Page 41 of Uncharted

Reno raised a brow. “He’s not normally grumpy?”

Which earned him a laugh from everyone but Darren, who just scowled. They filed out, my mother clasping my good hand before she left. My dad cupped my face and kissed my forehead, and my sister did the same. Darren lingered at the foot of my bed for a moment before sighing, shaking his head, and coming up to pat my chest gently.

Before they left, my brother hesitated again, and before I could ask what was wrong, he turned to Reno and spoke. It was too quiet for me to make out what was said, and because of the way he was standing, I couldn’t see their faces. It was brief, though, and when he walked off, Reno wore a frown, and I couldn’t tell if he was upset or just thinking.

I waited until he went to the door and closed it, blocking out the sounds of the machines before asking. “What did he say?”

“Something for me to chew on for a bit,” Reno said with a grunt, and then the frown disappeared, and he looked at me with a sad, lost expression.

“I’m fine,” I told him.

“Don’t start fucking lying to me when I can see the evidence to the contrary right in front of me,” he hissed as he made his way to my bedside, yanking the chair my mother had used closer to the bed and sitting down with more violence than necessary.

“I…get the feelin’ I’m in trouble right now,” I said slowly. “Okay, then can I try again? I’ll be okay…eventually.”

“I know,” he grumbled, and I looked at him. He was jammed against the back of the chair, a shadow over his features, arms tightly crossed over his stomach. “You dick.”

Alright, so it wasn’t about me ‘lying’ to reassure him, so…what?

“You…threw me,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing. “You absolute shithead. You chose to⁠—”

Oh.

“What was I supposed to do?” I asked. “I mean, it’s not like I remember, but…if there wasn’t much time to react, I did what I could to save one of us.”

“And that was who you chose.” Reno glared. “You could have, I don’t know, pushed me and gone with me. Grabbed me and jumped. Fuck knows you don’t have a problem picking me up any other time. No, you had to push me and leave yourself where you could have…Jesus fucking Christ, Jake! You could have died. Shit, you should have died. God looks after drunks, toddlers, and Jackson Harold fucking Lhant!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it. “I don’t remember.”

“I. Do.”

There was no defense, not really. I knew he was just shedding the last of his terror, his fear and horror catching up to him and settling in now the coast was clear. Where it was just the two of us and he could finally let loose the emotions that had been trapped deep inside his head because his brother needed his support, Aidan needed people to worry about him, and I was in such a state that he couldn’t break down despite it chipping away at his sanity.

“I…get it,” I said softly.

“Do you?” he snapped. “Do you?”

“Yes,” I said simply, meeting his furious eyes and smiling sadly. “I’d be just as freaked out and worried if it were you in my position. And I’d probably be just as pissed if you had put yourself at risk to save me. I’d be a mess if I were in your shoes, havin’ to wake up, knowin’ ya weren’t in the clear yet, and then sittin’ around, prayin’ you would wake up without serious damage. I see it; I understand it.”

His anger softened, but it was still there as his eyes glittered wetly. “I’ve been going out of my fucking mind. Everything happened so fast. One minute I realized the dam was going to go and then I was…in the air. I didn’t even realize that you hadn’t saved yourself until I woke up in the hospital. And then I find out you and Aidan are in rough shape and they didn’t know if you’d wake up or what condition you’d be in. And all I could do was…fucking hell, all anyone wanted was for me to stay in my bed, but⁠—”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“And I’d do it again if I had to.”

His eyes grew wetter, his voice thick. “I know that, too.”

“And I’m sorry about that, too.”

“I know,” he said, rubbing his eyes furiously and bowing his head.

Grimacing, I shifted so I could reach him, putting my good hand on the side of his face and wiping one of the tears that escaped. “I can’t help it.”

He leaned into my touch, and I knew he wasn’t truly angry, just terrified and hurting. “You keep telling me things I already know. And I swear to God, if you say you’re sorry one more time, I’m going to break something on your right arm.”

I grinned. “There’s the temper people rarely get to see.”