Chapter Twenty-Eight
Who knew the sound of heart monitors could be soothing? It was the middle of the night when Seth finally lay in a hospital bed, admitted, stable, sedated. So surreal that he’d survived.
Not trusting the truth of the beeping, of the quietude cutting through the haze of panic that had pumped adrenaline through Tyler’s blood for hours, he rested his elbows on the hospital bed. Watching search and rescue workers maneuvering down through the cave-in into blackness in the middle of a rainstorm that he was certain had buried his son for good in a suffocating grave had shaved years off his life he’d never get back.
He dropped his forehead to his fists, his clothes and skin cold and covered in mud, and sucked in a hard inhale. He was ruining the crisp sheets with his filth but couldn’t bring himself to leave Seth’s side to wash. The adrenaline was ebbing from his system. Tears flooded Tyler’s eyes unchecked, welling from nowhere and suddenly, he couldn’t stop them. They vaulted down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead hard against his bloodied knuckles, choking his throat, leaving him spent. Angry. Bitter. So fearful, he’d questioned his own strength. So furious that he’d been unable to protect his son. This is what it felt like to almost lose everything.
*
Would the guiltever abate? The monitors beeped into the milky darkness of the hospital room. But Tyler’s tears? Heart gritted back her own tears, arms wrapped tightly around Stevie who was curled in the corner reclining chair with her, smoothed his hair back and picked out a random speck of green glitter. The boy slept against her torso. Yet she couldn’t break her gaze away from Tyler’s form. So there was something that could crush Hercules. Seeing this big, strong man succumb to tears was twisting a knife in her gut.
Seth looked so fragile. Arm broken and immobilized, medically sedated but otherwise alive. It could have been so much worse, but it never had to happen in the first place. It was her fault. She’d made a horrible error in judgement. Anguish filled her like an overflowing drain. The mist lingering behind her eyelids vied for freedom again. Still, she blinked it back on a soft, shaky breath, determined to not draw attention.
But the iciness of this room brought back too many memories. Cold, sterile memories. Lonely weeks of recovery. And the intense desire to cut and run overwhelmed her, if not for the boy nestled close, holding her there, needing someone’s arms around him, because Tyler, right now, couldn’t. Not once had Tyler allowed her, or anyone, to touch him. He was furious over the slump. Her skin pricked with unease at that fury radiating off him, his silent treatment and withdrawal.
Withdrawing again.
But this time that withdrawal seemed to suck the air from the room, leaving her gasping. It had been dark for so long through the hospital window, surely the sun was about to rise over Visitor Parking B. When were his brothers arriving? Both Travis and Toby had messaged once Seth had been life-flighted to the hospital that they were getting close. Ty could certainly use the support from them since he didn’t want it from her.
No longer able to stand the memories and guilt twisting like washrags in her belly, she slowly eased herself from beneath the boy, who groaned and resituated himself.
She slipped from the room, Tyler not even raising his head, and found the coffee at the nurse’s station. She poured him a cup and returned to the room. She wasn’t cut out for this. As much as she’d grown to love these boys, Tyler would never forgive her. Her guilt would never abate. She’d only wanted to help him win his case against the oil company. But he’d been right. She should have let it be his problem and never involved herself in it.
She was better off alone, where she couldn’t hurt anyone.
She dared to rest a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. He popped upright on a deep inhale, as if he’d been dozing. The phone in his pocket was buzzing, as it had been doing for hours now, and as he took it out, she realized the battery life was on four percent, so she rummaged in her backpack for her charging cord and silently plugged it in for him. He didn’t say a word.
Messages were stacked. She handed him the coffee, but he refused with a shake of his head and avoidance of eye contact.
“That slump wasn’t secure.” His voice was gravelly. Here it was. Heart braced herself, girded her heart against the ache vying for entrance for the inevitable breakup she knew had been coming all night. “All good sense told me to do something about it.”
Heart tensed. Glanced toward Stevie draped in the hospital blanket the nurse had given him.
“I’m sorry,” Heart whispered. “I know it’s my fault. Tyler, I…”
“It’s my fault,” Tyler frowned. “I knew it was a liability, and I failed to act. Because I wanted Fossyl’s pumps gone so badly, I was willing to compromise on the matter instead of doing what should have been done from the beginni—”
He cut himself off as the words tumbled out in a torrent he’d obviously been holding at bay, lashing her harder than a slap ever could. His eyes shot up to hers as she backed up, then turned around and paced away. It had come out harshly, his drill sergeant voice. Why couldn’t he just say it? Put her out of her misery quickly that he saw no future with her after this? The scrape of the chair told her he’d shoved to his feet.
“Heather, I didn’t mean that—”
“You’re right, though,” she muttered, touching Seth’s toes and glancing at his sedated form. Heather, not Heart. His walls were going back up. “I asked you to leave it as it was, and you listened to me. Because I was the expert, and I thought it would be okay. But I made an error in judgment that I can never take back.”
Tears bubbled up her throat.
She’d begged Monarch to throw caution to the wind, and Monarch had died. She’d convinced Tyler to leave the escarpment alone so she could gather evidence of a cache—not just for Tyler’s benefit, though. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that her own curiosity had also been part of her reasoning—and Seth had nearly lost his life tonight. The sickness kept roiling, a tumbleweed gaining speed and unable to stop.
She set down the unwanted coffee on the lonely windowsill as if it was a metaphor for her life. Crossing her arms over her body, she pulled Tyler’s oversize plaid tighter, a simple comfort that smelled like him. He was so clearly pissed, and he had every right to be, she was surprised he wasn’t unleashing on her like she’d heard him unleash on Isabella. He’d allowed her into his home, allowed his kids to trust her. He had made a mistake after all.
“Obviously, I would have made a horrible mother, so fate probably did me a solid,” she muttered bitterly. “This all happened so fast there’s no way it could have lasted.”
“What’re you saying?” Tyler said behind her. His baritone voice roughened, giving it a beautiful but dangerous edge that made the tears that had misted her eyes actually begin to bubble over.
She glanced back at him and took in the first full look at his face he’d given her since she’d interrupted his phone call with his ex and dropped the news about Seth that had made him go ashen. Even weary and exhausted, his chiseled features and quiet eyes and tousled hair were beautiful. But his posture was charged. Tense.
“I know you’re angry at me,” she whispered.
“I’m angry about a lot of things. But I take full blame for this. I made a decision based on—”