might not be the same woman she was.
I stopped listening to them after that. She beat the odds once, she can do it again. My Skittle is a fighter.
I turn at the sound of a knock and raise a surprised eyebrow at the man who walks through, but that’s all the attention I spare him, before turning back to my wife.
“Asher.” My father says my name, but when I don’t answer, he sighs.
When his hand squeezes my shoulder, I don’t shrug him off, but I don’t speak either, barely able to hold myself together as it is. I don’t trust myself to talk to the man who brought that woman into my life.
See, the car accident wasn’t an accident at all. Dawn decided that if I could take everything from her, then she’d return the favor.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me, his voice sounding rough and filled with guilt.
But really, as much as I’d love to blame him, this is all on me. “It's my fault. If you are looking for absolution, you have it. You might have brought Dawn into our lives, but it was my own reckless stupidity that caused all this. Go. I don’t blame you, but I don’t have time to deal with anything else beyond my wife right now.”
“Asher, this isn’t your fault either—”
I cut him off, climbing to my feet and rounding on him. “I set this in motion. All I saw was the resort I so greedily wanted. I was desperate, and Dawn seemed like the ideal candidate— shallow and money-hungry. When I found out about Linda, I dropped the idea with Dawn, but she wasn’t as happy to let go. When she crossed me, I bankrupted her. I got her fired and blackballed her so nobody in this city would work with her again or fall for her charms and find themselves a new ex-wife.”
I look over at Linda’s unmoving form, her skin an array of yellow and green bruises.
“I just didn’t realize Linda would be the one to pay the ultimate price.” I swallow hard, fighting to keep my emotions in check. “I can’t lose her, Dad. I can’t—” I choke, and for the first time since I was a boy, I find myself wrapped up in my father's arms as I cry into his shoulder.
We stand there, father and son, and all the anger and resentment built up over the years just disappear.
“She is going to pull through. She has a lot to come back to,” he tells me, pulling back and looking me dead in the eye.
Before I can answer, the sound of a throat clearing has us both turning to face the door. Peterson stands in the doorway looking haggard, as if he has aged ten years in the last two weeks.
“I came to see my daughter,” he informs us solemnly.
With a squeeze to my shoulder, my dad indicates with his head that he’ll be outside. I wait for him to close the door behind him before speaking.
“I’m not leaving her, so don’t ask,” I tell him, happy my voice sounds stronger than I feel.
“She’ll kick my ass when she wakes up if I do that,” he remarks.
My lips twitch into a semblance of a smile at that. “She will, won’t she?” I walk over and take my spot in the chair next to the bed and indicate for Peterson to do the same on the opposite side.
“I have so much I need to say to her,” he says quietly.
I don’t speak, I just lift Linda’s hand gently and link my fingers through hers.
“Do you think she knows how much I love her?” he asks. His words score a path across my skin, opening a wound that has barely scabbed over.
It’s a question I’ve asked myself daily. Does she know how much she means to me? Did I tell her enough, or show her in a thousand tiny ways that my day started and ended with her?
She’s the air in my lungs, and as she hovers between life and death, I feel I’m slowly suffocating, drowning in guilt and what ifs. If she dies, it will be the end of me too, because I can’t breathe without her.
“She knows.” It’s what he needs to hear.
“I lost so much time with her because of my own stubbornness. I’ll never forgive myself if—”
I cut him off before he can continue. “Don’t finish that sentence. You don’t get to give up on her while she is fighting tooth and nail to hold