Page 41

Chapter Forty

Ronan

A few months later…

The sterile smell of the hospital room had become a permanent fixture in my senses. I’d grown used to the faint hum of machines, the swish of nurses’ shoes, and the incessant beeping that never stopped. But today, the sounds felt different. Less suffocating. Less all-consuming. Today, I was walking out of here. But I was walking out of here alone.

I sat up slowly, the weight of the burns on my body still a constant reminder of the battle I’d fought—of the fire, of the pain, of losing him. My skin was tender, stretched tight over the damaged flesh, but it had begun to heal.

It had taken months. Long months spent in bed, drifting in and out of feverish dreams, haunted by visions of that night. Of what I’d tried to do and failed to stop. Of Jack.

But there was one image that always came back clearer than the rest. Elias’s face. His voice. His touch. The moment I’d let him slip away. I thought it would break me in ways I couldn’t survive, and in some ways, it had.

But I was still here.

I was still breathing.

If only in corporeal form.

The nurse came in to check on me, her smile warm but weary as she helped me gather my things.

“You’re free to go, Ronan,” she said softly, her voice carrying a sense of finality. “Your wounds are healing well. We’ll continue monitoring your progress for a while, but you’re strong. I can tell.”

I nodded absently, my hands shaking slightly as I grabbed my bag. But the numbness I’d been carrying for months felt like it was shifting, and the weight of what I was walking back to hit me all at once.

I wasn’t going home to the same life. I wasn’t going home to Elias.

I hadn’t been able to face it until now. The thought of never hearing his voice again, of never feeling his hands on me or his lips against mine, was torture.

The weight of that finality had been too much for me to carry, but now that I was walking out of this hospital, it hit me like a wave. It was real. He was gone.

I had no more chances to say goodbye.

I couldn’t save him.

My chest tightened as I stood, taking a shaky step toward the door and leaning against the wall for support. The freedom of finally leaving the hospital was like a strange, cruel joke. What was freedom if it meant walking back into a world where Elias was no longer there?

I’d spent so much time thinking about the pain—the pain of what I’d survived, the scars, the ache in my body. But the deeper wound, the one I hadn’t been able to fix, was the hole in my heart where Elias used to be.

My soul was untethered. Just a weightless ghost unable to find the anchor that was no longer here.

The nurse helped me to the exit, and I barely registered the door closing behind me, the crisp air hitting my skin, or the sound of the car engine as I was driven away. I felt as if I was floating, detached from the world around me.

I kept thinking back to those days in the hospital when I would wake up confused and disoriented, and the first thing I’d ask was Where is Elias?

But I knew now like I knew then. He wasn’t coming back.

He was gone.

And I was left with nothing but the hollow echo of his absence.

The car ride felt endless. I watched the streets blur past me, the city moving like a silent film. But it was all muted, distant. The weight of it—losing him—was unbearable, yet somehow, I had to bear it.

When the car pulled up to the apartment, I didn’t get out right away. I just sat there for a long time, staring at the door. I wanted to believe I could go inside and somehow find a piece of Elias in there, something that would make him real again. I’d never thought this would happen—never thought I’d be standing here, having to face the reality that the one person who truly understood me was gone.

I couldn’t accept it. I needed more time. I needed to thank him for staying when everything felt like it was falling apart.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them back. I couldn’t let myself succumb to the despair, not yet. Not when the world felt like it was crumbling around me.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, I opened the door, stepped out of the car, and walked up to the apartment. Every step felt like I was walking into a memory I couldn’t escape. I barely recognized Travis’s silhouette, but in my heart, I was alone.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, gripping the frame, the weight of the space around me pressing in. It felt so empty. The silence in here was suffocating, too heavy to breathe through.

Elias’s laughter had once filled this place. His moans, his love. His scent lingered on the pillow where he had slept beside me the one fucking time I was able to hold him in my arms. A pair of his shoes were kicked off haphazardly by the door.

His presence lingered in every corner. All the memories stationed at every crevice of these rooms felt suffocating.

But now there was nothing. Nothing but the reminder that he was never coming back.

I walked into the living room, my legs shaky, and stood in the middle of it, looking around. I wanted to feel him, to believe that he wasn’t really gone, that somehow he was still a part of me. But the truth was undeniable.

The reality hit me like a punch to the gut.

Elias was gone. And no matter how many times I closed my eyes and wished for him to be standing next to me, his warm smile lighting up the room, he would never be there again.

I sank onto the couch, feeling the world’s weight pressing down on me. I couldn’t stop shaking. Travis stood in the doorway, giving me the space I needed at that moment. I couldn’t stop the tears that finally came falling down my face as I whispered his name in the silence of the apartment.

“Elias…I’m so sorry.”

But of course, there was no answer.

I sat there for what felt like hours, the empty apartment echoing with a quiet that pressed down on me, heavier than the weight of my grief. The pain in my chest had been building for months, but now that I was here, in the place where we’d once been so alive together, it felt like the entire world had collapsed around my shattered heart.

The tears wouldn’t stop, though I hated the weakness they represented. I didn’t want to be this person, the one who was falling apart in the silence of an apartment, the one who couldn’t fix things.

But it hurt so damn much .

And no matter how hard I tried to keep it together, I couldn’t.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to gather myself and make sense of the mess I felt inside. Every corner of this place reminded me of him—his touch on the walls, his laugh that had once bounced off the windows, his presence in everything I did.

I picked up a framed photo from the side table. It was a picture of us, Elias and me, taken one of the last nights we’d spent together before everything spiraled. We were laughing, wrapped in each other’s arms, completely unaware of how fleeting that moment would be.

My fingers traced the edges of the frame, and I exhaled slowly, fighting the lump in my throat.

I should’ve done more .

I should have tried harder. Should’ve called for help, should have demanded Jack call a damn ambulance. I had options I didn’t know back then, so many ways I could have saved him, but I never found them when it mattered. Just like the hammer lost in the fire and smoke, they were lost…and now it was too late.

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips, but it was hollow, broken. I set the photo down carefully and stood up. The apartment felt suffocating like it was closing in around me. My legs carried me aimlessly toward the kitchen, but I couldn’t even bring myself to make a cup of coffee. Everything felt pointless now.

I opened the fridge, staring at the contents, but it was all just…background noise. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything felt like a blur as if I was moving through a world that no longer made sense.

My eyes landed on the damn bowls that Elias and I had shared pasta in one night, sitting in the back of the cabinet like some sort of forgotten promise.

I closed the door quickly, shaking my head. Instead, I opened the fridge and found a bottle of whiskey.

I wasn’t going to do that. Not now.

I needed to remember Elias for the good things—his kindness, his love, the warmth of his touch. I didn’t want to lose my memories by sobbing in a fucking bowl or drinking away the pain.

I couldn’t.

Not when it was the only thing I wanted to do, the only thing left that made sense in a world that had completely fallen apart. I knew he wouldn’t want me to do that.

“You win.” I said sadly, closing the refrigerator and stepping back from the temptation inside.

I walked back into the living room, then out to the small balcony shared between many of the apartments here, hoping the fresh air would clear the fog in my head.

It didn’t help. It just made me realize how far from heaven I truly was.

The streets below were alive with the usual bustle of Las Vegas, a world full of people who had no idea that someone like Elias was gone. There was nothing here to remind them of him, nothing to hold on to but my memory of him, and that felt so damn lonely. I couldn’t go back to that fucking trailer, but I knew I couldn’t stay here either.

Nothing felt right.

I am lost.

I leaned against the railing, my head in my hands, feeling the emptiness settle deep into my bones. I didn’t know what to do next. Didn’t know how to move forward without him.

A few minutes passed, but it felt like an eternity before I could bring myself to look up at the horizon.

The sun was just beginning to dip behind the mountains, painting the sky with colors of red and purple. It should’ve been a beautiful sight, but to me, it only served as a reminder of everything that was lost.

The bright future I thought we’d have together was gone. Like the story of lovers of the sun and moon. Madly in love but fated to be apart.

I let out a deep breath, my body trembling as I stood up straight. Then, I heard the faint sound of a car pulling up outside. The noise barely registered in my mind, but after a second, it became clear. Someone was here.

I turned back toward the door, wiping my eyes quickly as I tried to gather myself. Whoever it was, they didn’t deserve to see me like this. But I froze as the door creaked open, and I heard the familiar voice call my name.

“Ronan?”

It was Travis. My hand gripped the railing harder, and I took a shaky breath.

“Travis,” I murmured, turning slowly toward the door, my heart sinking deeper.

I had ignored him when he brought me here earlier.

I couldn’t speak.

My words were a broken whisper even now. He had left some point in the day, but just like ‘Hello,’ there was no ‘goodbye.’ I felt bad for my negligence toward my friend.

He walked in, his face soft with concern.

“Hey, man…I—I know it’s been a rough day, but you just got outta’ the hospital for all those burns. I thought I’d check on you. You okay?”

Okay? According to the hospital, I would survive. But I was anything but okay.

I nodded, offering him a weak smile, though I could feel the tears still lingering in my eyes.

“I’m fine. Just…adjusting, I guess.”

He didn’t buy it. Travis always saw through me, and this time was no different. He stepped closer, his eyes soft, understanding. All the usual jibes and humor were gone, replaced with a kindness he reserved for those he saw as fragile, women and children. Weak people. And now me.

“You’re not fine, Ronan. You’ve been through hell, and I’m not goin’ to pretend I understand what that feels like. But I’m here for you, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

The lump in my throat grew, and I felt like I might choke on it. I swallowed hard, those same words echoing in my broken heart from Elias’s beautiful voice.

“I don’t know how to do this without him,” I whispered, the weight of those words threatening to pull me under. “Elias is really gone, Travis. I can’t…I failed him. I couldn’t even say goodbye. I was begging him to stay with me even as he was struggling to breathe. The amount of pain he must’ve gone through in the end. I failed him. I failed us.”

Travis didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around me in a hug I wasn’t sure I was ready for but needed nonetheless. It wasn’t romantic. There was no underlying tone to the embrace, just a friend who knew I couldn’t hold myself up on my feet.

“You didn’t fail that boy,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You did your fucking best. And you’ll find a way to keep goin’, Ronan. One day at a time. But don’t do it alone. Let people in. You don’t have to carry all of this on your own.”

I closed my eyes, letting the tears finally come, my body trembling as the weight of everything hit me all at once. Elias was gone. I knew he wouldn’t want me to wallow like this, to give up. He would want me to figure out how to live without him, with the memory of his love still etched into my soul.

I didn’t know if I could.

Without Elias…there was no me.

For now, I was just trying to survive.

“I just wish I could’ve said goodbye to him,” I said, the tears falling off my nose when I leaned over the balcony. “I was stuck in the fucking hospital for his funeral. I was shown a video of the service on my phone, but out of all the people who loved him, I couldn’t be there. I couldn’t get my closure.”

Travis looked thoughtful for a moment and then lightly punched my arm.

“Then c’mon.”

I furrowed my brow, unsure what he could possibly mean.

“We’re goin’ to get your closure. Your ‘goodbye’. You and your prayer boy deserve that, man. Least I can do.”

The words were meant as comfort. His offer was kind and genuine, so why did the tears flow faster?

I realized as I hugged my friend and accepted the gesture that I didn’t want to go.

I didn’t want to say goodbye to the man I loved.

I didn’t want to accept that this was real.

That he was gone.