Page 103 of Don't Leave Me Behind
“No, I swear to God. I don’t think anyone knows about it.”
Jesus, how out of touch have I been these last few years? “How the hell did he manage to keep this big a secret?”
Clay tips his head, arching an accusing eyebrow.
“Shut up.” I slap his chest before leaning my body back into the seat. “How much do planes even cost?” I wonder out loud as the engines roar to life.
“No fucking clue.” He looks around the jet like he’s seeing it through new eyes, and damnit, so am I.
Ethan and Mercerpick us up from the airfield in the Expedition. The rest of the boys, Dad included, are busy trying to put things to rights with the ranch.
The car ride home is incredibly awkward; neither of the boys speaks to us. Clay sits in the captain’s chair next to me, his fingers wrap around mine. I don’t think he’s left my side for longer than ten minutes since I woke up, and if I’m being honest, I don’t mind it at all. Even those ten minutes made my skin itchy with nerves. The last time I went somewhere without him, I woke up with more than ten broken bones. I’m not ready to face that head-on again.
Part of me is happy he doesn’t have to go back to a real job. I know he’s going to have to work eventually, whether that be at the ranch with Brooks or back at the Sheriff’s office, if Mercer ever gets his head out of his ass. But I’m hoping for a few more days with him. Days to settle in, to keep my mind from wandering too far into the what-ifs. I need him to keep me grounded, keep me present. The same as I did for him all those years ago.
Clay asked me if I remember the crash, and the truth is, I do. Not the actual crash itself, but I remember waiting for the firemen to cut me out of the car, the way I could smell the gas leaking, feel the rain on my skin, how I couldn’t feel my legs. There’s more to process than I want to deal with right now.
When we pull up around the horseshoe drive at the mainhouse, Ethan stops the car, goes around the back, and opens the hatch. Mercer opens the side door, a soft smile aimed in my direction. “Ready?”
“Huh?” I glance at him, then out the window at the main house. This house hasn’t been my home in years. I guess I thought we were dropping something off, then we’d go back to the cabin. That little piece of paradise I carved out of the ranch. Somewhere for Clay and me.
“You can’t stay at the cabin.” Mercer stands there, looking at me like I’m dumb.
“Excuse me?” I rear back, blinking, wondering where he gets the fucking nerve.
“Baby.” Clay soothes his fingers down my arm. “You’re still in a wheelchair. The cabin isn’t big enough, or accessible enough.”
“Oh.” I look down at my legs. They work fine, if only my pelvis weren’t still broken. Speaking of said pelvis, I am suddenly very aware of how long I’ve been sitting. Everything is beginning to ache. “But it’s my home,” I whisper to Clay with sad eyes. “Our home.”
“I know,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my hair.
“It isn’t fair,” I whimper when Mercer scoops me out of the vehicle, his face flinching when he hears the noise.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” Mercer sets me down gently. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m okay, just sore.”
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t drive?” Ethan comes around the Expedition, taking up a post on the other side of me, blocking Clay from me. I sigh, my heart heavy as the boys wheel me away from him. I can’t even turn back to make sure he’s coming. My neck is still locked in this stupid brace.
Mom is waiting for us when we make our way into the entryway.
“There she is, our little pincushion.” Adler grins down at me.
Ethan’s nostrils flare, hand curling into a fist at his side. It might be a little too soon to joke, but I chuckle. If there’s one thing Adler is a pro at, it’s getting a rise out of someone, especially once he learns which buttons to push.
“How was the flight?” Adler asks, around a mouthful of food.
“It was enlightening, Mr...”
Adler’s eyes widen as he shakes his head. I guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t know that he owns an aviation company. I narrow my eyes at him, a silent demand for a conversation in the near future.
He nods, looking relieved when I don’t say anything else.
“Weird…” Mom reminds us that she’s there. “I’ve prepared your old room for you, Leni.”
“Thanks, Ma,” my voice croaks out. My throat is a mess from the extubation; it feels like fire most nights, and Miya said it will probably feel dry for a while as it heals.
“Do you need a room as well, Clayton or…”
