Home > Books > Put Me in Detention(138)

Put Me in Detention(138)

Author:Meghan Quinn

Looking at the door through which Keiko just left, I nod. “Yeah. I am.”

“Absolutely brutal.” Killian busies himself with cleaning up some of the rubbish we have around the room.

“Brutal,” I say. “But absolutely accurate.”

There’s no use in sugarcoating it. I fucked up. I’m the reason I’m in this hospital bed. Why Keiko has had a hard time sleeping, and why Cora is heartbroken. There’s no one else to blame but me.

But how can I fix it?

I think about what Keiko said, about how we evolve, we grow . . .

If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I can be selfish. What I desire, I want, and I get. I wanted Cora, I got her, and I want to keep her, but . . . that might not be the best thing for her. That’s evident from the divorce papers she’s waiting to hand me once I’m out of the hospital.

So, what can make this better?

How can I make this better?

Job number one—when Cora hands me the divorce papers, sign them and let her go. Even though it’ll be more painful than sitting in this hospital bed. I need to let her go, because that’s what will help her move on, help her find happiness.

Job number two—maintain my friendship with Keiko, make sure she never feels the way she’s felt the last few days again.

“I don’t feel right leaving you here by yourself,” Killian says, looking around my empty townhouse.

The boxes are gone, Cora’s things are nowhere in sight, and the only reminder of her ever having been here are the ironed curtains hanging in the living room. Other than that, everything else is gone.

My place has never felt so empty.

The hospital released me early, thank fuck, because I couldn’t take one more second being there. The constant beeping of the machines, the unappealing television options, the relentless staring of Killian, who watched my every move. I need to return every second day for outpatient rehab, but at least I get to sleep in my own bed again.

And I have to live with the reminder that the woman I wanted by my side at the hospital is now doing everything in her power to stay as far away from me as possible.

“I’ll be fine,” I say as I hobble over to the couch. Luckily—if that’s what you want to call it, luck—I broke my right leg, but broke my left wrist, making it possible to hobble around, using a crutch under one arm. They offered an electric wheelchair, but to fuck if I would be driving that thing around.

“You can barely move around,” Killian says. “And what about your baths?”

“I don’t need them.”

Killian swallows. “Mate, you do.”

“I told you, I have a nurse coming to check on me,” I say. I don’t, actually, but I knew the only way Killian would consider letting me come back to my place was with the idea that I wouldn’t be alone.

“Why won’t you just come home to England for a bit? You’re on winter break, so you can rest up with family. Cleo said she’d come over and help take care of you, as well.”

I shake my head as I slowly—and I mean slowly—lower myself onto the couch. “I don’t want to make that trip like this. I promise, I’ll be okay. We have that food delivery service set up, and the nurse is coming in and out. I’ll be fine.”

I can see Killian’s conscience waver, but there’s no way I’m changing my mind, and I think he knows it. He heaves a heavy sigh of frustration, and with his hands deep in his pockets, he rocks back on the heels of his shoes. “Fine. But you’re required to call me three times a day to assure me you’re alive and not stuck in the tub or something.”

I chuckle, even though the sound of my laugh sounds flat to my ears. “I promise. I will.”

He closes the space between us and then squats in front of me. I can see the protective big brother in him. “What are you doing about Cora?”

“Exactly what I told you I was going to do. Sign the papers and let her live her life without me as a burden. She deserves that. She deserves happiness.”

“But don’t you think you were the one who gave her happiness?”

“No.” I glance away, unable to continue meeting my brother’s intense stare. For a moment, when one of the nurses told me how worried Cora had been, how she barely left the chair beside my bed for the first twenty-four hours, I felt hope. But then she didn’t come back. Cora’s one hell of a strong woman, but if she can’t look beyond what my father told her, if she doesn’t want to know the whole truth, then I won’t drag this out for her. She deserves to be treasured. To always be told the truth. “I might have helped her realize that there are guys out there who can treat her with respect, but happiness? I think someone else can give her exactly what she needs. I just hope I didn’t do too much damage.” My throat grows tight as I think about all the wrongs in her life. Chalk me up as one of the biggest ones she’s had to face.