Page 40 of Win You Over

Holden

T heo’s hand runs softly over the back of my head, his hold on me tight. But it does nothing to quell the silent sobs wracking my body.

“I’m sorry, Hold,” he apologises over and over, like this is his fault. He has nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one to blame. It was my knife, and I was the one too weak to stop Finn from hurting Remi. Once again, all the shit in my life is because of me .

Maybe being with someone as amazing as Remington – calling him mine, loving him – maybe that reality was never meant to be.

Theo shifts his weight beneath me, the old bed creaking with the movement.

“Do you want to eat something?” he asks and I shake my head.

“Holden, you need to at least drink some water. You’ll dehydrate with all these tears.” He rubs the pad of his thumb under my eye, collecting the wetness that I have become so numb to, I barely recognise it’s coming from me.

When he tries to slide out from under me, I tighten my hold around his waist, hoping my grip on him is enough to ask him not to leave. Not now. Not when my world is so fractured.

I don’t even care that everyone knows my darkest secret. I don’t care that they’ll look at me with pity or disgust, or a curious mix of the two. All I care about is that the man I love got hurt.

“I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

Ever since that day he decided he wanted me as his friend, Theo has been by my side.

No judgement, no pressure, just pure, unconditional friendship.

My chest aches when I think of another person who was equally as persistent to call me his friend.

Look what his persistence did. More tears roll down my cheeks, unbidden.

On top of the grief about Remi being hurt, there’s an undercurrent of guilt that I can’t shake.

I never even noticed the knife was missing, never bothered to check for it when we returned.

Somewhere between kissing Remi for the first time and watching horror movies in his bed, I stopped needing the comfort it brought, and if truth be told; I forgot all about it.

The thought hits me with a wave of sadness. Is this me forgetting my dad slowly? I shake my head. No. I would never forget him, but maybe I need him less the older and stronger I get. Which is okay. I like to think he’d understand and be proud of me.

There’s a knock on our door, snagging my attention away from my spiralling thoughts about my father. Seconds later, it opens and one of our housemates sticks his head in.

“Um, there’s a guy delivering two beds,” he says, pointing over his shoulder.

“Thanks, have him leave them in the lounge,” Theo answers. “I’ll sort them out later.”

I bury my face against his chest. He smells like the home I grew up loving. Like old books and riding bikes. Like cafeteria meals and Oreos. Like a friendship built out of love and respect.

And while he’s holding me together, he’s not the home I want to cling to. He’s not the person I want holding me.

That person, who feels more like a home than any other before, smells like citrus and sunscreen. Like the sea and marker pens and honey. He is warmth and comfort and a million and one amazing things all rolled into the cocky, sweet man that stole my heart.

It’s been two days since Remi was stabbed.

Two very long, very tiring days. His family arrived within twenty-four hours of it happening, his sister cutting her honeymoon short.

Because I’m not listed as his next of kin, I spent that time pacing, burning a hole in the waiting room floor.

My mind concocting a list of all the things that could have gone wrong.

Everything about that night is a blur. From the time Remi hit the ground to my panicked plea for him to be okay, to the rush of the paramedics when they entered the house and carried him out.

I stayed with Theo, looking down at the blood staining my hands, until he had to physically drag me out of the house.

I don’t know what happened to Finn. I don’t know if he regrets what he did or if he wishes it had been me. I wish it was me.

My phone rings and I blink my bleary eyes. Theo picks it up and holds it in front of my face.

Nadine : He’s asking for you.

I let out a breath and take the phone from Theo.

Me: Can I see him? Is that okay with you?

I’m afraid she’ll say no. Afraid they’ll blame me for all of this, but her reply has more tears welling in my already swollen eyes.

Nadine: We all want you here, Holden.

Showing the message to Theo, I roll over and climb off the bed. Stretching and sniffing my underarms. I reek. A combination of sadness and stale sweat.

“I didn’t want to upset you even more, but you seriously stink, my friend,” Theo pipes up, and for the first time in days, something resembling a smile twists up my lips.

“You shower and head over to the hospital and I will sort out the bed situation. I can’t believe the fucker actually bought them.”

He shakes his head with amusement as he opens the door and heads out of the room.

The last time I was in a hospital was before we left the UK, in the aftermath of that incident. This hospital is nothing like the one from my childhood. For one, Remi’s room is private, and the bed he’s in looks more like a hotel bed than what you’d expect to see in a medical suite.

His father and sister are sitting in a semi-circle around his bed, Nadine holding his hand as she talks quietly to him.

“Holden,” Nadine says when I walk in, getting up from her seat and wrapping me in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

She takes my cheeks in both her hands, looking into my eyes. She must see the fractured parts of me, with how deeply she stares.

“He’s okay.” She nods and I respond with a quick shift of my head.

“Baby,” Remi rasps. Nadine releases me from her hold and when my eyes meet Remi’s, I can’t help the sob that rips from my chest.

“Baby,” he says again, lifting a hand out for me.

I rush towards him, coming to a sudden halt when I reach his bed, afraid I’ll injure him more if I grab on to him the way my heart is screaming at me to do.

Tentatively, I lean over, place a hand on his heart and kiss his cheek. I don’t say anything, I haven’t been able to in days. But Remington doesn’t need words. He never has.

“I’m going to be okay,” he reassures me.

I should be the one reassuring him, and his parents and Nadine, but here they are, all worried about me.

“Hurts like a motherfucker. One hundred percent do not recommend.” Remington tries to smile, but I’ve catalogued his smiles like a bird watcher tracks their favourite flocks – coming to know and understand every one of them.

And this? This is him covering up the pain he’s in.

My guess is both physically and emotionally.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Remi says, his lips pressed to my ear. I pull back to look at him. His eyes are a dull blue, their sparkle dimmed by the events of the last few days, and his lips are dry and pale. He’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn my head to find Curtis behind me.

“I’m sorry no one filled you in on what was happening. It wasn’t our intention to shut you out,” Curtis says. His eyes are warm but he looks as worn out as I feel.

“The knife cut through his skin and the muscle below, the tip nicking his liver on entry. In most cases, these sorts of bleeds can heal themselves. But Remi was bleeding into his abdomen, which caused his heart rate to spike dangerously.”

My stomach dips, a wave of nausea washing over me. Curtis keeps his hand on my shoulder, and I twist my arm behind me to search out Remington. Needing the solidness of him. His hand finds mine, fingers sliding together like they were made to fit just so.

“He had surgery to repair the cut and the doctors said he will make a full recovery. But he needs to rest.” Curtis shoots a stern glare over my shoulder. “You hear that, Rem? Rest .”

Nadine gets up and stands next to her dad.

“Mom has gone down to the cafe to get some lunch and coffee. We’re going to join her and give you two some privacy.”

I nod again, taking Nadine’s hand with my free one and squeezing.

“You’re welcome to stay, Holden,” Curtis offers. “You are always welcome.”

My eyes burn, but no tears fall as they both turn and walk out of the room. When we’re alone, I lift Remi’s arm and scoot myself onto the bed next to him, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and resting my head over his heart. I’m careful not to nudge his abdomen or rustle his bandages.

Remington kisses the top of my head, sucking in a lungful of air as he does so.

“I’m sorry he hurt you,” he says. “I’m sorry he took away your privacy.”

My stomach twists. There’s so much I have to say. That it wasn’t me who was hurt. That he has nothing to be sorry for. That I love him. I store it all away for another time, content with holding Remi in the silence that speaks volumes, both of our hearts open and vulnerable.

I lose track of time. Maybe hours pass but it could easily be mere minutes wherein, for the first time in days, I let myself relax, closing my eyes and listening to his steady breath and the gentle beating of his – very alive – heart.

“I don’t know what to do,” Remi whispers. His lips brush my forehead. “I want to hate him, but I don’t know if I can.”

My heart aches for this man. This man who has a heart so big that even now, he can’t stop loving the person who put him here.