Chapter 6 - The Awakening
Back at the private hospital suite, the morning sun was just beginning to cast a pale, golden light across the Chicago skyline.
Cole sat in the leather armchair beside his mother’s bed. He hadn't slept. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw shadowed with dark stubble, but he hadn't moved an inch from her side.
On the floor beside him, Moose lay snoring softly, his massive chest rising and falling in rhythm with Martha’s breathing.
A soft rustle came from the bed.
Cole snapped alert, leaning forward instantly.
Martha Ashworth’s eyelids fluttered. Slowly, painfully, she blinked against the harsh hospital light. Her dry lips parted, and she let out a faint, raspy cough.
“Water...” she whispered, her voice barely a breath.
Cole was out of the chair in a heartbeat. He grabbed a small sponge, dipped it in a cup of ice water, and gently moistened her parched lips.
Martha’s cloudy, faded blue eyes focused slowly, shifting from the ceiling down to the tired, harsh face hovering over her. For a long moment, she just stared, as if she couldn't believe the man standing before her was real.
“Cole...?” she rasped, her hand trembling as she lifted it slightly from the blanket.
Cole caught her frail hand in his, pressing her cold fingers against his warm cheek, closing his eyes as a thick, hot tear finally broke free and spilled down his face.
“I’m here, Ma,” Cole choked out, his voice breaking for the first time in fifteen years. “I’m right here. I’m so sorry.”
Martha managed a weak, tired smile, her thumb brushing clumsily against his cheekbone. “I... I knew you’d come back eventually,” she whispered. “I told Moose... I told him my boy would come home before the winter took me.”
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Cole kissed her knuckles, holding her hand as if she were the most fragile, precious thing in the universe—because, against all odds, she was.
“You’re never going back to that place, Ma,” Cole vowed, his voice filled with a fierce, unbreakable resolve. “You’re coming home with me. Where you belong.”
