I press my fingers against the number three, and the elevator doors shut and the box lifts. Owen blows out a breath and keeps his eyes on the number scale.
One.
Two.
Three.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.
And Jaxon is there waiting, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. When he sees Owen, his shoulders sag and he rushes forward, grabbing Owen in a tight hug. “You son-of-a-bitch. We were worried about you. I was afraid you were going to do something stupid, but Grayson told me not to call, that you needed time to wrap your head around what happened.”
“Yeah.” Owen pats Jaxon’s back and clears his throat. “I feel fucking terrible, Jaxon. I… I can’t believe I lost it like that. Heaven is my best friend. I love you guys, but Heaven and me, it’s always us, you know? I wasn’t seeing him when Howard showed up with the photos. It isn’t an excuse.”
“We’ve all done terrible things, Owen. Sometimes those things effect the ones we love. You ready to see him?”
“Does he hate me?” Owen asks and pinches his brows together.
“Like Heaven could ever hate anyone. If he was murdered by a serial killer, Heaven would probably still hug the guy because that’s just Heaven. Stop worrying,” Jaxon advises. “He’s doing good. The piece of glass was deep, but it didn’t touch his heart or any other major organs. It nicked his esophagus, and that’s why he was coughing up blood.”
“So what you’re saying is…” Owen gets choked up. “What you’re saying is that he is okay?”
“Yeah, he’s doing good, and he is asking for you, so let’s go see the man, okay?”
“Okay.” Owen smiles.
We walk down the darkened hall, and the urge to pee hits me. I haven’t gone yet since I woke up. The restroom sign is up ahead, and I tug on his arm. “I’m going to go to the restroom. What room number is it, and I’ll meet you there?”
“323,” Jaxon states, and then eyes Owen warily. “We can wait. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.”
“I’ll be fine.” I roll my eyes. “Really. You guys have had one eye on me for far too long. Being able to pee on my own will be a huge step in recovery.”
“Oh, she has jokes, now? What did you do to her, Owen?” Jaxon teases and shoots me a wink and smile.
I blush as bright as a firetruck and head toward the restroom. Oh god, how embarrassing.
“You dog.” Jaxon chuckles from behind me, but even as I get further away, I hear Jaxon say, “I’m happy for you, Owen. You deserve her.”
I’m not going to cry. I’m done crying. I finally feel like I’ve been accepted, like I’ve crossed this healing milestone and the only way to go from here is up. Pushing the door open, the puke green tile floor comes to view along with three sinks against the wall. “Creepy,” I mutter. This restroom needs a desperate upgrade. The white sinks, the dirty narrow mirrors, and the stainless steel stalls give me the abandoned warehouse vibe for some reason.
Entering the stall, I lock it behind me, unbutton my pants, and do my business.
I hear the front door swing open, and shoes hit the ground as another woman walks in. I gather the toilet paper in my hand just as someone tries to open my stall door. “Someone is in here,” I say, wondering why they are choosing my stall when there are two others to the right of me that are open.
The door jiggles again and I stand, button my pants, and use my foot to flush the toilet. No way in hell am I using my hand.
“Someone is in here,” I say in a singsong voice.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The stall door shakes, metal against metal, and my heart stops. I look down to see the shoes that I thought were a woman’s just moments ago.
Boots.
Big black boots.
“Oh god,” I whisper and cover my mouth with a shaky hand.
“Jolie. Jolie. Jolie,” the familiar voice tsks. “Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”