tell her brain was working. It was working, right? Because she was telling Charlie to go away.
Okay, so what she wanted to do was beg him to hold her, to let her cry over her pain, over her aches, over how scared she’d been when she’d braked, the moment of relief when she’d gotten stopped prior to ramming the car in front of her, then the sheer terror when she’d felt the impact, and then again. She wanted his comfort over the fear she might lose their baby.
She didn’t want to lose their baby.
Despite how heavy her hand and arm felt, she moved her hand to cup her abdomen. Several blankets were between her palm and her belly.
She wanted to move them but didn’t seem capable so maybe her brain wasn’t working so well after all because she was telling her hand to move, but her arm wasn’t cooperating.
“Let me.” Charlie pulled back the blankets and guided her hand to her slightly rounded belly.
She expected him to immediately pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, his hand stayed there with hers.
On cue, their baby moved. Just the tiniest of flutters, but one that made Savannah’s heart sing. She shifted her hand, placed Charlie’s over where she’d felt the movement.
His hand rested there for several long moments, but moved away before anything happened.
Disappointment filled her that he’d moved before getting to feel the magic of their baby’s movements. But more than that. Disappointment filled her that he was no longer touching her, that the comfort of his touch was gone.
His touch shouldn’t comfort her. She didn’t want him or trust him. His touch should enrage her.
Yeah, maybe she was wrong. She’d told him to go, yet she did want him there.
Her brain wasn’t working at all.
Maybe she had a concussion.
Actually, she probably did have a concussion.
She’d had a hard hit, had whiplash.
What had they told her was wrong with her?