by Hart, Rebel
“Welcome back, hun. How are you feeling?”
Cecilia.
My stepmother was in the room.
My eyes lobbed over as her chair scooted across the floor. She came into view, her hand still holding mine. I heard the clicking of her manicured nails, the scraping of her Louis Vuitton heels against the floor. Even in the hospital, her hair was perfect. The perfect face of makeup. Contoured with precision and glistening against the expensive diamonds my father showered her with. Her clothes were designer, in the middle of the fucking night. Just like my father always wanted with his women.
Wait, it was still the middle of the night, right?
Cecilia didn’t say anything, so I didn’t strike up a conversation. Because while it was nice having her there, I was still disappointed that she wasn’t Rae. Where was she? Had my father scared her off? Holy fuck, if my father had scared that girl off, he’d be dead.
Once I could get out of this hospital bed.
My eyes slowly panned back up to the ceiling. Cecilia kept a grip on my hand, her grip growing stronger every minute that passed by. It didn’t shock me one bit that my father hadn’t surfaced yet. He was probably at work, doing some shit. Or taking work phone calls. Or booking their next vacation getaway.
You know, doing more important shit than tending to his son.
“Where’s Rae?”
Cecilia sighed, and it gave me all the answer I needed. I felt my blood boiling. My fucking father with his fucking antics. The beeping machines around me began spiking. Cecilia gasped as she stood up from her chair. She leaned over me, her hair curtaining us off from the rest of the world. I heard something beeping close to my ear before something warm dripped through my system, making me feel like I was damn near peeing myself.
“Is everything okay in here?”
“What happened? Why did he spike?”
“Let me check his vitals.”
Cecilia sighed. “I’ve already pressed the morphine button. Just give him a second. He’s a strong boy. Stronger than he should be.”
There was a sadness to the last part of that phrase. That last little sentence she tacked on there. I felt my eyes growing heavy as the drugs rushed my system. They settled my heartrate and my blood pressure back down. Nurses poked and prodded. They shone more lights in my eyes. One of them set themselves to the task of changing out my I.V. bag while another tugged on something that made my dick jump.
Shit. I had a catheter in.
Fucking grand.
“It’s okay. I’m right here, sweetheart. Can you still hear me?”
I swallowed. “Yeah, Cecilia. I can hear you.”
“Good. The nurses want you to stay awake through this morphine rush. So try to keep talking to me. What do you want to talk about?”
I want to talk about what the fuck my father said or did to Rae.
But, I settled on a better question. One that still required an answer.
“Where the hell is Dad?”
5
Raelynn
Michael hissed. “Rae, we have to go.”
I held up my hand as we crept through the hallways of the hospital. We dodged staff, racing around corners as I tried to get to Clint’s ICU room. I sure as hell wasn’t allowing his father to chase me off like that. I didn't give a damn how he felt about my being there or what he’d said to me to try and get me to leave. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t give a shit about his son. The only thing he cared about was his businesses. How much money he pulled in.
How hard he could sock his son in the fucking jaw.
Michael grabbed my arm. “Rae, stop.”
I ripped away from him. “If you don’t want to be here, then go. I’ll catch a ride back somehow. But I’m not leaving. Not until I know how Clint’s doing.”
“And if his father catches you sneaking about? If the doctors catch you?”
I shrugged. “What’s he going to do? Hit a girl?”
Michael’s face fell and I moved down the hallway again. Doctors had whisked them away to a room that had already been set aside for Clint after he came out of surgery. Which meant things didn’t look very good. I wanted to know how the surgery had gone. Or was going. Or whatever his status was. I’d waited for almost two hours to find the opening I needed to sneak through those metal doors. To get back to Clint. To see if I could pick up on any information I wanted. Anything to soothe my worried soul. I wanted to know exactly the kind of condition he was in. But when I saw Clint’s father pacing up and down the hallway with his cell phone stuck in his ear, I paused. Taking in the scene. How apathetic and unapologetic the man looked.
And the kicker was that it didn’t shock me one bit.
“No. No. I need you to do it the way I said for you to do it. You’re costing us money. And a great deal of it. I won’t be paying your paycheck if you don’t do as I ask!”
His father’s voice boomed down the hallway and I shook my head. I peeked back at Michael, watching his face fall. Then we hid around the corner of the empty hallways of the hospital as I tried my best to listen to what his father was saying.
“Is that man really doing work right now?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yep.”
We tucked ourselves away, hiding as a doctor came around the corner. We pressed ourselves into a dark space, and I even held my breath so no one would hear us. The doctor passed, leaving the hallways bare and empty again. We clamored right back up to the corner. Right back to where we’d been.
I watched as the doctor approached Clint’s father, and even I could see the frustration in the doctor’s shoulders as they tensed.
I watched his father hold his fucking hand up to the doctor, telling him to hush while he continued working. I wanted to strangle the man myself. I wanted to beat him into oblivion so he could know exactly how he’d made Clint feel all these years.
Then his father finally put his phone away.
“What’s going on with my son? Will he be okay?”
Michael murmured, “Like he cares.”
“Shh!” I said curtly, turning my attention back down the hallway.
“Sir, your son is going to be okay. Surgery was touch and go there for a while, but we fixed him up and he should be coming out of it at any second. This is the room he’ll recover in for a while. We wanted to go ahead and get him moved so we could hook him up to the pain medication he’ll need. Your son will be in a great deal of pain for a few hours.”
His father sighed. “How long will he have to be here? I’ve got a trip planned in a couple of days I really don’t want to cancel.”
Michael snickered. “He’s really being serious, isn’t he?”
I rolled my eyes. “If you don’t shut u—”
The doctor shook his head. “I’m not sure if he’ll be out of here in a couple of days. Three, maybe. If things go very well. But not under forty-eight hours. Your son sustained a great deal of trauma. And, there’s a criminal investigation open right now, since it’s pretty clear your son was run off the road.”
Clint’s father’s eyes fell beyond the doctor and I knew he spotted me. Even as I tried to hide behind the corner, I heard his footsteps tearing toward me. Michael grabbed my arm, pulling me down the hallway as the footsteps came around the corner. And as his voice thundered down the hallway, all eyes were on us.
“What are you doing?”
Michael froze before I slowly turned around, watching Clint’s doctor appear beside his father.
“I’d like to know the same thing, actually.”
I sighed. “I just wanted to know how Clint was doing.”
The doctor furrowed his brow. “And you are…?”
His father snickered. “No one important.”
I glared at Clint’s father. “I’m his girlfriend. I’m the one that found him. You said he’s going to be okay, Doctor? Like, really okay?”
Clint’s father stepped up to the plate. “He needs space. From you. Because I have a feeling you got him into this mess in
the first place.”
I shook my head. “That isn’t what happened. Those boys approached us, sir. We had nothing to do with it.”
The doctor held up his hand. “This sounds like a statement for the police in the E.R. waiting room. Where the two of you should be.”
“Please,” I begged, “I care about Clint. Deeply. And I’m worried about him. I don’t have to see him. I just want to know what all he needed work on. I know his nose was broken. I think his shoulder was dislo—”
“Back off and let us handle this. Now. Before I have you escorted out.”
I snapped back. “Or you’ll what? Slug me like you enjoy slugging your son?”
His father lunged at me, causing Michael to step in front of me. His father began ranting. Raving. Screaming down the hallway as the doctors and nurses held him back.
“You don’t know shit about how this works! You don’t know a damn thing! Get the hell out of here before I have you arrested and put in handcuffs and charged with attempted murder, you stupid little girl!”
Michael groaned. “Did you really have to spit that out?”
I pushed him away. “Maybe now someone will investigate it and arrest that man for all the things he should be thrown into jail for.”
“Sir, calm down, or you’ll be escorted off the premises.”
“Sir, I’ll have to sedate you if you don’t stop.”
“Get that girl out of here. She’s not welcome around my son any longer!”
Tears rushed my eyes as a woman poked her head out of the recovery room. And when my eyes landed on Clint’s stepmother, sorrow filled her face again. She mouthed how sorry she was to me. And for a moment, I thought maybe we understood one another.
Until someone grabbed my arm.
“You can’t be back here if you’re not family. I’m sorry, but romantic partners don’t count. Come with me before you get into any more trouble.”
I freely went with the nurse as she led me back out into the E.R. waiting room. And as Michael came up behind me, I started gathering my things. I’d lost my shoe along the way somewhere. Also, my phone. I picked it up and headed for the exit doors, not bothering to hear what Clint’s father was still screaming down the hallways. People stared. Some gawked. Others eavesdropped in order to get their daily dose of gossip. I hopped out of the E.R. doors as I put my shoe on, then tucked my phone away in my bra.
As silent tears streaked my cheeks.
Michael placed his hand between my shoulder blades, silently leading me toward his car. But all I wanted to do was go and sit by Clint’s bed. I couldn't stand this. I couldn't stand not knowing. What all did they have to do in surgery? How many stitches did he have? What kind of medication was he on? Would he fully recover? Would he be able to ride his bike again, if he wanted?
I needed to see him. Touch him. Place my ear against his heart and still hear it beating. I needed to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he really was all right.
But his father wouldn't even give that to me.
I mean, what else did you expect, Rae?
Michael opened up his car door for me and helped me in. He closed the door, and I leaned my forehead against the cool glass. I let the sounds of the world fade into the background as I watched as the hospital disappeared in the rearview mirror while we drove away. I moved and weaved with the twists and turns Michael took. And after he pulled up to a drive-thru menu, his voice pierced the silence.
“You hungry?”
I shook my head, but my stomach betrayed me with a mighty growl.
“Medium Coke, large fry, and a chicken wrap?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
I didn’t even bother moving to get my wallet. I knew Michael would insist he pay, so I didn’t fight him. I didn't have the energy to, anyway. Part of me wanted to turn this car around and storm back into that hospital. Part of me wanted to spew everything I’d witnessed regarding Clint’s father until that man was in fucking handcuffs.
The only thing that stopped me was Clint.
Because I wasn’t sure if that was something he’d want me to do.
Michael paid for the food and handed me my bag. I sat up enough to reach for my drink before mindlessly sipping on it. The food stayed by my feet as he pulled into a parking space in the empty parking lot, pulling out his burger to devour.
Then I heaved a heavy sigh.
“None of this shit is fair.”
Michael swallowed hard. “You just have to be patient. There’s a reason why hospitals have rules like this. It’s to protect the patient.”
I scoffed. “And if the patient’s father is an abusive dickweed?”
He shrugged. “Maybe the comment you made and how riled up his father got will prompt them to look into it. But, for right now, all you can do is hang tight and wait until Clint gets out of the hospital.”
“Maybe his stepmom will reach out to me.”
“By the sounds of it, she won’t even be here in a couple of days.”
“I mean, who’s going to sign for Clint’s discharge, then? Isn’t that how that works?”
Michael shook his head. “At eighteen, a kid can sign for their own discharge. He’s eighteen, right?”
I nodded. “He is, yeah.”
“Then he’ll check himself out. I guess.”
“Such bullshit.”
“I know. But you can’t get so upset and frustrated over things you can’t change. It is what it is, and even though it isn’t good, it’s also not in your control.”
“And what was that thing about the doctor saying something about me talking to the police?”
“Oh, you were pretty out of it when we walked out of the E.R. When the police need your statement, they’ll find you.”
I sighed. “Great.”
I didn’t have the stomach to eat. Michael, however, inhaled his food. I wasn’t even sure he tasted it. And as he backed out of the parking space, I clutched the food between my feet. My mom hadn’t called me once. Not a single time to figure out where in the world I’d gotten off to. Which meant I was most certainly heading back to a house with D.J. in it. Michael made his way back to the school. And with each turn he made, I felt myself growing sicker and sicker in my stomach. Sipping on the Coke didn’t help. Smelling the greasy food on the floorboard of his car didn’t help, either.
“Stop the car.”
Michael slammed on the brakes. “What? What’s wrong?”
And as worry took hold, I threw open his SUV door. I leaned out, heaving in the middle of the road as we sat there in front of the high school.
Letting my body finally careen itself out of control as my stomach leapt into my throat.
6
Clinton
The question hung heavily in the room as Cecilia smoothed her thumb over my skin. I didn't know what day it was. What time it was. I felt disoriented. Drugged. And all I wanted to do was sleep.
Cecilia squeezed my hand. “Keep those eyes open.”
“Then tell me where Dad is.”
She sighed. “He stepped out for a little bit. Just… needed some air.”
I snickered. “You’re a terrible liar.”
She giggled. “That obvious?”
I lobbed my eyes over to take her in. Even though I couldn't move my neck.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.”
She sighed. “To be honest, I don’t do much of it nowadays, unless I’m with friends.”
“Then why stay?”
“Hmmm?”
“If you aren’t laughing, then you aren’t happy. And if you aren’t happy, then why are you still here?”
She shrugged. “I guess because it’s familiar. Because I do love your father. And because I do love you.”
“You don’t have to tell me what I want to hear, Cecilia. Just tell me the truth.”
“Why is that so hard for you to accept as truth?”
My eyes gravitated back toward the ceiling. The rush of warmth was gone, leaving me shiv
ering, even though I was covered in blankets. Cecilia stood up, tucking the blankets along my legs as she spoke with the nurses. My eyes finally slid closed as their voices wafted around me. I felt Cecilia patting my leg, forcing me to stay awake through it all this time. Part of it was endearing, and part of it was annoying as fuck.
Then, once the nurses left the room, she sighed.
“Just tell me where Dad is. Because all you’re really doing is confirming what I already know.”
She sighed. “He’s stepped out to make a few business calls.”
I snickered. “Of course he has.”
“Your father works hard. He’s got four different businesses under his belt. Three of which are booming right now. He’s got a lot on his—”
“I know, I know. His businesses are important. It’s to provide the life I’ve got now. That’s why he travels so much, because he loves me enough to provide for me. His love equates to money, and all that bullshit. You can spare me the lecture. I already know it.”
“He does love you, Clint.”
“Well, he’s got a shit way of showing it.”
My flat tone blanketed the room as Cecilia sat back down. I chewed on the inside of my lip as I lay there, practically trapped in this damn hospital bed. I didn’t know when the hell I was getting out of here, but I had a feeling Dad wouldn't even be around to help me with it. At this point, I was more prone to the idea of my stepmother staying behind and helping rather than my own father.
Who I hated even calling ‘Dad’ at this point.
I sighed. “That man is a basket case.”
Cecilia snickered. “I know.”
“Then why the hell did you marry him?”
She shrugged. “Because he made me laugh. He made me feel special. It was easy to fall in love with him, though sometimes I wonder if I ended up falling in love with someone more like my own father.”
I paused. “What do you mean?”