The woman looks at me like I'm something that crawled out from under a rock, which, given my appearance, isn't entirely unfair. I'm covered in blood and grime, my clothes are torn, and I probably smell like a combination of cigarettes and violence.
"Are you family?" she asks, her voice carefully neutral.
I just told her I’m fucking family. Sighing heavily, I roll my eyes and answer. "I'm her husband."
She types something into her computer, frowning at the screen. "I don't see anyone by that name."
My heart stops. "What do you mean you don't see her? She has to be here. She was hurt, and…"
"Devil?"
I spin around and see Storm walking toward me from the direction of the elevators. He looks like he's been through his own war, his shirt is torn and bloody, there's a cut over his left eye, and his knuckles are scraped raw.
"Storm." I grab his shoulders, probably harder than I should. "Where is she? Is she okay?"
"She's going to be fine," he says quickly, and I feel some of the tension leave my body. "Room 314. Couple of broken ribs, concussion, lot of bruises, but nothing that won't heal."
I'm already moving toward the elevators, but Storm catches my arm.
"Devil, wait. There's something you need to know."
I stop, my stomach dropping. "What?"
"Tommy was talking shit before you showed up."
My stomach drops. There's no telling what he knows about everyone in town. He's the type of person who has shit on anyone and everyone. Just so he can use it whenever he needs to. "About what?"
"He was obviously lying." Storm's expression is grim. "Before I got there, he was... he was trying to break her. Physically and mentally. He told her you were an undercover cop. That everything about your relationship was a lie. She told me about it on the way over here." He grips my shoulder. "Of course it's all bullshit, and I told her that."
The world tilts sideways. I lean against the wall, trying to process what he's telling me. She knows. My wife knows that I'm not who I've pretended to be since we met. That our entire relationship has been built on a foundation of lie, and bless Storm, he's tried to fix it all.
"How did she take it? Did she believe it?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.
Storm is quiet for a long moment. "You need to go talk to her. She's hurting, and not just from what Tommy did to her. She thinks you've lied to her. There's a lot going on in her head right now."
I nod, not trusting my voice. The elevator ride to the third floor feels like the longest of my life. Each floor that passes is another second to think about what I'm going to say, how I'm going to continue hiding the truth if she asks me.
How do you tell the woman you love that you've been lying to her since the day you met?
Room 314 is at the end of a long hallway that smells like antiseptic and sadness. I stand outside the door for a full minute, listening to the steady beep of medical equipment and trying to work up the courage to face what's waiting for me on the other side.
Finally, I knock softly and push the door open.
She's lying in the hospital bed, small and fragile-looking against the white sheets. Her face is covered in bruises. Purple and black and yellow, and there's a bandage wrapped around her head. But her eyes are open, and they find mine the second I step into the room.
"Dani."
Her name comes out as barely a whisper, but she hears it. She tries to sit up, winces at the pain, and settles for turning her head to look at me fully.
"You came," she says, and there's something in her voice I can't quite read.
"Of course I came." I move to the chair beside her bed, wanting to touch her but not sure if I'm allowed. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so fucking sorry."
She's quiet for a long moment, just looking at me. We got rid of my clothes with blood all over them, but I still have cuts on my hands, the bruises that are probably already forming on my face.
"Tommy's dead, isn't he?" she says finally.
I nod. "Yeah. He is."
