Every hour that I wished would pass was an hour that he fought for his life.
A fight he would lose.
I stood at the window in a hallway, my head pressed to the glass, needing something cool against my forehead. My headache pounded in my temples because of all the crying, and I bought some painkillers from the gift shop. The cashier couldn’t take her eyes off me because I was an emotional mess, but she didn’t ask any questions. Now I stood there and looked at the sunshine outside the window, the buildings of Paris as the backdrop.
“Melanie?” Raven’s gentle voice came from beside me.
With my hand pressed to the glass, I looked at her, feeling nothing for her right now. My ring was on my hand, and whether he lived or died, I couldn’t imagine ever taking it off.
Her eyes showed her pain, how much my despair affected her. “I said that out of anger. I would never wish for this…wish for you to go through this.”
I looked out the window again.
She stood there with me for a while.
“I just want to be by myself, Raven.” My voice was lifeless, like it rose from a corpse.
“I understand. I just wanted you to know—” She cleared her throat.
I turned back to her.
“Magnus told me that the reason Fender is here is because…he saved Magnus’s life.”
My eyes watered for the millionth time.
“If Fender hadn’t gotten there, Magnus wouldn’t be here right now.”
Tears dripped down my cheeks. “I asked him to stay for me. He wouldn’t. He said he had to protect his brother…”
Raven’s eyes watered too.
“He loves his brother so much…”
“I know he does,” she whispered. “It’s the way I love you.”
I sniffled.
“Maybe Fender and I are more alike than I realized…”
Magnus found me in the hallway. “Melanie?”
I turned to him quickly, hoping for news, good news.
“I just talked to the doctor—”
“Oh god…” I dug my fingers into my hair on either side of my skull and prepared for another mental breakdown.
“Melanie, he’s stable.”
“What…?” My hands lowered then moved to my mouth.
He gave a slight smile. “He pulled through.”
My palms covered my face entirely, and a new round of sobs hit me. “Oh my god…” I cried for a bit before I dropped my hands.
Magnus held out a tissue.
I took it, touched by the gesture, and cleaned myself up.
“The doctor said we can see him.” His eyes softened as he looked at me. “But I thought you should go first…” Every look he’d given me before had been a bit cold, like he didn’t care for my existence. But now, he looked at me differently, the way he looked at Fender sometimes.
“Thank you.” I darted around him and headed to reception.
“Melanie?”
I turned back around.
“It’ll be nice to have a sister again.”
I stepped into the private room with large windows along one side.
His big mass was in the bed, wires everywhere, wearing a blue gown rather than being shirtless like usual.
I slowly crept to the bed, unsure if he was awake, unsure if he was coherent at all. When I stood over him, I saw that his eyes were closed. The monitor beside him beeped. His blood pressure cuff squeezed his arm.
My hand went to his wrist, feeling that strong pulse.
My eyes closed, and the tears dripped.
“Chérie.” His voice was raspy and gruff, his throat dry from the breathing tube that had been placed there during surgery.
My eyes remained closed, and I broke into sobs, afraid I would never hear that deep voice again.
His voice became stronger, but also turned gentler. “Chérie.”
It was too much. I couldn’t do it.
“Chérie. Look at me.”
When my eyes opened, the tears that had been held back by my lids came spilling down. I locked my gaze with his, seeing dark eyes that were tired and a bit bloodshot, but still intense as always.
His hand gave me a tug. “Come here.”
I got into bed beside him, cuddling with him just like I did at home, but keeping my arm over his chest rather than his stomach.
His arm circled me, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
Beside him, I cried.
“It’s over, chérie. It’s over.”
Twenty-Eight
Retirement
Fender
I stayed in the hospital for a week.
Melanie rarely left my side.
She would go back to the palace to shower and change, but then she would stay with me until the next morning. Visitors weren’t allowed, but some cash was enough to change that policy.
Even days later, Melanie was still an emotional mess.
It didn’t matter that I was still here, that the doctor said the wound was closing nicely—it wasn’t enough to erase the trauma.
Gilbert brought us lunch, so she sat beside me in the chair and ate while I remained in the bed.
Having to stay in bed for a week was ludicrous, but I didn’t try to get discharged early because that would get Melanie worked up. She was obviously more comfortable having medical help at the press of a button.