Fleeting Moments(13)

Am I still enough to give him what he deserves?

Do I even want to?

That thought terrifies me, and I walk away from the bed and into the bathroom to have a shower. It’s the only time I can be alone; it’s the only time when no one can bother me and ask questions and flutter around trying to make things better. I know they’re only trying to help, but it’s not working. Nothing is. I feel so empty, so desperate, so damned alone.

And the one person who understands has disappeared as if he never existed. I just want to talk to him. I just want him to tell me it wasn’t all in my mind. I need to see him and just . . . know. But I wouldn’t even know where to start. I don’t know how to find him, I don’t know where he works—hell, I don’t even know if he lives around here.

Heath. Hunter.

What’s real?

I step into the shower and let the warm water run over me, trying to remember when he came into my hospital room. Did I imagine it? Was it the pain medication? I don’t even know if I’m losing my mind. Maybe I am imagining the whole thing. Perhaps Hunter, or Heath, never existed. Could a situation truly be so traumatic that it actually made you imagine something so momentous? He was so real to me.

I have to know if he exists; I just have to find my closure, and he’s the only way I can do that. I don’t know how I’m going to find what I need, but I will.

“Morning.”

I spin around to see Gerard walking in, shirtless, giving me a weary smile. He doesn’t deserve this. He loves me so much. I need to try and get my life back in order. I need to move on from this, even if it means keeping my search for my mystery man a secret. I have to, for him, for me, for everyone.

“Morning.” I smile. It’s hard and my lips protest, but I keep it planted on my face.

And I watch his face relax, relief flooding his beautiful features. “I thought you’d never smile like that again.”

I scream inside.

I keep the smile.

It takes a few seconds before I can muster up a response. “I’m trying. It might take some time, but I’m working on getting better.”

He walks in a little farther, leaning against the towel railing and watching as I get out and dry myself.

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t honestly know. A little lost, very empty, confused. . .”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re not still confused about that man, are you?”

For a few minutes, I just wanted to try, and then he asks about the one thing I’m fighting against and all my effort just goes running out the door. My body goes into instant defense mode, my muscles tightening, my back going straight.

Gerard knows. The second he says it he knows, and his face pales a little. “Please don’t get upset,” he says quickly. “I just want you to move on, to help yourself.”

“I didn’t imagine him, Gerard,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m tired of you implying that I did. I’ll stop talking about it if it makes you happy, but you need to stop saying things like that.”

“I know you think you didn’t—”

Here we go again. The same fight over and over. “I don’t think,” I snap, losing my control. “I know.”

“You had a traumatic experience. The doctor said it can be normal to create things that aren’t real. I asked the police, everyone that I could, and nobody knows the man you’re talking about.”

“He was probably working a secret case or . . .” I trail off because the look on Gerard’s face makes me want to scream and cry at the same time. He looks worried, but mostly, he looks at me as if I’m losing my mind and I hate that. He has that expression more and more these days.

I’m not going crazy.

“I’m going to go back to bed and get some rest,” I mutter, brushing past him and walking into the room.

“I’m worried about you,” he says, slowly, turning and following me in. “I just don’t know how to help you.”

“You can help me by not saying he didn’t exist. I was there, Gerard. That man saved my life, and I’m going to find him and thank him.”

God dammit, why did I say that? I just vowed to myself to stop talking about it with Gerard.

He looks like he feels sorry for me. “Lucy . . .”

“Just get out,” I say. “I’m tired.”

“Lucy, please . . .”

I turn my back to him, pulling on a pair of cotton shorts and a top, then I climb into the bed. “Bye, Gerard.”

He sighs and stares at me for a few minutes, before saying softly, “I’ll be in the kitchen when you wake.”

Then he’s gone.

The second the door shuts I slide out of the bed and jerk the laptop out, opening it. I can’t move on until I know. I just can’t. It’s time I face it all, whether they like it or not. I open a search bar, and I type.

Baseball stadium hostage.

Then I read.

****~

I sit in the bedroom for three solid hours, pretending to be sleeping but devouring every article I can find. They’re saying it’s believed to be a religious group who came in because they were protesting against the city for not giving them the land. Apparently the stadium is on some sacred ground that they believe they need in order to carry out whatever sick things they’re planning. The group is called Heaven’s Temple.