Defective (The Institute Series Book 3) (23 page)

“But you still slept with me,” he says, his brows wrinkling in confusion.

“I know,” I involuntarily smile at the memory. “My brain was telling me to stop it, but my body wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s why you left in the middle of the night?”

“I thought it was a huge mistake because I knew you were lying to me, but I did it anyway.”

He smiles back at me. “Maybe your body has known all along.”

“Known what?”

“That we are meant for each other.”

I don’t mean to scoff, but I do. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to be with you, but I don’t really believe in ‘meant for each other’. I’ve learnt relationships are hard and take work. If fate, and soulmates, and ‘meant for each other’ was real, then why is it so difficult?”

“Because the obstacles make it worth it.”

I just stare at him blankly.

“Then do you care to explain the inexplicable need I have for you?”

“Hormones?”

It’s his turn to stare blankly.

“I’m just that awesome?”

He laughs at that.

“All I’m saying is, if fate brought us together, then fate is a bitch.” He raises his eyebrows at words, intrigued. “Imagine how much fate would’ve been responsible for, just to bring us together. The release of all the Defectives from the Institute, the death of Chad, the fact your sister chose to become a cop
and
was assigned to Tina who got beaten up while she was off duty… there’s just too many variables to say that that was all done so you and I could be together.”

He’s still smiling. “You’re cute when you’re trying to make a point. You can believe what you want. I know differently,” he says cockily.

Smiling, I just stare into his eyes, take in the look of adoration on his face, and savour this moment.

“So you’re
not
a cop,” I eventually say.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“And you never lied. I mean, not technically. Thinking back, I realise you never once told me Jenna was a journalist.
I
said it, and you didn’t dispute it.”

“You’re really not angry about the whole Jenna thing?”

“It’s not like you had a choice. And you never lied about yourself.”

“Actually…” he says, taking a step back from me. “I did, once.”

I swallow, hard. “Oh?” My voice is groggy. My heart starts pounding. What else did he lie about?

“I told you that I’ve never been in love. I may not have known it at the time, but that was a big, fat lie. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you.”

I smile before hitting his chest, pushing him farther away from me, “You jerk!”

He laughs, stumbling backwards. “I tell you ‘I love you’ and you’re hitting me?”

“I thought… when you said you’d lied, I thought it was about something serious,” I say, telling my heart to slow back down.

“I couldn’t be any more serious,” he says, closing the distance between us again.

He brings his lips to mine, and I let him kiss me as hard and as intense as he wants to. I don’t push him away, I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. I’ve never felt this wanted, this
needed
, this loved. I have an inexplicable need for him, too.

I know Chad and I had something special, but I feel like it was situational love – the kind of love between two people who had been through similar experiences, endured the same hardships. We were thrown together, forced to find comfort in each other, and we fell in love. I loved Chad, so much. I still do. A part of me always will. But I yearn for Jayce.

“I love you too,” I murmur against his lips, surprised by how easy the words come. When I pull away, my eyes find his chest, watching my fingers as they play with the top button of his shirt. “When Chad died, I thought that was it for me. I didn’t think I was going to find anyone who could be there for me the way he was. I was pretending to live without actually living. I wasn’t expecting to find you, and even when I did, I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about you – to fall so hard, so fast. You made me want to live again.”

“I don’t think that was me,” he whispers. “You could probably thank Zac for that as well.”

“Huh?” I screw up my face.

“While you were trying to work out who could possibly be threatening you, you practically started glowing, like you had a purpose, like you were doing what you were born to do. I may have helped you want to live again, but actually doing it? It was all you. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

He smiles before taking my mouth with his again. I don’t know how long we stay like that, lips locked in a state of euphoria, but we only stop when we’re interrupted by Jenna.

“We can take you to the hospital now,” she says, a smile gracing her lips. “I’ve got some clothes for you to change into, too. I’m sure you don’t want to be wearing that blood-stained gown anymore,” she adds before walking off.

“So what happens now?” he asks, his arms still wrapped around me.

I almost state the obvious – that I go to the hospital to make sure Tate’s okay. Then I realise what he’s actually asking. Technically, I still have a fiancé. One who was shot last night. One who doesn’t deserve to be my friend, let alone fiancé. I can’t let Paxton manipulate me anymore, but with the campaign, and the publicity aspect of what happened last night, I’m not so sure it will be easy to get away from him.

Ugh.
Now I’m even thinking like him. Who cares what the media thinks?
You do, Allira.
I sigh at my thoughts. The truth is, I do care what the media thinks, because Paxton getting shot – and by a Defective, no less– is only going to isolate the Defective community even more.

“I don’t know.”

“Want me to come with you to the hospital?” Jayce asks.

I nod. “I want you to come everywhere with me.” I wince. “Eww. That came out way cornier than I was expecting.”

“I like corny.”

“You would. You believe in fate.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Where’s Drew?” I ask Jenna as she opens the door to a squad car, motioning for us to get in.

“He was released earlier and sent to the hospital for treatment,” she replies in an obviously forced casual tone. I’m guessing she’s trying to hide the fact she’s worried about him.

“He’ll be fine,” I reassure her. “He may end up with a crooked nose, but it should’ve been illegal for him to be that good-looking in the first place. This will just be karmic justice.”

She cracks a smile, but I can tell she’s just being polite. She really is worried about him. Either that, or she truly thinks he won’t speak to her again now that her secret is out.

I pause to look at her before getting in the car. “Jenna, I of all people know what it’s like to be betrayed like that, but I think it’s completely different. Yes, you were investigating him and started seeing him under false pretences, but you never arrested him – in fact you cleared him of any wrongdoing. You didn’t destroy his family. You didn’t sit by and watch him get tortured for days. If I found it in my heart to forgive
him
, he should be able to forgive you. And I plan on yelling at him if he doesn’t.” I smile at her, and she returns it – a real smile this time.

“You’ve been hanging around Jayce for too long. Stop reading me,” she says lightly before practically pushing me into the car.

Jenna and Jayce are silent all the way to the hospital. I’m not talking either, but it’s not for lack of trying. I need a distraction, but they’re not giving me one. I keep telling myself that until I know anything for sure, Tate will be fine, Paxton will be fine.

It annoys me that I still want Paxton to be okay. I may not want anything to do with him anymore, but I don’t wish him dead. I have no idea why – I should want him to suffer, just like he made Tate suffer, just like he made Chad suffer. I guess a big part of me does, but there’s a stronger part of me hoping he pulls through for Nuka’s sake.

“Nuka,” I whisper when I think about what this all means for her.

“She’s with her nanny,” Jenna says, thinking I was asking about her. “They’re at the hospital.”

I narrow my eyes, realising she may know more than she’s letting on. “You know something, don’t you?”

“We’re almost there. I think it’s best you hear it from the doctors yourself.”

My hand starts trembling, Jayce grabs hold of it to try to calm me, and it helps a little, but I can’t stop my mind from thinking the worst. They’re both gone.

My legs feel weak climbing out of the car when we arrive at the hospital. Jayce takes my hand again, and I use him to steady myself. The simplicity of the three-story building makes me wonder how it can be so intimidating. And that’s when I notice the media waiting outside.

My hand releases Jayce’s, flying to my side in an instant. But it’s too late.

“Miss Daniels!” one of the reporters shouts. Within seconds, a swarm of news crews converge on me.

Questions are thrown at me. “Where were you when Candidate James was shot?” “Why haven’t you been here?” “Is it true you were having an affair?” “Is that your boyfriend?”

I furrow my brow, screwing up my face at that one.
How did they know?

“Just keep moving, Allira,” Jenna’s voice is in my ear. Both Jayce and she wrap their arms around me, protecting me from the encroaching crowd.

The doors to the entrance slide open as we near them, and suddenly I want to run the other way. I don’t want to go in there, but I can’t go back through the throng of media either. The only way is forward.

Jayce must feel it when my whole body stiffens with anxiety. “It’s okay. I’m here for you,” he whispers in my ear.

They usher me inside, and Jenna stalks off to talk to the receptionist. I wait patiently, still in Jayce’s arms. When Jenna’s done, she starts leading us down a hallway.

As we get closer to the intensive care unit, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more elated than when the thoughts of everyone around flood my head.

“Tate’s alive,” I gasp with relief, my legs wanting to collapse underneath me.

“How do you know?” Jayce asks. “Oh, right. Telepath thing.”

Where are you?

‘Ward B, Room twelve, bed two,’
he replies.

Are you okay?

‘I’ll live. You should visit Paxton first.’

No. He doesn’t deserve it.

‘Allira. Don’t hold a grudge against him for whatever he’s done. Now’s a time for forgiveness.’

Why should I forgive him?

‘Because if you don’t do it now, you won’t get another chance. You need to let your issues with him go.’

What’s going on?

‘Just go to him first, okay?’

Okay.

Jenna turns to me as we near the end of the hallway, coming to a T section. “Tate’s room is down that way,” she says, pointing to the left. “Paxton’s is this way,” she says, pointing to the right. “Where to?”

“Right,” I say, surprising both Jenna and Jayce. “Tate told me to go to Paxton first.” I tap the side of my head.

We turn right, and Jenna pushes a button to open the glass ICU doors.

Jenna leads me to Paxton’s room, but I freeze just outside the door.  “You can go in, I’ll go find a doctor for you to talk to,” she says, walking off.

“Did you want me to come in with you?” Jayce asks.

I try to talk, but only air comes out. I nod instead. What am I going to see when I walk in there?

My feet take reluctant steps into the room. My nose is assaulted with that strong hospital smell, making my eyes sting and my stomach feel queasy. The sound of machines beeping and a ventilator huffing oxygen fills my ears. All I can do as I reach the foot of his bed is stare at him. He’s unconscious with tubes coming out of everywhere.

A plethora of emotions fill me. Hate, anger, compassion, and grief consume me.

There’s a knock at the door, and a doctor in a lab coat walks in with Jenna behind him. He’s in his fifties and has a thick greying beard and glasses.

“Hello, Miss Daniels,” he says, reaching to shake my hand. “I know this is a difficult time for you, but there are some things to discuss and decisions to be made.”

“Decisions?”

Jayce comes up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders in a comforting manner.

The doctor seems distracted by the move before he continues. “As Paxton’s only family, you have power of attorney over his medical decisions.”

“But we’re not… we’re not even married yet,” I say, confused, taking a step away from Jayce in a move of political correctness. The doctor is still staring us both up and down.

“The only blood relative Paxton has is his six-year-old daughter. You don’t expect her to make this decision, do you?”

“What decision?” I ask again.

“Your fiancé is currently in a coma. The machines are breathing for him. His brain scans show little activity…” The doctor continues to talk about things I don’t understand. I don’t know what half the words mean. All I’m getting from it is Paxton doesn’t have much hope. “I can give you a moment to think it all over,” he says as he finishes his spiel that sounds like he’s said it many times before.

“So you’re saying I have to make a decision on whether to leave him in a coma and hope that he wakes up, even though the chances of that happening are small, or to switch off the machines and let him go,” I clarify his words.

He nods. “Keep in mind that with little brain activity, if he does pull through, he won’t be the same person. We can’t be sure of the amount of damage sustained to his brain just yet, but chances are he’ll most likely need help doing the simplest of tasks – and that’s best-case scenario. You have to think about what Paxton would want.”

“He’s a fighter. I know he’d want to fight for his life, for Nuka.”
That’s understating it.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” the doctor says. “I’ll give you a while to think about it, and I’ll come back and see you during afternoon rounds.”

He leaves, and I’m left stunned and overwhelmed. I can’t make this kind of decision. But if I don’t, who will?

“Could I have a moment alone with him – to think this over?” I ask Jayce and Jenna.

Jayce kisses me on the cheek. “We’ll be right outside,” he says, leading Jenna out of the room.

Taking a seat in the chair next to his bed, I just stare at him for a long time. He doesn’t even look like the man I know… the man I
knew
. He looks almost villainous, even in the vulnerable state he’s in.

It’s only now that I realise this is the man he’s always been, I’ve just been too blind to see it – too wrapped up in my own crap to really notice who I was living with. I trusted him completely, I thought I was doing right by everyone.

I’m interrupted by a nurse coming in to check on him. She gives me a sympathetic look, putting her hand on my shoulder. “You know, they say that even in a coma he may still be able hear you. It helps if you talk to him.”

I smile politely, waiting for her to do her thing and leave before I start ripping into him. I don’t care if he can hear me or not, I need to get this out.

“Why did you do it? Why did you set us all up? Why are you giving Brookfield money to live when he tried to take my life away? Why did you…” I stop to slump forward on his bed, grabbing hold of his hand that lies next to my head. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do,” I plead, tears starting to form in my eyes but refusing to spill onto my face.

‘He would’ve come after us. I’m not sorry.’

“You can hear me?” I ask, sitting up straighter.

‘Yes.’
His body doesn’t even flinch or register anything.

“So you
are
still in there?”

‘I’m weak. I can’t take much more of this. I keep telling myself to wake up, but I can’t. This is the end. I can feel it. Let me go.’
He’s silent again for a moment before I hear,
‘I was going to make a difference in the world.’

I try to contain my anger towards a dying man, but I can’t. “Make a difference no matter whom you hurt in the process? You almost killed Tate, Chad died because of you—”

‘Everything I did was for Nuka.’

The anger inside of me is urging me to stand up and pull the plug. If he didn’t just say Nuka’s name, I’m sure I’d do it. I want to scream, I want to yell. Paxton deserves it… actually he deserves so much more than that. He may have done so much good in this world, but he achieved it by doing evil things. He supposedly loved us like family, but he was willing to throw any one of us – me, Tate, the entire Resistance – under the bus if it got him what he wanted.

Can I really allow him to pull through this? If he does survive this, and he does need constant care, who will that fall on? I’m not going to spend my life caring for the man who was responsible for Chad’s death. I know I played a big part in that, too – I didn’t need to agree to Paxton’s crazy plan, but he manipulated every situation I’ve encountered since leaving the Institute. I feel like a used puppet.

‘Let me go,’
I hear him think again.
‘I don’t want to live like this. Let me go, let me go, let me go,’
he begs. I don’t know if he realises I’m still here or not. It almost sounds like he’s begging to a higher power or deity.

“I’ll let you go,” I tell him reassuringly.

‘Look after Nuka for me.’

My mouth goes dry as the weight of his request hits me. I wait for a few moments to try to compose myself before stumbling out of the room and into the hallway. Jayce and Jenna are sitting at the end in a tiny waiting room. Jayce sees me and rushes to my side, holding me up as I begin to feel faint and almost fall over.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Sorry, stupid question. Clearly you’re not okay.”

“He wants to die,” I whisper. Tears threaten to come, but they don’t, even though I’m not stopping them. Does that mean I’m not sad over him? Should I be sad? I don’t know what to feel anymore. I wrap my arms around Jayce and bury my head in his chest.

‘He’s awake?’
Jayce thinks, probably more to himself than me, but I answer him anyway.

“Not awake,” I say.

“Oh. So he can still think and hear?” he asks, pulling back to look at my face. I nod solemnly. “So you’re letting him go?”

“It’s what he wants. He asked me to take care of Nuka,” I say. Not wanting to look at Jayce’s reaction, I bury my head in his chest again.

Jayce doesn’t say anything, and I don’t want to hear his thoughts, so I try not to focus on him, but they come through anyway.
‘Surely there’s somebody else who could take her.’

I pull back and glare at him as realisation crosses his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I understand why he’d want you to take her, but you’re so young. You’re only twenty, and he’s asking you to be responsible for a six-year-old?”

“I know it’ll be tough, but she doesn’t have anyone else. I have to do it.”

“Then we’ll make it work,” he says, wrapping me tightly in his arms once again.
‘I don’t know how, but we’ll make it work.’