Page 22 of What’s Left of Us (What Left #3)

The next time I get to breathe fresh air, it’s in a full restraint system, belly belt engaged, and back in the leg chains.

The doctor who did my initial surgery wanted me back within two to four weeks to be evaluated, but we’re closer to the four week mark now than I’d like.

I thought this issue would be fixed weeks ago.

My hip aches. I’m told it’s common to have ongoing pains, and this new septic arthritis could affect me for a long time. I had the infection too long before I got treatment that it could affect me for years.

“We’ll wheel you in,” the guard says, and I study her closely.

She’s not from CGP—female guards aren’t assigned there because of the nature of our crimes.

I’m not sure if she’s part of the transport team or with the hospital; no one clarified.

But when Preston traded places with her, it felt less like a routine shift and more like they were testing me.

I’m not going to kill her, but how do they know that? It’s a dumb risk to take, and if the third guy sitting in here has an opinion about it he hasn’t said. I heard Norbert call him Oswald, but he hasn’t said much of anything to me.

“I heard that Porscha snapped,” she goes on, lowering her voice. I glance at her, trying to figure out why we need to whisper. We’re sitting in the van, there’s another guard back here too but he’s been silent for most of the drive. There’s no reason to whisper now. “She cracked and the FBI-”

“Sylvia,” the other guard says, and I guess he is listening after all. “No chatting.”

“It passes the time,” I say, glancing between them. “I like gossip that isn’t about me.”

“Don’t,” he says again, and Sylvia sighs. There goes that idea.

At least the drive to Tallahassee is longer than the normal drive to the local, smaller hospital in Citrus Grove. I get more time out of the cell, and it’s a nice reprieve from the silence.

It’s also a little overwhelming. I have no idea if they will make this quick, how close to the room they can pull the transport van before I have to get out, nothing. They aren’t going to tell me things I could use to make a break for it.

Not that I physically can or even want to. Being on the run, even when it wasn't my fault, was hell. I don’t want the rest of my life to be like that. Even if it means life in a cage.

The one thing I can look forward to is seeing McKinney again. He supposedly spoke with the prison before my transport, and there’s nothing legally against seeing my council when I’m at the hospital. It’ll be brief, but he wanted to give me updates.

It’s something about Lance Wallsburg. Last I spoke to Tobias, he mentioned that the Captain was having difficulties.

He said he would keep me up to date, but now that I’m rotting in a cell again I’m really not sure what he expects to pin on me.

Lance can be pissed all he wants but it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t kill Kyle.

As out of it as I was, I remember his death.

Porscha showed zero remorse over it, and if anything Lance needs to get over himself and start focusing on her.

Staying mad at me doesn’t make sense; it just proves that he’s using me as an outlet for his anger and nothing more.

Looking around, I find myself missing Fake Porscha again. I know she’s a crutch, and it should be a good thing that I don’t see her anymore, right? If I don’t see her, maybe I’m mentally getting better.

I don’t really believe that, but it’s a nice thought.

The radio the guards are wearing buzzes, and the guy behind me speaks. “Sir?”

They all wear ear pieces that keep the conversation limited to the guards, meaning I hear nothing breathing while they listen.

“Roger that,” the other guard finally says, and I try to glance back at him to see his expression. He’s glaring down at something and I can’t get a read on him, so I just give up. It won’t make a difference anyway. I have no control over this visit, I’m just here to let the Doc do his thing.

By the time we reach the hospital in Tallahassee my hip is stiff and painful.

I’d give anything to stretch out my legs but the damn leg bar is in the way.

I don’t even protest when they shuffle me out of the transport van and into a wheelchair, locking the wrist restraints to the arms and cuffing the leg bar to the footrest. It’s overkill if you ask me, since I physically can’t run.

“We’re going to see Dr. Schultz,” Sylvia says as they roll me through the doors. Since my surgeon works in the ER, we’re meeting down here, and I’ll be directed to a room immediately so I’m less of an issue to any other patients.

Norbert stands in front of us and the other guard goes behind us. When Norbert flashes his badge at security the officers wave him through, and the three of us follow without going through the security line.

We pass reception, and two individuals catch my attention. I don't know what they are doing here, but they kinda look like they just rolled out of bed when they look up to watch me pass.

Something looks wrong with Vinny's hand. There's blood, but he doesn't look to be in pain when I catch his gaze. It's hard to believe that if he's injured, they drove all the way from Citrus Grove to Tallahassee to have him looked at. There's a hospital in town, albeit smaller.

Jo on the other hand looks like tired but like she tried to put herself together, her hair pulled into messy pigtails that contain her wild locks.

Her eyes are sharp as she looks up at me.

They don't say a word, probably taking the whole scene in, but I can't just let the moment pass. “Hello again, lovebirds.”

Norbert spins around at my voice and Sylvia nearly clips his ankles with the wheelchair. I don’t tear my eyes away from them though, watching Vinny give me a subtle nod and Jo a soft, sad smile.

“No talking to anyone,” Norbert snaps, and I look to find him glaring at me. “They shouldn't be here.”

He gestures for Sylvia to keep moving, and I look back to my lovebirds as we move on. Jo tenses and Vinny touches her hand, but they don’t follow me. They wouldn’t be able to anyway, but I understand the pull to do so. I’d prefer to stay with them too.

As we cross through a set of big double doors I lose sight of them, and a heaviness settles into my heart. It was too brief, too short, and I had no way to talk to them and try to explain anything. Some things are not better left unsaid, and I would do anything for five minutes alone with them.

“Hello, Mr. Constantine,” a man says as we reach him, and my wheelchair just keeps moving as he keeps pace with us.

He looks like a nurse, and he doesn’t waste time with any more pleasantries before turning on his heel and heading down the hall.

“We have Mr. McKinney back here already. Dr. Schultz is a little behind right now so you should be able to chat for a bit before he gets to you.”

I don't comment, watching the rooms as we pass. The little rush from seeing Jo and Vinny is already washing off. Nothing else will compare to seeing them today.

“Here we go,” the nurse says, opening the door to a room. McKinney is in there, studying something on his phone, and he pockets it before standing.

“Constantine,” he says, grinning. I think this is the first time I've seen a real grin from him. “We have so much to talk about before the doctor gets here.”

After talking with McKinney and Dr. Schultz, I feel lighter than I have in weeks. Lighter than I did even at the cabin, when it felt like a new goodbye. Maybe seeing Jo and Vinny did give me a little extra endorphin boost, because even my good news can’t top me seeing the two of them again.

It's scary, but at the moment, I have hope. Like the universe is finally going to give me a break.

“Let's get back,” Norbert says, and I try to not be disappointed that I didn't see Jo or Vinny as we were leaving.

Even Sterling is MIA, but there's no specific reason I can think of that he would be here.

As Sylvia pushes me out of the room, and Oswald flanks us from behind, I try to let some of those disappointments go.

Seeing my lovebirds will be enough for now.

I let my mind wander until I spot Jo and Vinny again. They are talking to a nurse at the end of the hall, white bandages wrapped around part of Vinny's palm. Just like last time, he seems calm.

I fight back a smile. It's like an extra gift from the universe.

As I focus on them, a new voice catches my attention. “I'm serious, if OT isn't an option within the next week, you have to go back to Quantico. I can't believe Pabst hasn't forced you to go back yet.”

We pass one of the beds and I turn enough to catch sight Sterling. He spots me in the middle of saying something to Gabe but cuts off as I roll by, and I know he didn't end up here by chance.

When my gaze moves back to my lovebirds, they’re watching me and ignoring the nurse. I can almost feel the burn of Sterling’s gaze behind me, and this is the closest the four of us have been in nearly a month.

So why does it feel like a fractured goodbye? I don’t think this will happen again.

I almost close my eyes and just enjoy the fact that we're all here together, until something catches my gaze. Blond hair, cold green eyes… and she walks beside me like a demon.

“Welcome back, “ Fake Porscha says, but even this can't ruin my good mood. Maybe loving more than one person at once makes me insane, but if this is my punishment for listening to my heart I'll take it. Seeing her here makes me feel a little less lonely as we head back to transport.

We're nearing the end of the hall and I know our exit comes before the area where Jo and Vinny stand. In mere seconds, my happiness will be gone.

A person rounds the corner before we reach the exit, and I say his name without meaning to. “Wallsburg.”

He keeps moving, and then his hand is at his side. Lance’s eyes are red and he looks like shit, and I’m not sure he even acknowledged that I spoke.

His gun is in his hand before I can process it. “Forgive me.”

The two quick shots that follow pop my ears, and he's only a few steps away from me. My ears are still ringing when slicing pain explodes across my chest in different spots.

He shot me.

The force shoves my wheelchair backward, and I hear Sylvia grunting behind me.

As I try to process what's happening, I realize everything seems to be moving in slow motion. I can’t keep up with what's happening. Chaos is breaking out around me, and I’m still processing the fact that Lance Wallsburg shot me.

Twice? Was it twice?

It sounds like there's screaming around me, but all I can focus on is the ringing in my ears and the pain in my chest. Behind Wallsburg’s shoulder I see Jo and Vinny again, and it makes my heart ache despite the pain.

Jo is struggling against Vinny, his arm wrapped tightly around her to keep her from running to me.

I’m relieved he’s holding her back—she doesn’t deserve to get hurt.

But there are tears streaming down her face, and I think she’s screaming.

She looks utterly shattered. Vinny doesn’t look much better.

Then Wallsburg moves, and I lose sight of them. He turns and aims at someone else, and then his body goes rigid. The noise makes me think my ears might be bleeding.

Suddenly I'm falling to the side, and I can't stop myself between the cuffs and the chair. I slam into the floor, my head bouncing off the tile, and pain blooms behind my eyes.

There's way too much chatter. I can't focus on what anyone is saying.

Hands are on me and I can't push them off. My chest is too heavy, and it hurts more now than it ever has. Two palms press to my cheeks and I can feel someone pulling at my restraints. I want to tell them it isn’t going to work but I can’t form the words.

Then I'm looking up, and brown eyes meet mine.

Sterling .

His eyes are wild, and he looks away from me, his mouth moving. His touch is gentle on my skin, and it's funny to think this is one of the only times he's ever touched me. We didn't touch much in the cabin.

Cabin… take me back to then. Away from this.

My thoughts wander, and Sterling is forced away. The next face I don't recognize so I don't even focus on it.

Staring up, I should see the ceiling. But there's Fake Porscha again, leaning over me, even as I feel the restraints fall away. She’s been missing for weeks and suddenly she’s a constant presence, never far away from me.

I'm being lifted, and still she's above me. She didn't go away. My body's going numb, and I'm not sure what's happening anymore.

My head falls to one side, and she's still there. Fake Porscha studies me, and suddenly her hair seems to get longer. It's more of a strawberry blonde now. And her familiar icy green eyes turn hypnotic blue.

I’m dying. Am I dying or just losing my mind finally?

Minus the scars and the dimple piercings, the face starting back at me now is Jo. Joelle. The girl I fell in love with in high school.

It doesn’t make sense that she is standing here, a version of my past looking down at me while I know the real Jo is somewhere in this hospital panicking.

But the illusion’s eyes are soft, kind, and they have the same draw that real Jo’s did the first time I met her.

Like she had decided she liked me, and refused to let go.

There's an endless droning noise in the back of my head that I can't escape. So when High School Jo holds out her hand to me, giving me a real smile, I reach out and take it.