Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(55)

He clenched his teeth. “This is my fault. This is all my fault. I should have kept you safe. I should never have let you go upstairs.”

I put my hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off.

*

Griffin came back into the waiting room. “She’s out of surgery, but she isn’t awake. They got the bullet out of her, and they repaired her lung. You can go back if you want.”

They only let two people in the room at a time, so Griffin and Christa had been in there. I shook my head. “I don’t need to see her if she’s asleep. Unless you think Christa would want me there?”

Griffin nodded.

I patted him on the back and left the waiting room. To get into intensive care, I had to hit a button and be buzzed through by the nurse on duty. I did that and waited until the doors swung open. Then I walked down the hall to Beverly’s room.

Christa was standing next to the bed, her nose and eyes red. She was holding her mother’s hand. Beverly had tubes in her nose. She was sleeping with her mouth open, and—for some reason—she looked so frail lying there. Like I hadn’t realized how tiny she was before. How easily broken.

Christa looked up at me. “Hey.”

I put my arm around her. “She’s gonna make it. She’s strong.” But she didn’t look strong right now.

“You really think so?”

“Yes,” I said, putting more confidence into my tone than I actually felt.

She laid her head on my shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here, Leigh.”

I held onto her as tightly as I could.

*

Christa didn’t want to leave her mom, so I ended up going back to find Griffin on my own. He was still in the waiting room, but he was clutching his phone and pacing.

Oh God. Had Marcel called him again?

He saw me come in. He turned away. “Fuck you,” he whispered to the phone. And then he ripped it away from his ear.

I went to him, putting my hand on his back. “Griffin? Was that Marcel?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice strangled. “He was taunting me. He says I can’t watch everyone, and that I can’t keep everyone safe. He’s right.”

“We need to call the twins,” I said.

“How will that help anything?” said Griffin. “We don’t know where Marcel is. They’d only be two more walking targets. And they don’t deserve to be hurt anymore because of me.”

“They might have ideas on how to help. We can’t do this on our own.”

Griffin threw himself down in one of the waiting room chairs. “No.”

“We have to do something.”

He closed his eyes. “How’s my mother?”

I sighed. I sat down next to him. “The same.”

He rubbed the top of his head. “This is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” I said. “It’s Marcel’s fault. He’s doing this, not you.”

“And Christa?”

“She’ll be okay. She didn’t want to leave in case your mom woke up, and there’s a chair for her in there, so I thought it was okay if she stayed.”

He nodded. “Well, that’s all right, then.”

I took his hand. “It’s going to be all right. It isn’t yet, but it will be.”

“How can you say that? Everything is f*cked right now.”

I shrugged. “It’s, um, what you have to say to yourself when things get this bad. Because thinking too much about it going the other way only makes it worse, and it’s bad enough without that.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Never would have pinned you as an optimist, doll.”

“Glad I can still surprise you.” I kissed his cheek, his jawbone.

“Speaking of surprises,” he said, “you didn’t take the pregnancy test.”

“Well, it’s hardly the time to do it.”

“I need to know,” he said. “Don’t you want to know?”

“Well, yeah, but with your mother still recovering, and—”

“Doll, it’s important,” he said. “Where is it?”

I thought about it. “I guess it’s still in the car.” Another realization dawned. “Oh God, I guess half of the groceries we bought are ruined.”

He got up. “I’ll go get the test.”

“What’s the rush, Griffin?”

“I need to know,” he said, and he was gone.

I sat alone in the waiting room. I’d been alone before when he and Christa had been with his mother. I’d paged through most of the magazines in here already. I picked one up again half-heartedly. The front cover said that I could lose stubborn belly fat with simple exercises. I threw the magazine aside.

If I was pregnant, I was going to get really huge. And no exercising would stop it. My body would never be the same.

I knew it was wrong to worry or to care about that, but it scared me. I was frightened of the idea of morphing into something else. I didn’t remember my own mother, not really. Whenever I’d seen pregnant women as a small child, they’d always seemed somewhat monstrous and alien. I was afraid of becoming that.

I didn’t want to voice those fears to Griffin, though. I was afraid he would be disgusted by them.