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They have no idea what the fuck to do with me. I’ve succumbed to all of their tests, after I took a shower and cleaned off any remnants of the horror I endured. Nothing remains of the damage that was there when I was brought in last night.
“We’d like to do more tests,” Dr Wallace says as he flips through my chart.
“No disrespect, but none of your tests is going to provide you with the logical explanation you’re looking for.” I lean back in the chair and cross my arms. “This one isn’t explainable.”
“I need to know what happened,” he says, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Divine intervention,” I say.
“Bullshit!” He glares at me from across the room.
I lean over and finish lacing my boots. I climb to my feet and grab the duffel bag CJ brought this morning.
“I’m leaving,” I say and start out of the room.
“This hospital will not be responsible for any relapse if you leave right now,” he snaps and I glance over my shoulder at him.
“I’m pretty sure that’s something that isn’t going to happen for another forty years or so,” I say, and I know it’s flippant, but I am tired and hungry and want to eat a fricken moose, and then take a nap in a regular bed, not a hospital cot where they can observe the freak.
I walk outside, expecting CJ, but Bridget leans against her car instead.
“I don’t smell like death and coffee anymore,” I say and spread my arms out, giving her my signature grin.
Her lips spread into a tight smile and she nods, slipping into the driver’s seat without a word. I toss my bag onto the back and then drop into the passenger seat with a huff.
“I need to eat,” I say through a yawn.
“I’m sure your brother has something you can grab.” The chill in her voice hits and I glance at her.
“You’re pissed at me?”
She sends me a sideways glare. “Is this the way it’s always going to be?” she snaps the question out.
“I didn’t plan on dying, Bridget. It just fucking happened, okay?”
“What exactly happened in there?” Her hands grip the steering wheel so hard her knuckles are white.
I take a deep breath, calming myself. “You didn’t get the tune he was whistling?”
She looks at me with a crease between her eyes. “Whistle while you Work from Snow White. Why?”
I just stare at her and cock my head.
She shrugs and looks back at the road. “Well?”
“Take a closer look at those memories of when I was eight,” I say and glance out the side window.
We pass harbor beach and the church while she drifts through the memories. As we approach CJ’s road, she gasps and nearly misses the turn. The car bounces off the curb before she gets control of it again and stops before we get to the curve in the road. Throwing the vehicle in park, she turns to me, her eyes wide enough for me to explain.
“It all came back like that.” I snap my fingers. “So did the terror, and I guess CJ wasn’t kidding about how fragile my heart was.”
She quietly digests the new information, chewing on her bottom lip in a way that makes me want to kiss her, but I refrain. When her eyes drift back to mine, she says, “So, if we had taken you home and something triggered you, you would have died?”
I don’t answer because she is probably right; instead, I look out the windshield. The electric shock did something, and if I hadn’t been in the hospital... my mind doesn’t even entertain the ‘what if’ involved, and I glance at Bridget.
“Technically, I did die.” A chill skitters from my neck to my tailbone and I grimace. “And you screaming at me was the only reason I didn’t just fade to black.”
She stares at me.
“So, thank you,” I add.
She blinks and does a little shake of her head, as if something morbid crawled under her skin, before she focuses back on the road. With a deep breath, she puts the car in drive. “You’re welcome,” she says, without looking at me. “But it was the defibrillator, not me.”
Her mind is swirling so fast that I’m only getting an image here and a thought there, and every memory is heart wrenching.
“It was you. Without your rant, I wouldn’t have been trying to get back into my body at the precise moment they shocked me.” I chew on the inside of my lip, debating on asking if I should really expect a future with her, especially after the kind of pain I’ve caused.
She pulls through the broken gate and parks.
I grab her hand before she gets out, and she stops with one foot on the driveway and looks back at me. “What?”
The snap in her voice makes me let her go. “Nothing.” I step out of the car and follow her to the door, where she waves for me to lead the way.
I open the door and stare at the banner hung haphazardly across the living room. Noisemakers and streamers meet me, and if I had had a weak heart, the shock of the welcoming party would have put me into cardiac arrest. The words written on the banner pull a grin from me. Welcome back from the dead! I particularly liked the electrified skeleton they hung from one end, like a serious twisted after-thought.
I meet my brother’s gaze and he shrugs, looking over his shoulder at his handiwork, with the same stupid grin I’m sure I’m wearing. I turn on Bridget and point at her.
“You knew about this?”
Her light laugh caresses my soul and without her permission, I pull her against me and plant a serious kiss on her laughing lips.
I let more time pass than appropriate in a room full of onlookers before I break the kiss and step inside.
I stare at the sign and my smile fades. Everyone I truly care about stands in my brother’s living room, and for a moment, I feel the loss of those who aren’t here celebrating this moment with us. My gaze lands on Naomi and her family, and I give a nod.
Grace is the first person to approach and she steps forward tentatively.
“Thank you,” she says, and I just swallow the lump in my throat.
“I’m sorry your father wasn’t here to see this day,” I say, in a voice squeezed with emotion.
Her palm cups my cheek. “This is what was meant to pass,” she says, and that age-old wisdom I remember clouds her eyes. “The righteous man has to fall in order to claim the light and banish the darkness.” Her hand dropped from my cheek. “I never understood that until now.”
“Where did you hear that?” I ask, and she gives me that soft smile that reminds me of both her mother and father at the same moment.
“The angels have been telling me that all my life,” she answers, and I can’t help but shiver and glance up at Naomi.
I utter a laugh. “So much for chance,” I say, and Naomi actually allows a tight smile. She still does not like me, and being in the same room is painful for her.
“They also wanted me to let you know you’ve earned your salvation. Lucifer is no longer a threat to us, and for that, they are grateful.”
I have to bite my lip against the sudden swell of emotion those words bring to the surface, and I give Grace a quick hug before crossing to Naomi.
“I know there isn’t a thing I can do to fix what I’ve done to you and your family...”
She puts her fingers over my mouth. “It had to be you.” She looks over my shoulder at Grace and then back at me. “And as much as I hate you for killing my husband, I know it had to be you, and it had to be him.” Tears form in her eyes. “It was the only way for us to be free and that’s all he ever wanted.”
I drop my chin to my chest, fighting the burn in my eyes and at the back of my throat. “I miss him,” I whisper, knowing my feelings on the matter are nothing in comparison to hers. He had been my best friend, my pillar when shit hit the fan, and he never once let me down. Killing him had nearly killed me. I meet her gaze and she rolls her lower lip between her teeth and nods before she pulls me into a hug.
When she releases me, I step back, scanning the room.
“Hey,” I say to Paige and Austin. Outside of the small conversation at their house before hell broke loose, we hadn’t really had a chance to talk. I was looking forward to getting reacquainted with them once things settled down.
“I guess this is all that is left of the angel bloodlines.” Austin says and I glance around the room.
“Twelve.”
“The number of zodiac signs,” Paige says with a smile.
I let out a laugh and turn back to Bridget, who stands right next to CJ. My gaze rises to the skeleton again just as another zap hits it. “Nice touch. Whose idea was that?”
The dimples carved in Bridget’s cheeks give me the answer even before CJ points at her. I glance at our daughter.
“Your mother is seriously twisted,” I say, and she just blushes and glances at Bridget with a nod.
“I have a bottle with your name on it in the other room,” CJ says, and he shuffles his feet before he steps through the kitchen entry. The group flows through the door before I can, and I’m not sure if it’s coordinated or just coincidence that I am left last with Bridget.
I grab her arm, stopping her from following the rest of the crew.
“So the car?” I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “You weren’t really pissed?”
Her smile fades a notch. “CJ’s been teaching me how to hide my thoughts, and it seems I’m most successful when I’m angry or hurt, so I just kept replaying those things in my head. And yeah, it still pisses me off that you left and made a conscious choice not to answer any of my calls, so I used it.”
“Well, you did a great job. And that,” I look up again at the extra special twist in the sign. “Is fucking fantastic,” I add with a grin.
She takes my hand and leads me into the back room where everyone has gathered. I cross to the sliders and CJ hands me a glass of Dewars. I glance at the lawn and CJ wasn’t kidding. It was a mess with spots of black patches mixed with rust patches. “Did you try holy water?” I ask, nodding at the black mess.
CJ and Valerie exchange a glance and both of them shake their head.
“Neither of us even thought of that,” Valerie laughs.
I offer my best ‘maybe you should try’ smile and focus back on the yard.
“We have hot dogs and hamburgers along with macaroni and cheese for everyone tonight,” CJ says. “It’s time to celebrate.”
“Celebrating sounds great!” I say, and I’m not sure I mean it, but I sip my scotch and take a seat on the couch, observing the family dynamics I had missed for the last ten years. After a flurry of activity in the kitchen, the kids run downstairs with arms full of snacks and soda. CJ and Austin chat over by the refrigerator, while the women work as a team in the kitchen, putting together snacks for us.
Bridget catches me watching out of the corner of her eye and stops, turning towards me, and she just leans on the counter with a smile. I had her memories, I should know how close she has gotten to my family, but seeing it in action leaves emptiness in my center, along with a sliver of envy. I raise my glass at her and down the scotch.
The warm flow spreads through me and I close my eyes. The couch cushion shifts and I open my eyes, taking in Bridget’s beautiful hazel eyes.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly, studying me, looking for any sign of weakness that might indicate a relapse of some sort.
“I’m fine.” I look at the group continuing to talk and work together. “I just haven’t been in a lot of social situations in quite a few years.” When my gaze returned to hers, I press my lips together in a slight smile. “I’m not good at small talk.”
“Since when?”
I laugh. “Since always.”
“You used to be the center of attention,” she says.
“That’s only because people had to watch my hands to know what the hell I was saying.” I chuckle, looking at her sideways.
“Yeah, well, your hands were magic,” she mumbles and goes to stand up.
“What?”
She smiles. “All the girls watched your hands because we wanted them on us, and all the guys watched because your hands could catch a rocket at fifty yards.”
“And here I thought it was because I had such interesting things to say.”
“About what?” CJ says, and takes a seat on the other couch, looking between us.
“I was just teasing your brother,” Bridget says, and wanders towards the kitchen and the cheese and cracker spread on the breakfast bar.
CJ watches her go and glances at me, tilting his head in her direction.
“I don’t need dating advice from you,” I say and lean forward, pouring another glass of scotch. “Besides, there’s no rush. We’ll eventually figure it out.” I follow his gaze, and her light laugh drifts over the room.
The rest of the night passes in surreal slow motion. Laughter prevails, and it isn’t the sarcastic or tension filled laughter of the last fifteen years. It’s strange, and a part of me is uncomfortable with it, as if I am going to wake to find our peace is all an illusion.
Naomi has the same haunting in her eyes that I’m experiencing. She’s been on the run a hell of a lot longer than any of us, so this has to be just as unnerving to her. She looks up from her conversation, meeting my gaze as if she can read my mind, and I send her a nod along with a closed-lip smile before I finish off my drink.
“Did you ever think we’d see this day?” Valerie asks as she steps by my side, scanning the room with me.
“Honestly, no. I’m still waiting for the bomb to drop.”
“I think we all are,” she says and drapes her arm over my shoulder. “But for now, I say we seize the day!” Her grin is infections and I clink my empty glass against hers in a show of solidarity.