by Liz Talley
“Mr. McCroy?” someone asked from beside him, but he couldn’t pull his gaze from the boy lying on the stretcher. David was pale, his shirt covered in puke, his hair plastered to his head. The doctor ran a clear tube down his son’s throat. David didn’t move. He was completely passed out.
“Huh?” he managed, turning to look at the woman standing beside him.
She had a clipboard in her hands. “Yes, sir. I need to get some information.”
Irritation buzzed. “I can’t do that now. My son is . . . I can’t do that now.”
“We don’t have to leave your son. Just let me get some basic facts, okay? Like how old is your son?”
“Fourteen. God, he’s just fourteen.”
The woman droned on with her questions as he watched a nurse start an IV on his son and cut away the ruined shirt. Another aide mopped his face, cleaning up the foamy froth that had clung to David’s chin. The boy was thankfully unaware of what was happening to him.
When the Easterlys had called to tell him his son had drunk too much and he needed a pickup, Hunt had intentionally sat on the news. He wanted to put eyes on David before he scared the hell out of the kid’s mother. After all, David had been at the get-together for just over an hour and a half. How he’d drunk enough in such a short period of time to pass out didn’t seem feasible to Hunt.
But when he got there and saw David, he knew it was serious enough to warrant a 911 call and leave Summer a message to meet him at the hospital.
According to Hal Easterly’s son, someone had given David vodka. Lots of it. When Hunt had arrived and found David passed out against the barn, he’d felt vomit rise in his own throat. The boy had thrown up all over himself. He was barely conscious, his breathing shallow. Foam had leaked from his mouth, freaking Hunt out. He’d called the ambulance and then gotten Hal to help him carry the boy to his truck. The other teenagers had stood around, some weaving noticeably, and watched solemnly as he carried his son away. Hunt wanted to shake them all until their teeth rattled, ask them why they would give a freshman that much booze.
“I’m sorry about this, Hunt. I had no idea they had all that liquor. I tried to do a pass every now and then, but I didn’t see nothing. I mean, they had Solo cups, and I thought I may have smelled beer, but hell, they’re teenagers. I had no clue they were doing all this,” Hal had said, looking freaked out himself.
The older man didn’t seem to have a clue what kids did these days, and though Hunt knew some of the fault lay with David, he couldn’t help the anger that spilled out of him. “You shouldn’t have them out here if you can’t watch them. My kid is foaming at the mouth. He wasn’t even here for two hours. You need to shut that shit down,” he said, fighting against the panic as David moaned.
“I know. I’m sorry. Take the boy to the hospital. I’ll clear everyone out.” Hal didn’t seem overly concerned, but then again, his kid wasn’t passed out with puke all over him.
The ambulance met them at the end of the long drive. Hunt lifted David from the passenger seat, and the two EMTs took over, placing him on a stretcher and checking his vitals. David was able to open his eyes and follow the light, but as soon as he did, he rolled to the side and threw up.
“At least he’s vomiting. It’s the ones who don’t that scare the hell out of me,” the female EMT said, swiping at his son’s face, cleaning the puke from his chin and cheek. “We’re going to give him some fluids at the hospital. Follow us to the ER.”
They loaded his son into the back of the ambulance and took off, lights flashing. Leaving Hunt standing on the gravel road, wondering how in the hell this had happened.
Summer had been apprehensive about letting David go to the party, but Hunt had assured her David would be okay. He thought the kid would be okay, and he thought it would be good for David to hang out with some of the guys from the team. Become one of them. Be accepted by the kids who mattered. So Hunt had picked up David, fed him dinner at the Shrimp Shack, and then dropped him off at the Easterlys’. Hunt had even issued warnings about drinking or doing something stupid like messing with the bulls or jumping out of the hayloft. David had rolled his eyes like Hunt was lame, but he’d promised to stay away from trouble.
And look at what had happened.
“Mr. McCroy, the doctor will talk to you now,” one of the nurses said, gesturing him over to the bed.
“Hi, Mr. McCroy. I am Dr. Talton, and I’m taking care of your son,” the woman in scrubs said, extending a damp hand.
“Thank you for helping him,” Hunt said, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how this happened. He wasn’t even at the party long.”
“Unfortunately, this sort of thing happens far too often. I did my residency in Columbia, and we got a steady barrage of alcohol poisonings. These kids don’t know when to stop,” she said, pulling the curtain and moving Hunt away from the bay. “We went ahead and intubated. It’s not as serious as it looks, but complications can arise when they aspirate vomit, so best to keep his airway unrestricted and allow him to get oxygen. We’ve given him an IV to get some needed vitamins and fluids in him. Dehydration is a chief concern. We’re going to watch him overnight to make sure his body processes and rids itself of the toxins. He’ll wake up soon and we can remove the tube then.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Hunt asked, sounding shaky to his own ears.
The doctor shrugged. “He should be, but there can be some complications, depending on exactly how much he drank. High alcohol levels can damage the organs. But most people recover fine. Young bodies and all that, but I can’t promise you anything at this point.”
Then she left him standing outside the curtain, feeling like a man adrift in an inner tube on a vast ocean. And a shark coming toward him. Yeah, Summer would be here soon, ready to rip him a new one.
He pulled back the curtain and moved toward David’s bed. A nurse punched a couple of buttons on the IV cart and then moved around him, pulling the curtain open again. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Then she, too, was gone, leaving him alone with his son.
David’s lashes were long and lay in stark contrast to his pale cheeks. He looked so young, so vulnerable. Hunt felt his heart contract and emotion clog his throat. God, how had he failed so badly? He’d encouraged David to go, to hang out with the guys on the team. What kind of idiot encouraged his kid to go to a party thrown by upperclassmen? One who didn’t know how to parent. Obviously.
Was this a message from the universe? That he wasn’t cut out to be a parent? Why had he thought he could correct the mistakes he’d made in the past with the kid? Same ol’ Hunt. Always shitting himself when it mattered.
The curtain ripped back and Summer stood there, her face frozen in fear. “Oh my God. What happened?”
She pushed by him, setting her hand on David’s shoulder. Her eyes were full of tears when she glanced back up at Hunt. “Why’s he got that down his throat? Oh my God. What’s going on, Hunt?”
Hunt inhaled and exhaled. “I dropped him off at the party and went over to Jenny’s house to watch a movie. David was only there for about an hour and a half when Hal called me. I warned David about drinking. I had a talk with him, like you told me to.”
“How does this even happen?” Summer demanded, her face drawing into anger. “They’re all underage. He’s just fourteen. Who gives liquor to a fourteen-year-old? My God.”
“I know. I couldn’t believe it myself.” What else was there to say? He was angry, too. And disappointed in David, in himself, in Hal Easterly for not knowing what in the hell had been going on down by that barn.
“It looks bad. Why is he hooked up to all these things?” Summer asked, looking at the machine with the screens, beeping, showing his oxygen rate. She returned her attention to her son, stroking David’s cheek. “Oh baby.”
“The doctor said it’s just a precaution. He had a high blood-alcohol level, so they are giving him fluids. The tube is to keep his airway clear. He already threw up a bunc
h, but something about the gag reflex and aspiration, I think.”
Summer closed her eyes and tears leaked out, streaking her face. Hunt felt so bad for her. She worshiped their son, and he’d been hurt on Hunt’s watch. When she opened her eyes, he could see the hate in them. “I told you he shouldn’t go. This is on you.”
“Now, Summer, to be fair, I talked to him about this. We went over what happens at parties and how dangerous drinking can be. We remember how easily things can get out of hand, how easy it is to succumb to peer pressure and for things go a little further than intended.”
Her hazel eyes snapped with ire. “Yeah, things can, can’t they?”
“Summer, let’s not go there tonight. Not when our focus should be David.”
The curtain ripped back and Rhett stood there, breathing fast, as if he’d run the entire way. “How is he?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken with anyone other than Hunt,” Summer said, disdain heavy when she said his name. Of course she blamed him. That was her thing—blame everyone else for everything that happened. Hadn’t that been her MO with him from the beginning?
Rhett turned his gaze to Hunt. “I’m fixing to beat the ever-loving shit out of you.”
Hunt stepped back at the hate in his friend’s eyes. “What the hell for? I didn’t pour alcohol down the kid’s throat. I gave him a talking-to before he went to the party. I think we’re blowing things way out of proportion here. And I don’t even know why you are here. Why are you here?”
“I drove her here. And you’re full of shit, but that’s your way, isn’t it? Always an excuse, nothing to see here, not my fault,” Rhett said, his shoulders widening, his hands fisted.
Rhett Bryan itched for a fight, and Hunt was happy to give it to him. Just not in the middle of the hospital. But before he kicked Hollywood’s ass for interfering in something that didn’t concern him, he wanted to know why his former friend was so pissed. “What’s your problem, anyway?”
“Summer told me what you did to her on prom night.”
“Oh really?” Hunt said, clueing in to the rage in Rhett’s gaze. He’d thought Summer had finally let go of the old accusation, so it pissed him off she’d run her mouth to Rhett. Because, of course, Rhett thought he could set the world right. Rhett had always played Clark Kent and cast Hunt as Lex Luthor. So fucking lily-white pure . . . except Rhett wasn’t. Just pretended to be a crusader. “So she told you how she slept with me, regretted it, and then tried to accuse me of rape? ’Cause that’s what happened. She didn’t want Mom and Dad to know she slept with me, so she played it off as nonconsensual. It wasn’t.”
Summer shook her head and looked down at David. “You were right earlier. Now is not the time.”
Anger flooded Hunt. She always tried to make him the bad guy, delivering her little snide remarks and then taking the high road. Like she was better than him. He figured she liked being the martyr. She embraced the struggling single mother role for her own damned reasons. “Why not? It’s obviously been a point of contention from the beginning. I’m tired of you making me feel like I’m a criminal, Summer.”
“You are a criminal, asshole,” Rhett ground out between clenched teeth.
“This doesn’t concern you, Bryan.” Hunt crossed his arms and glared at his former best friend. “It’s none of your goddamned business. We’re the parents.”
“It may not be my business, but it’s time someone ironed you out, McCroy. You never see your faults. Everything is always someone else’s mistake. Never your own. You know the truth about what happened that night. Deep down under all your bullshit, under all your ‘I’ve been wronged’ pronouncements is the truth—you took what you wanted like you always do. Then you tried to twist everything to make yourself look like the victim. Classic Hunt McCroy.”
Hunt didn’t say anything because Rhett was fucking delusional if he thought Hunt had raped Summer. True, Hunt had been drunk that night. He remembered the tequila shots, the absolute jealousy he’d felt over Molly hooking up with that asshole she’d brought, and the softness of Summer’s body. But Summer had been fine with what they’d been doing, at least up until he’d actually penetrated her. Once it got a little uncomfortable, she changed her tune, but it wasn’t like he could stop. He’d tried to explain that when a girl was a virgin, sometimes it hurt a little.
Afterward, Summer had left the party and never talked to him again.
Until she found out she was pregnant, and then it had become date rape. She’d told her parents, they talked to their pastor, and some kind of bullshit mediation took place. The whole thing had been a huge snafu with threats of prosecution and ugliness prevailing.
“Rhett,” Summer said, her voice pleading. “Let’s talk about this later, okay? My priority right now is David.”
Rhett pulled his gaze to Summer and visibly softened. “Okay. Right.”
“Why don’t you get us some coffee?” Summer said. She looked like she was drowning and looking for someone to throw her a life preserver. Or just get her coffee. “Hunt, you want some?”
“I’m not getting him any,” Rhett said, sounding like the petulant boy Hunt remembered from the past. In a snit, the way he’d been the time Hunt had eaten the last of his birthday cookie cake. Or the time Hunt had drunk all the Bud Light and hadn’t saved any for Rhett.
“I don’t want it anyway.” Yeah, Hunt could be just as childish.
Rhett issued a hard look. “Sum, how do you take it? Wait, I know. Black.”
Then he disappeared through the curtain. The swoosh of the heavy material sounded like a message being sent.
“What did they say about David?” Summer said, wiping the tears. Her eyes riveted to their boy lying so still in the bed.
“They’re giving him fluids and watching him. Essentially the body will detox itself. They’ll merely observe him.”
“Are they going to keep him here? In the ER.”
“I don’t know,” Hunt said, watching her stroke their son. He watched her hands move, the way she looked so lost. Then he remembered Rhett and his words. Summer and her parents had agreed to not use that word—rape. So ugly. And so untrue. “Why did you tell him I raped you?”
Her head snapped back as if he’d struck her. She glanced quickly at David, as if to ascertain he was still out. Her stormy gaze found his. “Maybe because it’s the truth, a truth you don’t wish to acknowledge, but that’s what it was.”
“You know I didn’t force you. You came with me willingly. You let me do things to you. Stop lying and own up to the fact we were both drunk and irresponsible.” He made his words hard. He was so tired of this bullshit. Tired of her frosty looks, disdainful words, and politeness.
“You want to do this? Here?”
“Not really, but I’m sick of this thing sitting between us. I’m trying so damned hard to do the right things, to be a good father, to overlook the way you treat me every day, like I’m some pile of shit you have to step around. My family and I aren’t proud of ignoring David when he was younger, but I paid child support . . . and for your college.” As he said the words, he immediately regretted them. Too far. He’d gone way too far.
“You think I benefited? Because your family paid my tuition? You raped me—it was date rape, but rape all the same—and then walked away, ignoring me, your child, your mistakes, and you think I came out smelling like a rose? Are you stupid?” She left the bedside and moved toward him. In a very angry way.
He should have kept his mouth shut. But damn it, he tired of this constant wall between them. It wasn’t good for David, and it damned sure wasn’t good for them.
Summer stopped in front of him. “What don’t you understand about that night, Hunt? Are you telling me you thought it was okay to proceed when I said no? Or maybe you think that countering with ‘just relax’ was enough to make it okay that you stuck your dick inside me when I told you I didn’t want to have sex with you?” She vibrated with emotion, her hands fisted. She was a reckoning. Scary beautiful.
Fiery vengeance. She believed her words, and that gave him pause.
“You didn’t say no.” A woman could fake arousal, but Summer hadn’t faked hers that night. He remembered the eagerness in her eyes, how wet she was. And surprisingly how good she’d felt in his arms. She’d made him forget Molly and all the bad shit in his life.
She blinked, before tossing another glance at a still-sleeping David. “Are you joking? I said no. I said stop. I said I didn’t want to go that far. You didn’t listen. You gave me platitudes, told me I was overreacting, but you know, a gal kinda overreacts when she’s been violated, you asshole.”
“I didn’t violate you,” he said, sounding less convinced even to his own ears. “We were both drunk, and I get that it might not have been a good effort, but I remember some things, Summer. You could have gotten up and left when Rhett barged in, but you didn’t. You stayed. You kissed me back. You gave me permission with your body.”
Summer shook her head. “I was inexperienced. My first kiss ever was in that limo earlier. I had no other sexual experience, and I didn’t understand arousal, you ass. Fuzzy or not, you know I wasn’t into what you were doing. Or maybe the sobbing afterward didn’t clue you in?”
He felt like she’d shoved a screwdriver into his eye. “You were emotional. Upset about the flowers.”
“The flowers?” Summer shook her head, passing a hand over her face. Her eyes looked bright, the color in her cheeks high. “I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe this. You thought I was crying about the flowers?”
“You went on and on about the flowers. That I had ruined them. I remember that.”
Summer blinked against the tears, incredulity reflected in her eyes. “You’re the most obtuse man I’ve ever met. Your emotional scale doesn’t register past one, does it? I wasn’t upset about a fucking flower, Hunt. I was upset that you’d had sex with me when I emphatically said I didn’t want to. I was hurt that you’d discounted me that much. Even if I had given you consent, you slept with me and never acknowledged me again. You essentially told me I was worthless. And even after everything, after the pregnancy, the agreement between our families, me moving back here, you never once said you were sorry about what happened that night. You’ve never apologized for what you did to me.”