Edison (The Henchmen MC 10)

"Lenny, what happened?"

I couldn't.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't go into all the details.

I couldn't even stay upright.

I pulled back, lowering down on my side, facing away from him. "She took her off life support without letting me say goodbye."

I expected the tears to come again.

But my eyes remained stubbornly dry.

Empty, that was what I was.

Empty even of tears.

Just a hollow shell.

I wasn't aware of much, save for the wall I stared at. I assumed Edison came and went.

At some point, I went to sleep.

When I woke up again, Edison was in bed beside me, fast asleep.

I inched out of bed myself, feeling like a zombie as I moved through his room, then into the hall, and out to the common room where Cyrus and Cash were sitting, sharing a few beers.

"Honey, you need something?" Cash asked, voice telling me that he knew.

I would have been upset about that if I hadn't shown up absolutely losing my shit, and therefore making them ask questions that Edison had to answer.

"My keys," I said, my voice as hollow as I felt.

"I don't think—" Cyrus started to object.

"I'm not asking," I snapped.

"You heard her," Pagan said from behind me, making me jump as he moved past me to go behind the bar, and fish out my keys. "We aren't her captors. She can go if she needs to go."

He handed me the keys, and the nod I gave him was as close to thanks as I could manage.

I didn't say anything else, felt like there was a fist lodged in my throat, making it impossible, so I didn't even try.

I went outside, found my car, and did what I hadn't been able to stop thinking of since the second my eyes opened.

I needed to go home.

So I did.

And then I dug up all the hiding places, pulling out her ballerina box, and what was left of the tea set from her childhood, the exact cups that I had tattooed on my hip.

Letha, she had the teapot on her back.

I had jokingly said when we packed the damn set up to move her into her newest apartment that they were like us. She was so full that she poured over and filled up my empty.

That was when we decided to get the tattoos.

Now, well, mine felt oddly appropriate, didn't it?

I was just empty.

With nothing to ever fill me back up again.

I cradled that teacup to my chest, curling down on my side on the unyielding, ugly floor.

The cold had worked its way through my body, making me shiver hard when my door opened. Actually, maybe I had even left it open. I didn't know. All I did know is that I heard familiar boots, then saw knees as Edison knelt down beside me.

His hand moved out, touching the delicate children's teacup.

"I wanted to tell her about you," I told him, not sure where the words were coming from since my brain felt numb and empty. I guess, maybe, it was coming from somewhere else. My heart. My soul. "When I was going to see her today, I was excited to finally tell her. She would have loved that information, if she was awake. I just... I don't know. I like talking to her like she was. Liked," I clarified, feeling another stab.

She was going to become a past tense.

That was never going to stop hurting.

"But when I got there, my mom had already pulled her life support. She had no right," I added, feeling a bit of the rage bubble up. "I was the one there for her, protecting her from our mother all her life, making sure she got given back to Jake to protect her from the jackass my mom was married to who felt me up in my sleep."

A hand that had landed on my thigh reassuringly suddenly tightened hard.

"He what?"

"That wasn't the point," I brushed it off. "I was the one at her bedside every week, calling in experts."

I didn't want to believe the first doctor's opinion, that she was dead already, that I should just pull the plug. I had called in for a second opinion where I was told that the first doctor was, essentially, a moron. You had to give the brain a chance to heal. He said that in his opinion, everyone should be given six months to let the swelling go down so all the tests could be more conclusive.

That was why I had been counting down the six months, hoping for slow improvement.

Unfortunately, it got clearer and clearer that Letha was not going to be one of the lucky ones.

But that was my choice to make.

Me.

Who was there at her side.

Who had painted her nails, only to take it back off each time because the nurses needed to keep an eye in case anything went blue. I brushed her hair. I talked to her. I made sure the TV was on Animal Planet or HGTV because that was what she liked.