Page 37

Chapter thirty-seven

Patrick

“I know she said she couldn’t find me. But I think it was Elliot. I think he found her. Tried to make her leave. That’s what this is. That’s what had to be happening.”

I turn. Take four more steps.

“Or maybe… maybe it was one of the nurses. Someone told her to run. Told her to get away from me.”

I drag a hand through my hair.

“I can’t let her leave,” I whisper. “She can’t go. She needs to stay. She has to stay.”

My voice catches on the words like they’re too big to hold in.

“The babies… the babies… Levana…” I press my hands to my chest, trying to stave off the trembling. “They need you. I need you.”

“Patrick, calm down,” Mara says.

I cross the nursery, walking to the girls’ crib. My hands hover over the edge before I brush over the soft curve of Mally’s skull.

“I can’t,” my throat squeezes. “Mara, I can’t have any more of my babies taken away from me. I can’t do it again.”

“You won’t,” she says simply.

“She almost left. I was right there. If I’d have just been five seconds later, she would’ve—”

“Is she even trying to fix Alexander anymore?” She says, cutting me off.

“I think she has it,” I whisper as I look down at the tiny bones beneath my hands. “I think she’s figured it out.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m scared,” I admit. “I’m so fucking scared she’s going to leave when we do it. That she’ll walk out and never come back. And then Alexander will never be fixed. He’ll be stuck. Forever.”

“Patrick. Stop. Sit with me.”

I lower myself slowly to the floor beside her and rest my back against the wall.

“Show me those babies,” Mara murmurs.

I nod and pull out one of the copies from my pocket. It’s a little creased from where I’ve been checking and re-checking it all damn day, but it’s still perfect.

“Look at them,” I whisper. “One of each. A boy and a girl.”

I run the edge of my thumb along the blurred, tiny, black and white shapes, the flickers of light frozen in motion.

She rests her head on my shoulder and we sit in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you really think she’s going to leave?” She asks.

“I don’t know, Mara.” I say, staring at the pale yellow walls.

She hums lightly. “Why don’t you just make it so she can’t?”

My brow furrows. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well… why don’t you keep her like me? We can share this room together. All of us. You, me, Alex, all the babies, her. Forever. And then there’ll be nothing to worry about.”

“Are you insane?” I whisper.

“No,” she says, not even flinching. “I’m not insane. I’m right . You just need to push her into finishing the plan with Alexander.”

“And then?”

“Then you stop things in their tracks,” she says. “She’ll give birth to the babies the same way I gave birth to the girls, and everything will be fine. Safe. No risk of her running. No danger of her ever leaving you.”

Maybe…

No more fear. Just peace. Just family.

She’d be safe. The babies would be safe.

With me. Where they belong.

I close my eyes.

No more openings into our life. No more threats. No more Elliot.

Just us. Just like it was supposed to be.

But how would I do that?

Would I have to do it myself? I’ve never hurt someone before. I don’t think I could start with Levana…

No. My beautiful girl. Hurt. Because of me. Absolutely not.

“No,” I snap. “What the fuck, Mara? What’s your problem?”

She just tilts her head and smiles at me.

“You’re not my Mara anymore.”

“Patrick, come on now—“

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t talk to me like I’m the one who has something wrong with them,” my voice rises, thick with panic. “You’re a good person. You love people. This… this isn’t my wife.”

“I am your wife,” she says firmly. “The one who never left. The one who understands you.”

“My wife would never suggest something like that.”

“Well, Patrick, maybe that’s because I give a shit. And if you aren’t brave enough to make our family whole, then maybe I’ll fucking do it myself.”

“No you damn well won’t.” I shout, pushing myself up from the floor. “You don’t go near her. You don’t ever go near her again. You hear me?”

Before she can answer, I storm out and slam the door behind me, hard enough to rattle the frame.

Mara’s laugh drifts through the wood.

She’s laughing. She’s fucking laughing.

I slide to the floor, and pull at my hair, fists clenching in it until my scalp burns.

“Stop,” I say as my body starts to rock involuntarily. “Stop, stop—just stop.”

No. No, I can’t hurt Levana. I’d never hurt Levana.

She won’t stop laughing.

My hands clamp over my ears.

Elliot’s a threat. Mara’s a threat. The nurses, the world, everything. It’s all trying to take her from me.

The back of my skull knocks gently against the wood behind me. Once. Twice.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” I whisper.

Gentle fingers try to pull my hands down from my the sides of my head.

“Patrick?”

Levana’s kneeling in front of me, eyes wide and worried.

“What’s going on?” she asks softly, her hands on mine. “Patrick, talk to me.”

But I can’t.

I can’t.

“Get away from this door!” I shout, ripping my hands free from her grip. “Get away from it now!”

She jerks to her feet and backs away like I’m some wild animal she’s not sure will bite.

“Move,” I bark. “Get away. Move now.”

The way she flinches guts me, but I can’t stop.

“Bedroom,” I say, pointing. “Go. Just go.”

I wait until she’s in the bedroom before I push to my feet and follow her.

She’s standing pressed against the window, eyes wide, chest rising in shallow bursts.

“Patrick,” she says. “What’s going on?”

The door clicks shut behind me and I try to soften my voice but it comes out shaky and wrong. “Mara’s lost her damn mind. I don’t know what’s come over her, but you need to stay the hell away from her. I know you’re friends now, and you’ve been spending so much time together, but she’s not safe, Levana.”

I glance toward the window behind her, the way her back’s half-pressed to the glass. “And can you—can you step away from there? Please? It’s not safe either, someone could—”

She doesn’t move and my heart rate spikes too high.

“Now.” I say, trying to keep the panic from creeping into my voice. “Please, Levana. Just… just come away from there.”

She still doesn’t move, just watches me. So I take a step toward her, and she flinches, arms snapping up, hands covering her belly in a flash like she’s protecting them from me. Like I’m dangerous.

“Baby,” I breathe. “You don’t have to be scared of me, okay?”

I hold my hands up, trying to show that I’m not a threat. “I’d never hurt you. Never.”

She doesn’t speak, just clutches her stomach tighter, like the curve of her arms is the only shield she has left.

“Baby, please,” I whisper as I step forward slowly, keeping my hands raised. “I swear, I just want to protect you. That’s all I want. I’m not the enemy here. She is. Everyone out there is. But I won’t let them hurt you. Or take you. I mean it.”

I take another step, she doesn’t move, but her eyes stay locked onto mine.

My hands settle gently on her arms. She locks up, but she doesn’t flinch.

My heart’s pounding so damn loud as I lower one hand, inch by inch until it rests over her hands where they lay on her belly, right where our babies are.

“I promise,” I reiterate, voice shaking a little. “I won’t let anyone take you away. Or the babies. Not ever. I swear to you, okay?”

She takes a sharp breath, and nods.

Fuck. It’s everything. It’s oxygen. It’s every cell turning into hope.

“Good girl,” I say on a breath. “Good girl. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s sit, okay?”

She doesn’t answer, but she lets me guide her to the bed and ease her down onto the edge of it before I double back and yank the curtains shut, engulfing the room in shadow and silence.

That’s better.

My knees hit the carpet in front of her, and my hands meet her thighs. She tenses under my touch, and her breath catches, but she still doesn’t back away.

That’s a good sign.

I shouted, I scared her in the hallway, she thought I ran from her in the hospital, or maybe someone tried to coerce her, but she knows I’m not the bad guy.

“It’s just me,” I whisper. “I want to see them.”

I lift the fabric of her shirt as slow as I can, just enough to see her bump, and my lips meet the skin that’s stretched round and smooth over the lives inside her.

She’s warm under my lips. She doesn’t smell like Levana anymore, she doesn’t smell like chemicals or burnt matches or rain and dry leaves. She smells like me— my soap, my shampoo, my house. But that’s okay, because she still tastes like Levana, feels like Levana.

“Hi, babies. It’s Daddy.”

My hand comes up to rest over them, fingers spread wide across her belly like I can cradle both at once.

“You two gave us a scare today,” I murmur. “But it’s okay. You’re okay. Mommy’s okay.”

I lean forward and kiss the left side. “That’s you.”

Then the right. “And that’s you.”

My mouth lingers there for a second longer, soaking myself into them.

“I don’t know which of you is who yet,” I go on, smiling into her skin. “But I will. I promise. I’ll know everything, and I’ll love every inch of you.”

The faintest little thump ripples into my palm and my heart trips over itself.

“Did you feel that?” I breathe. “Oh my god, of course you felt it, but baby, I felt it.”

My hand stays pressed to her belly, like I might catch it again if I’m still enough.

Another soft kick, a tiny knock against my skin, like one of them is answering me.

“I wonder which one it is,” I murmur, smiling up at her. “Boy or girl? You already trying to get my attention, huh?”

I press another kiss to her and sink my forehead against the skin, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re never going to feel cold,” I promise them. “Never going to be scared. I’m going to read to you, and sing, and put your cribs together, and you’re going to have everything you need. You’re already so loved. You know that, right? You’re my whole world.”

I close my eyes. Breathe them all in. Bask in the love shared between the four of us.

“And I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”