Chapter 1
That night, Jane was stabbed while shielding her childhood friend Henry. She spent four long hours on the operating table.
When she was finally wheeled out, she grabbed my hand, her voice barely audible, as fragile as paper.
"Babe, I won't be able to move for the next two months. You'll have to take some time off and stay with me," Jane whispered.
I nodded.
She had something else to add.
"As for Henry Hayes... there are some things it would be awkward for him to handle," Jane added.
I froze.
Awkward.
So she actually considered having Henry help out, but it wouldn't work.
Like when I had a 102°F fever and she was stuck at work and couldn't come home, or when I was hospitalized for appendicitis and needed her signature, but she was away on business.
It's been three years.
I was the only one who ever heard her say something was "inconvenient."
I let go of her hand.
The next day, instead of bringing her fresh clothes to the hospital like I was supposed to, I brought something else.
I showed up with divorce papers.
*****
The chairs outside the ER felt like they were made of concrete.
I sat there for four hours, my spine aching with every passing minute.
The hallway reeked of blood and disinfectant, the smell so intense it made my temples pound.
My phone kept lighting up and dimming, over and over.
All the messages were from Jane Evans's coworkers.
[Jane's hurt pretty bad. You should brace yourself.]
[The attacker had a knife. Jane was stabbed protecting Henry.]
[Henry's fine, but Jane got knifed twice in the back.]
I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white.
She'd been stabbed protecting Henry.
It was always Henry.
The surgical lights flickered off.
The doctor pushed open the door, pulled off his mask, and his face was drenched in sweat.
The doctor looked around. "Are you her family? The surgery went well, we managed to save her spleen, but she lost a lot of blood. She'll have to stay in bed for at least two months."
I nodded.
"Thank you, doctor," I said.
My voice was flat, like I'd rehearsed it a hundred times.
When they wheeled her out, Jane's face was as pale as the hospital walls.
Her eyes were half-closed, and her lips looked like all the color had drained out of them, cracked and dry.
Her breath had fogged up the oxygen mask, leaving a layer of mist.
I walked beside the gurney, my fingers clutching the side rail.
All of a sudden, she stirred.
Her fingers trembled as her hand fumbled its way out from beneath the blanket.
Instinctively, I took her hand.
Her hand was ice-cold, so thin I could feel every bone against my palm.
She struggled to open her eyes, a sliver.
"Babe," she whispered.
"I'm here," I said.
She swallowed hard.
"I'm going to be stuck in bed for the next two months," she said.
"I know," I replied.
"You should ask your editor for some extended time off," she said, her voice cutting in and out like a broken radio. "Come stay with me at the hospital."
I didn't say anything.
Extended leave.
Last time I was in the hospital for my appendectomy, I asked her to take time off from the Criminal Investigation Unit to come sign the papers.
She said, "The case is at a critical stage. I can't leave."
So, it was our neighbor, Mr. Wallace, who ended up signing for me.
"Yeah." I nodded anyway.
Then she added something else.
Her words cut into me like a rusty, blunt knife, wearing down the patience I'd managed to hold onto for three years.
"Henry..." Jane murmured, her voice trailing off.
She hesitated, weighing her words.
"Some things it'd be weird for him to do," she said.
Her eyes met mine.
She looked so weak, but there was this casual, almost unconcerned air about her, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Like she was explaining something so minor, as if it was no big deal at all.
Some things were too awkward for Henry to handle, like helping her wash up, change clothes, or deal with bathroom stuff.
So she asked me to do it instead.
Not because I'm her husband.
Just because it'd be "awkward" for Henry.
I let go of her hand.
The movement was so slight, it seemed almost accidental.
"Get some rest," I said.
I stood up.
She closed her eyes, her breathing slowly evening out.
The anesthesia hit her hard, and she drifted off into a deep sleep.
I stood by the door, leaning against the wall.
At the end of the hallway, Henry was sitting on a bench.
His clothes were stained with blood, but it wasn't his.
It was Jane's.
When he saw me, he stood up and hurried over.
"Bro, how's Jane doing?" Henry asked.
He always called me "bro."
He started calling me that back in college.
He was Jane's childhood friend, a year younger than her, and her partner in the Criminal Investigation Unit.
He was tall, about six feet, with a clean-cut look. He was quick on his feet and ranked second in marksmanship in the Criminal Investigation Unit.
Jane was number one.
"They managed to save her spleen," I said.
He let out a shaky breath, his eyes misting over.
"It's all my fault. I didn't notice anyone behind me, " Henry began.
"Yeah," I said.
I interrupted him.
"You should head home. I'll stay here with Jane," I said.
Henry froze for a moment, probably not expecting my tone to be so flat.
Usually, when he came over for dinner, I'd open the door with a smile, cook up four dishes, and sit there grinning as he and Jane talked about cases late into the night.
"Bro, are you, " Henry started.
"I'm tired," I said. "I've been on my feet for four hours straight."
That was the truth.
Henry nodded, looking like he wanted to say something, giving my shoulder a pat instead.
"I'm leaving Jane to you," he said.
So she was my responsibility now.
Like she'd always belonged to me.
I watched him walk away.