Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 142

Wren

The breath leaves my lungs as I watch the tear that rolls down Pete's face.

I've been crying since I saw Ezra break down like a baby, apologizing over and over again for the accident.

I can't begin to imagine the guilt he feels. I've had to plant my feet to the ground to give the three of them their moment.

"Are you having big feelings, Mr Pete?" Hannah questions. Then, she does something that shocks us all.

She wipes his tears—with MaryAnne's towel, but that's okay—and the drool at the corner of his lips. "It's okay to have big feelings, I had big feelings too when aunt Wren read my real mommy's letter."

We all just stare at her, speechless, enamored by this sweet little girl. And when my eyes cut to huge, macho, Mitch, he doesn't look so big anymore.

I see the tiredness in his face, the slump of his shoulders, and I also see the hope in his eyes as he stares at Hannah and his brother.

He may not have been the best person, but he loves his brother. So much.

"I really don't want to ruin the mood," he gruffs out, "but trust me, Pete doesn't understand what anyone is saying. I hate to say it, but sometimes he gets like this...the doctors say it's not something to hope over."

And I understand that this is a man that has been disappointed time and time again. A man resigned to the thought that his brother would not get better.

Quincy huddles closer to me, while Ray holds MaryAnne.

"Are you sure?" Ezra asks. "I think we should check again, maybe a different hospital."

Mitch lets out a dry chuckle. "No, Ezra. There's not gonna be any difference, let's not waste any more money...or time."

"He's your brother."

"Don't I know that?" He snaps. "Do you think I like to see him this way? Unable to communicate even if he's hurting somewhere? Don't stand there and think that I don't want him to recover but this–" he heaves, "–this is the hand we've been dealt. And I love him regardless."

I take a step forward, tentatively, of course. "You're strong, Mitch," I say. "I can't imagine how hard it must be for you."

"I have help."

"That's not...I mean, I know you'd have some help, but still..." I sigh. "Can we try? One last time?"

"I said no." His jaw ticks.

When Ezra tries to protest again, I give him a subtle shake of my head.

"Alright," he complies. "We don't have to try again. I can only imagine the disappointments you've had."

Mitch scoffs. "You can't."

"What?"

"You have no idea how many times I've heard the words 'it's not unusual' or 'there's only a twenty percent chance of recovery, and it will never be a full recovery'," he says. "Look, I know you're trying to help, but you need to stop. Pete will not recover, so don't hold your breath."

"I'm sor—"

A sound echoes in the room.

It's quiet but with the silence, we all hear it.

And when we turn, we see Pete, lips parted, eyes blinking rapidly as another sound spills from him.

"Come here, Hannah." I hold my hand out and she walks over just as Mitch rushes to Pete, hands on the wheel chair on either side of him.

"Pete? Can you understand me? If you can understand me, make another sound."

We all hold our breaths, waiting. Watching... hoping.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

It's a long minute, and just when Mitch is about to give up, it happens.

"Nnghh." The sound comes, quiet, forceful.

And Mitch sags, eyes wide and glistening. "I...he just...god, I can't take another disappointment."

"We'll be there with you," Ezra offers.

"No." He shakes his head. "I need to do this on my own."

"You've kept me away from Pete for years, Mitch. Come on, please. Let me be there, let's face this together...the crushing disappointment, the hope, all of it."

Mitch blinks at Ezra, then at all of us. "Just you," he says. "Not even Hannah."

"Okay." Ezra breathes out with a nod. "Thank you, thank you."

"Yea. We need to leave now though, take him to the hospital, see what the doctor says. But I'll tell you again, Ezra, do not hold our breath."

Mitch rolls the wheelchair and Hannah waves at them. Pete's eyes don't leave Hannah, but Mitch...I realize as soon as he's out of the door that he never once spoke to Hannah after that introduction.

The rest of the guys follow to help Mitch out and Ezra crosses the distance between us in just three strides.

"I'll be back, I'll keep you posted," he says, eyes frantic, scared, yet hopeful. "I have to do this, I have to go and..."

My palm rests softly on his jaw. "I know," I whisper. "You need this, so go. We'll be waiting."

"Would you go home?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure yet. But I'll let you know."

"Alright darling." He presses his lips on mine quickly and firmly, then another on my forehead. "I love you."

"I love you," I reply.

He crouches low to meet Hannah, and he gives her a tight hug and kisses the top of her hair. "I'll be back before you know it, sweetheart. Be good."

"Okay, daddy. Bye."

"I love you, my Hannah bug." He kisses her cheek this time before rising with a deep sigh, gray eyes pinned on mine.

"Be safe," he murmurs and slides a hand down my arm, intertwining our fingers briefly.

Then, he saunters out of the office, leaving me with Quincy, Ray and MaryAnne.

Ray presses his lips together. "I need to bleach my eyes."

A small chuckle slips past my lips, and I'm grateful to Ray for breaking the tension in the room. It was nearly suffocating.

"Aunt Wren?" Hannah tugs at me. "What's wrong with Mr Pete? Is he really my real daddy?"

My gaze finds Quincy, then Ray before I respond. "Your daddy, Ezra, will explain better, okay?"

She frowns. "Oh okay."

***

[The Next Day]

The bed dips and it jolts me from sleep. I feel his warm breath on my neck as he slips beneath the covers.

"Hey," I murmur, turning in his arms, eyes fluttering open. "How're you?"

Ezra hadn't come home last night, but he'd called to tell me about it.

After waiting at the clubhouse, Hannah got hungry and tired so we had to head home. It was obvious no one would be returning.

"Go back to sleep, love."

"What's the time?"

"Almost four a.m," he replies, voice hoarse as he holds me firm against him.

I blink up at him, taking in his wet but tired eyes, the haggard expression on his face.

My chest squeezes. "What did the doctor's say?"

"There's..." he chokes, smile watery, "they noticed some improved brain activity. They said he may not walk again, or possibly talk coherently, but..."

"Is there hope?" My heart pounds.

"He said we shouldn't hope."

"But there was activity in his brain, he understood Hannah right? And Mitch? He wanted to speak."

"Yes, yes definitely." He nods. "The doctor said there is no confirmation of a large improvement, hell, he said there could even be a massive decline."

A tear rolls down the corner of his eyes, and he stares up at me with anguish, desperation as he says, "I just want him to be okay. I want him to get better, I really do."

God.

This man, he's been through some shit. He's had to live with so much guilt. Guilt over his friend's accident, guilt over the loss of our baby...it's too much for just one person.

I wipe his tears, and press a kiss to his forehead. Then, I hug him. I hold him.

"Listen to me-" I sniffle, fighting my own tears, "whether Pete recovers or not, it is not, and has never been, your fault."

"It's so fucking hard," he croaks.

"That's why we're going to start over in Engla–"

He shakes his head. "No, I...I can't. I can't leave him. What if–"

"Baby, please. We need this start, we do. Pete will be alright, Mitch too. And we can always visit."

"I—"

"No." My voice is firm. "You know what? You've had a long day, so just rest up. Let me take care of you."

"Mitch, he can't take Hannah. Says he's already got a lot on his plate with Pete, but he's open to visits and vice versa."

Relief, god, the relief warms me from my head to my toes. "Th-that's a good thing, right? We don't want her away from us. She's fine here, we're good to her."

"In some twisted way, I took both her parents from her." He scoffs dryly. "If I didn't cause that accident, Diane wouldn't have had to leave Hannah with me, they'd have been married by now. She'd have been...alive."

I clamp down hard on my jaw, and squeeze my eyes shut because this...this is us going back to square one.

And I can't.

I can't do it.

One step forward and three steps back.