Victory had spent the rest of the night by his side, like a sentry guarding Gage as he slept, head draped across his arm, eyes closed and catching snatches of sleep where she could. Relief had swelled, bright and fast, the moment Gage, though groggy and unfocused, had opened his eyes. And then she knew, with every breath and desperate hope, he was going to be okay. He was going to make it.
The doctors had assured them he was through the worst, but now needed his space and rest, pushing them to head home. Though a part of her was reluctant to leave, she did. First to her condo, where Aubrey and Ed waited for word of his condition, and then, because she couldn't handle being there—not after everything—for the only place she could seek out any solace.
Soleil.
The doors were closed to patrons and staff, the kitchen empty and quiet. The pool of blood that had streamed across the soft grey was scrubbed down and gone, but she would forever see it. Forever remember that horrible, garish, slick puddle of red...
For the rest of the week, she hid in her office, with the door closed and her eyes glued to the blank computer screen, pushing through long days and longer hours until she felt like a zombie, shuffling through life and routine. And here, almost a full seven days later, her body was finally determined to break. Victory didn't remember when the fatigue had struck, or the moment she'd put her head down to rest. Only when she heard the sound of a gentle knock at the door did she realize she'd been drooling over invoices.
The first thing Jacqueline noticed, as a mother and friend, was the deeply carved shadows smeared under Victory's eyes, the pale and almost gaunt look to her that set a heart to worry.
"You look exhausted." Jacqueline shuffled into the office and planted a hand on her generous hip, her bright waves of fire red hair piled into a sloppy bun.
Victory sighed, brushing her hands over her eyes to rub away the last stubborn vestiges of fatigue.
"I am." She admitted, straightening in her chair. "But I can't sleep, not while..." she let the rest of the statement linger, unspoken, not that Jacqueline needed her to explain.
"How is he faring?" Lowering to the seat next to Victory, she reached out and took her hand, found the fingers stiff and unwilling to hold on.
"Better. From what Roarke has told me, Gage has had two surgeries to treat the wound and is healing nicely."
"So why are you here?"
"I've been asking myself that every single day." Victory smiled bitterly. "Why am I here? I don't have an answer for you, other than I am afraid." Afraid to face him and the fear of the unknown. What would he say when he saw her? What would she say? And could there ever be hope to undo the irreparable damage she caused the moment she'd pushed him out of her life?
Fear was something Jacqueline understood, and in a gesture she would have done for her own daughter, Ada, she brought Victory's hand to her lips and gave the smooth palm a doting kiss.
"I've known you for a long time," she began. "First you were the quiet, dark-haired girl who always kept her nose down and worked the line. Hard days and long hours, that was you. Passion, driven and determined, you were." Smiling, her soft brown eyes winked with pride. "And you made something of yourself, for yourself. This place, built on hopes, financed with dreams—but as happy and fulfilled you might now be because of Soleil, won't mean a damn thing if you let something even more precious slip through your fingers. Love, Victory.
"Everyone deserves a chance to have it, to hold it. So don't you dare throw away yours." She warned giving Victory's ribs a jab with a blunt finger and was warmed to see the smile dance into her eyes.
Smiling, Victory leaned forwards, kissed both of Jacqueline's glowing cheeks. "Do me a favour and lock up? There's somewhere I need to be."
#
Hailing a cab was a breeze but thanks to construction along King straight down to Yonge, traffic was at a crawl and the stretch in time was shredding her already frayed nerves. She'd failed Gage, not once, but twice, she thought miserably, and now was the time to put up or shut up. So, with no plan, prepared to fall on her sword if need be, Victory burst into his hospital room, only to find it empty.
Frantic, she pressed a hand over her chest where her heart seized, tripped and plummeted into the icy chasm of her bowels. The bed made and the room entirely void of a living body save for herself and the stunned nurse who appeared from the narrow washroom.
"Help you?" she asked tersely while tucking a rag into a bucket overburdened with cleaning supplies.
Questions swelled and swarmed inside of her head, beating with furious wings that buzzed so loud she couldn't think of how to speak above the roar of panic. With a weary cluck of her tongue, the nurse shouldered the bucket.
"Go on down to the nursing station, end of the hall. You can't be in here."
Fingers stiff, knuckles white, she latched on to the ill-tempered nurse before she could shoulder her way past Victory and out the door to return to the hellish swarm of triage.
"Where is he? The patient staying in this room—what happened?"
Irritated, the nurse cocked one thick black brow in desperate need of tweezers. "Mr. Donovan was discharged from the hospital this morning."
"Dis...dis..." Victory's tongue fumbled with the simple word and her thoughts spun and her mind reeled. He'd only been cleared from surgery for a handful of days. Surely not enough...nowhere near enough for him to be fit to leave. "I don't understand. How could he—?"
"You'll have to take that up with the doctor or his family." Overworked from an eighteen-hour shift, irritable from an earlier episode with an elderly patient losing control of his bowels before making the toilet, the nurse pried Victory's hands from her shoulders, then added with a weary shake of her head, "He hasn't been gone long. Last I heard, he planned to head home."
Home. The single word punched through the plate of her chest like a bullet. She flew from the hospital, a woman possessed, and hoped, beyond sense or reason, that she was not too late.
#
No one was answering their phones. Not Niobe or Shayne, Roarke or Matthias. Gage...
"Dammit." Victory cursed, panic lodging hard and firm in her throat as she raced into the lobby of the Sphinx. Bypassing the concierge desk, she shot straight for the elevator, and almost took out Robert Downey Junior in her haste.
"Sorry!" She called over her shoulder, catching the snarling oath of his personal security, and punched the golden button for the top floor. Alone in the elevator, she watched the climbing numbers on restless feet, teeth digging into the curve of her bottom lip. Why, for the love of God, did the world slow to crawl whenever she was in a rush or panic?
Reaching the top floor, she bulleted to the door of the Isis, slid to a halt. Heart hammering, breath panting, she gazed down at the handle; the door was ajar. Panic gave way to desperate hope and she pushed inside, calling out his name.
She found him the bedroom, half bent at the waist; a packed suitcase draped over the bed and folded jeans in his hand.
Gage eased to standing and winced against the weeping protest of his chest or the dizzy spin in his head. Her cheeks were flush, her eyes were wide; she looked desperately afraid and heart wrenchingly beautiful. He wanted to touch her, so badly he ached with the need, if only to slip his hands around her throat and squeeze. He waited for her, for days. Days! And she'd failed to show up, until now. This moment. Damn her.
"You're leaving." She breathed as he tossed in the jeans atop the perfectly folded mound.
"Looks that way."
"Hey, packing thought I told you sit down and not to bother with the...?" Shayne breezed in, faltering midstride when she saw the tableau of Victory and Gage. Sagely, she tucked her tongue in cheek; she rolled cool grey eyes over Victory and smiled, not without warmth or welcome, or empathy.
"Hello, Victory. Gage, the bellhop is just in the hall to gather your bags and finish packing. The car is waiting downstairs. We need to get going. I'll give you five minutes before I send him in." Saying no more than that, she left.
"You heard Shayne." Gage inclined his head in lieu of a shrug and stooped to pick up his leather jacket from the foot of the made bed. "Time's up. Excuse me."
"Gage..." Victory gazed up at him, every inch of her body prickling with desperation. "You can't leave. Not like this." When he steered left, she put herself squarely in his path. "I'm sorry."
His eyes slid to her, hard, flat and entirely without mercy. "Not enough."
"I love you."
The grey in the blue shone hard as flint. "Still not enough."
When Gage advanced another step, she planted hands to his waist, conscious of the patch of gauze covering the right side of his chest, and held there.
"You're right." She admitted. "Tell me what it's going to take. Tell me what I need to do, because I don't want to lose you."
Emotions, bright and hot and desperate, swirled and tightened in his chest, rose up to his throat and threatened to strangle him. He had to walk away from her lest he give in and fall to his knees begging. He crossed to the other side of the room, with a resigned sigh, Gage hook his thumbs in his pockets, and leveled a cool glare that shot her straight between the eyes. "You tell me."
"I messed up." Victory continued, she began to pace, needing the movement to keep her thoughts flowing. "Not once but twice. I love you, and I didn't want to see just how much I needed you until...when I thought..." And because the memory of him in a pool of blood, his face white and eyes empty, still turned her stomach, she stopped. Closed her eyes. Her hands braced the polished dresser for a steadying moment before she turned around to face him.
"I'll walk away from the restaurant, I don't care, Gage. I'll follow you around the world, if needs be. Just please..." She begged, and pride be damned, Victory let the tears come, fast and hot and beyond control. "Please don't go back to Vancouver. Stay. I promise I'll—"
Because the sight of her tears tore him up inside far worse than any bullet ever could have, Gage brushed away a stray tear from her cheek. "Who said I was going to Vancouver?"
Sniffing, Victory brushed away the wet from her cheeks. "Shayne...the car..."
He smiled at that. He could have told her the simple truth, that he was merely checking out of the hotel, not the city, and to stay with Shayne and Roarke for the next few months in their new condo until I get a clean bill of health from the hospital. After that, following his early morning conference call with Naseer, Gage would personally select an onsite project manager while he oversaw the majority of the project remotely.
But that would have been too easy, and though his heart ached for her, Gage wasn't above making her feel the pinch a little while longer.
"As it so happens, I have other business to attend to."
Hope bloomed and died. Her heart sank. "I see." She swiped away the rest of the tears that flowed hotly down her cheeks, struggling to regain some measure of composure and dignity. "I can't let things go like this. Can't we try again? Go back to where we were before...before?"
"No." Gage said simply. "We can't. There's no going back. I want more."
"More?"
He stepped closer, forcing her to angle her head up and those soft, lovely brown eyes soft with tears and confusion. "Yes. More." Now was the time, the only time, he realized, and brought the box out from his pocket, the one he'd carried with him day and night in the hospital as he waited, just waited for her to come to her senses. He held it there until her eyes finally lowered before he cracked open the lid and stole her breath.
There was just enough light slanting in from the windows to set the yellow diamond to fire and dance and dazzle. Stunned, she could only stare and gasp and weep yet more tears that he stemmed with a fast, bracing kiss.
"Don't cry," he murmured. "I can't stand seeing you cry."
"I'm not." But the tears still flowed, but with them came a bubble of laughter. "I didn't think you...I thought I'd lost you."
He kissed her again, slowly, deeply. "You're an idiot. And have a shit memory. I told you once already." He paused to remove the ring, to slide it onto her shaking finger. It fit like a dream.
Lifting her hand, he kissed the back of it.
"I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."