What are you doing here?” I mean to ask them all, but I’m staring at Lance.
“I heard about your mom,” Lance answers. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay, so I borrowed Lily’s car and drove down.”
I close my eyes to hide the sting of tears that erupt behind my lids. Maybe it’s because I’m overtired and physically beat up. Or it’s because I just spent an eternity in the shower, questioning every relationship in my life, and I come out here to find them. And the truth is, Joey and Parker have been there for me all day, without complaint, no matter how ungrateful I’ve been in return. And now …
“Hey, it’s okay,” Joey soothes.
I feel his arm wrap around my waist, and I roll into him. I didn’t think I could cry any more than I already have, but my tears are apparently endless. And this onslaught of emotions has hijacked my body. I don’t make a sound as I hide my face in his chest, his arms embracing me with such gentleness; it’s like I’m made of glass and could shatter under too much pressure.
“Why don’t you lie down? It’s been a really messed up day. We can call the hospital and let your mother know you’ll be there later.”
Sleep sounds amazing. And I want nothing more than to close my eyes and put this entire morning behind me. It’s barely after noon, and today has surpassed the worst day of my life in only a few hours. I still have an entire afternoon and night to get through. Maybe I can avoid whatever disasters are ahead if I’m not conscious. My chaos can’t find me there.
I blot my face with the cuff of my sweatshirt and ease away. Joey releases me but stays close.
I face Parker. “Do you know if she’s okay?”
Parker looks solemn—or maybe guilty. He shakes his head. “My calls go straight to voice mail. Even on Tori’s phone.”
I can’t stand any longer and walk to the bed. Bending to sit makes the bruises protest. My face does a lousy job at hiding the discomfort. I can see it reflected in all of their expressions.
“Let me see,” Parker requests. “We need to know how bad it is.”
I let out a breath, trying to decide if it’ll make a difference. I’m not going to the hospital to get treated, no matter what. But I also don’t feel like arguing. I lift my sweatshirt along with the tank top underneath.
“Shit,” Lance breathes out.
Parker’s face hardens, and Joey looks like he’s in as much pain as I feel, especially when I adjust so they can see the bruise on my side too.
“What the hell happened to you?” Niall booms, walking into the room.
I quickly pull down my shirt. “What are you doing here?” I mean, I know he lives here. But shouldn’t he be in court, or at his office, or anywhere but here?
“I called him,” Joey confesses, avoiding my what-the-hell glare. “He needs to know what’s happening, Lana. He can protect you, especially if Nina decides to press charges.”
“She won’t,” I protest. “If she wanted me to get taken in, she wouldn’t have told me to go when we heard the police coming.”
“But what about her family? Or a witness? Police are going to ask questions,” Joey argues. Someone’s been working with his father too much this summer.
Niall assesses the room—me propped up on the bed. Joey standing next to me like a sentry. Lance and Parker seated at the foot of the bed, Parker’s hand cupping my foot. “I need to speak with Lana—alone.” None of them are bold enough to defy him verbally, but they don’t make a single motion to move either. Niall exhales in the way that he does, letting us know that he’s not happy, but he’s not going to fight it either. “Tell me what happened. All of it.”
My eyes search each of the brother’s faces; they nod encouragingly.
“There was someone in my house when I went to get my mother’s medication. It doesn’t look like he took anything, but he may have done something to her meds.”
Niall’s eyes tighten, but otherwise, his face remains emotionless.
“Anyway, he kicked me to escape. And Parker wasn’t able to catch him before he jumped a neighbor’s fence.”
Niall directs his attention to Parker. “Did you get a look at him?”
To my surprise, Parker shakes his head. I wasn’t sure if they were going to go along with my decision not to name Vic … again. Or maybe he’s not technically lying because he really didn’t see his face.
“And then you assaulted Nina?” Niall inquires. “I thought she was a friend.”
“Exactly. Was.” I lower my eyes and absently pick at a fingernail. “She …”
“Nina thought Lana and I were together. It was a misunderstanding. She got jealous and, um, went after Lana,” Parker finishes when words fail me.
“Wait. They were fighting over you?” Lance clarifies, chuckling.
We all scowl at him, and he sweeps his gaze to the side, sealing his mouth shut.
Niall rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and shakes his head. “We’ve talked about this.” I’m not sure who he’s addressing until he focuses his attention on Parker.
“I know,” Parker says, clearing his throat. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t clear like you’d told me to be. And you’re right; it came back and kicked me in the ass.”
“Or Lana’s,” Lance interjects.
“Do I need to ask you to leave?” Niall admonishes Lance.
His youngest son bows his head like a scolded puppy. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. He’s practically pouting.
“How bad is it?” Niall asks, sobering me instantly.
I swallow before answering, “I stabbed her.” I watch for a reaction, but he waits calmly for more. “I didn’t mean to. But she pulled a knife. I tried to get her to drop it, but she wouldn’t let go, and … it went into her.”
Niall breathes in deeply through his nose, contemplating. “You were defending yourself. You’re not at fault.”
I actually didn’t consider that. Guilt overrode any legal implications.
“Where’s the knife now?”
“In my pants pocket.”
“You took it with you?” Niall asks in a tone I can’t read. But it’s not an approving one.
“Was I … not supposed to?” I look among the brothers again, but they’re not any help with their shrugs and clueless expressions.
“And where are your pants?”
“In your bathroom.”
His eyes flash to the closed door. “Leave them there. I’ll reach out to see if an investigation has been opened and whether she’s cooperating.”
“Can you find out if she’s okay?” I practically beg, my voice cracking.
Niall’s stern blue eyes soften. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, I’d like you to get checked out by a doctor. I can have one come to the house. I want to be sure there isn’t any serious damage or internal injuries. Those bruises concern me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off, “It wasn’t a request. I’ll phone Olivia and let her know that you won’t be able to come back to the hospital until this evening, but then you’re returning to Blackwood tonight. This town is not good for you, Lana. And the faster I get you out of it, the better.”
Niall leaves soon after, and the boys stand awkwardly, unsure what to do next.
“Do you need anything?” Joey asks at the same time Parker says, “I brought your things in …”
I notice the overnight bag and the wooden box set on a regal, blue and white striped chair in the corner of the room. The backpack with my things in it is still in the bathroom.
“Would you mind grabbing my backpack?” I ask Joey. And then I thank Parker.
“Want to watch a movie?” Lance offers, prepared to jump on the bed next to me.
Parker grabs hold of his shoulder. “I think Lana should get some sleep.” He looks to me. “We’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” Parker guides Lance out of the room as Joey returns with my things.
“Do you want it? Or should I put it on the chair?”
“I want the p
hone,” I tell him.
He sets the backpack on the bed. I reach in and pull out Blackwood’s phone, not the one I intended to grab. A message appears before I can drop it back into the bag, so I keep hold of it and retrieve the other.
“Thanks. I figured I should call Nick myself, so my mom doesn’t worry.”
“Nick? My uncle … I mean …”
“Yes, him,” I answer with a heavy breath.
“Was that what the dinner argument was about?” Joey’s eyes widen like he’s seeing it in a completely new way.
I nod. “Mostly. Before you get the wrong impression, my mother didn’t steal him away or anything. They were already separated, and, well, Cassandra—”
“Was just being Cassandra,” Joey finishes, shaking his head in disapproval. “She’s always been a little dramatic. And self-centered. And vicious.”
“Oh, is that it?” I laugh lightly. “She sounds delightful.”
Joey grins. “Well … I’ll let you get some rest. Not sure when the doctor will be here, but I’ll bring him up when he arrives. Oh, and just so you know, I spoke with Mrs. Pixley. Allie’s stable. She didn’t go into detail about what happened, just something about Allie’s brain activity. But she’s still with us.”
I blink to keep the incessant tears from draining out of my eyes. I almost never cry, and suddenly, I can’t shut them off. This summer has broken some sort of emotional dam inside of me. It’s annoying. I clear my throat, which has decided to get all choked up too. “Uh, thank you … for everything.”
“We’ll figure this out, Lana. You’re not alone.”
I smile weakly. The phone in my hand flashes with another text, drawing my attention. Not ready to respond just yet, I abandon it on the bed.
When Joey leaves, I call Nick. I’m evasive and vague but say I’ll be by to see her later. They’re still waiting on the test results anyway. He promises to call when they know anything.
Then I open the notifications on the Blackwood phone. “Holy shit.”
Before I can read any of the million texts from Grant and Ashton, the other phone buzzes in my hand, causing my heart to skip a beat. The incoming call is unknown. My skin prickles with sweat. I’m prepared for it to be someone from the hospital calling to tell me my mother has something seriously wrong with her. But it’s even worse than I feared.
“What the hell is going on? Why are you in Sherling?”
Brendan.
“Who told you?” Then I remember who I’m talking to. “Oh, right. I’m surprised you don’t have the results of my mother’s bloodwork already. Maybe I should have waved to you from Allie’s room.”
Brendan is deathly silent.
“What do you want, Brendan? I don’t have patience for your bullshit. It’s been a really bad day.”
“We’ll talk when you get back,” he says, his quiet tone cold as ice. Then he hangs up.
I yank one of the pillows off the bed and scream into it. It hurts every muscle in my core, which makes me scream again.
The door flies open.
“What’s wrong?”
I lift my face from the silky white fabric and find Lance in the doorway, ready to … I don’t know what, but he looks like he’s expecting to slay a dragon. When he realizes it’s just me and a pillow, he relaxes.
“I just got off the phone with Brendan,” I explain.
He nods dramatically, like he completely gets it. “I’d be screaming too.”
I let out a short laugh. “Were you … like, hovering outside the door?”
“Uh, not really. My room is across the hall. And I may have had my door open in case you needed anything. Or something happened. Like Brendan calling.”
“Thanks, Lance. But I’m good.”
“I have more pillows,” he adds, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder. “Let me know if you need them.”
“Will do.” I smile gently.
“Okay then.” He swings his arms, backing up awkwardly. “I’ll be … across the hall.” And then he finally closes the door.
I slink down into the bed and stare at the ceiling, releasing a heavy breath.
“Lana?” A warm, soft hand runs along my cheek. “Lana, Dr. Holly is here.”
I blink my eyes awake to find Olivia bending over me with a comforting smile on her face.
“Sorry to wake you, but we want to make sure your injuries aren’t serious.”
She knows? Of course she knows. I have a feeling theirs is a marriage without many secrets. Maybe that’s why they’re still so close. Secrets have the power to crumble castles into sand.
I ease up, determined to keep a neutral face so she doesn’t know how much I want to howl in pain. But from the crinkle between her brows, I’m not doing a good job faking it.
A petite woman with a dark-haired pixie cut and square glasses shielding dark green eyes stands by the end of the bed. She’s wearing a navy-blue cardigan sweater over a white blouse. I would never guess she’s a doctor. But I suppose doctors could potentially be anyone, even someone with a warm smile and twinkling eyes, who looks like she might be a kindergarten teacher on the side.
“Hi, Lana. We’ll let you get back to sleep in just a moment. I heard you were attacked earlier today.” She sets an old-fashioned black doctor’s bag on the mattress next to my feet. “I’m sorry that happened to you. How are you feeling about it?”
“Angry,” I answer without a filter. “Really fucking angry.”
Olivia blinks. I suppose if she teaches others how to become therapists and counselors, she should understand the power of honest answers. Dr. Holly has a slight grin on her face—that surprises me.
“You have every right to be angry,” she says to me, plugging a stethoscope into her ears. “Now let’s take a listen.”
The exam isn’t long. She listens, presses and pokes. Has me pee in a cup and stand in front of a screen, which must have been set up in my room while I was asleep, to take X-rays. Never knew they had portable X-ray machines until now. Or that doctors actually made house visits.
“I’m tempted to have you go to the hospital for a scan to rule out internal bleeding, but the X-rays indicate nothing’s broken. I believe your kidney’s bruised, and there isn’t much that can be done for that. I’ll give you something for the discomfort. It’ll take a couple weeks to recover—no contact sports or fighting during that time.”
I raise my brows, wondering how she knew. She nods toward the scraped and red knuckles on my right hand.
“Oh. Right.”
Olivia has remained quietly in the room the entire time. I’m afraid to look over at her, not sure if she’ll be able to refrain from judgment, no matter how professional she’s been.
After everything is packed away, Parker and Joey enter to carry the X-ray equipment downstairs.
“It was nice to meet you, Lana,” Dr. Holly says, setting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s time to heal. And I don’t just mean your body. Allow Dr. Harrison to help you. She’s good at what she does.”
She leaves us alone. I shoot Olivia a quick glance out of the corner of my eye, still unwilling to face her.
“We don’t have to talk now. But please, let someone help you, Lana, even if you decide it’s not me. There’s a lot going on in your life, and you have every right to your feelings. But I worry about how you choose to express them.”
I cave and finally lift my eyes to her.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you. Not ever again.” She moves to stand in front of the door, her hand on the knob.
“Is that what you’re doing for my mother? Helping her sort out her feelings?” I ask, a thread of anger in my words.
“I’m being a friend. She needs one she can trust, and I’m trying to be that for her,” she answers with patience, making my defensiveness disengage.
“Then where have you been? She’s needed you,” I say, my voice faltering.
“I know,” she answers quietly. “I was respecting her wishes, no matter how hard it w
as to do so.” Olivia opens the door. “Get some rest. I’m going back to the hospital. But call me if you’d like to talk about what happened. It would mean a lot if you let me be there for you.”
I nod, unable to find words to respond to her sincerity. I’ve never had an adult choose to take care of me before. Not like this. My grandmother wasn’t an overly affectionate woman, and the only emotions she expressed were to tell someone off or impassion her daughters or me with lectures on how to stand up for ourselves and not be taken advantage of, especially by men. She wasn’t a bad person. Just damaged. She wanted us to be strong and thought the only way to do that was to be the hardest rock. And with pressure, we would harden as well. That’s how diamonds are formed, after all. Or at least that’s what my aunt Helen would say.
Since Grandma’s death, I’ve created walls and edges to protect myself, becoming more and more like her. And as much as I loved her, she lived a lonely life. Her daughters moved out as soon as they were of age. The only reason my mother stayed was because she needed someone else to raise me. And even then, she lived upstairs in the tiny attic apartment to escape my grandmother’s anti-patriarchal rants.
The only time my grandmother ever took off her armor was when she read to me. And when we celebrated my birthdays. She’d go out of her way to make the day about me, like she was trying to make up for the rest of the year—and my mother’s absence for the majority of my life. She taught me a lot, and I am grateful for her candor. I know she tried and did her best. And I miss her so much. But I never learned anything about love. Not from her.
Love was what my mother shed tears in the name of. Love was an adoring smile turned cold over time. Love was words meant to flatter but then became silent when affections weren’t returned. Love manipulated and coerced. Love demanded and took without permission. Love destroyed lives.
But being in this house for the past couple of hours has shown me a world that I believed was only fictional. This family loves each other unconditionally. And apparently, no matter how many times the boys screw up, their parents keep loving them. I’m also pretty sure they hope their sons learn the necessary lesson and don’t do it again—but they still love them, no matter what.
The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew Page 20