Hayden_Four Sons Series

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “Go home, Hayden. This doesn’t involve you.”

  “Yes, it does, man. You’re my brother. I told you to let me handle this.” I take a slow step closer, not wanting to set him off.

  “He was going to ruin Rowan’s life. If she found out what I did, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. She’d leave me.”

  I take another step. “No, she wouldn’t. She loves you.” I look at Jameson to evaluate the condition he’s in. He’s bleeding from his mouth and nose, one eye is swollen shut, and he smells like a bucket of piss.

  “She wouldn’t if she found out what I did. He was too dangerous to leave alive. I couldn’t put her at risk. He needed to die.”

  Jameson is wiggling from side to side, trying to loosen his binds. I’m worried he’s going to make a move forward and cause Nixon to accidentally pull the trigger. One more step closer. “Nixon, give me the gun. This isn’t the answer. Please. Let me handle this.”

  He turns to me. “Oh, it’s not? And what do you think the answer is? Cam called me. Said he spoke to a hysterical Katie. Seems you took off with a gun yourself. What did you plan on doing with it, brother?”

  Fuck.

  “Exactly. Don’t tell me this isn’t the right thing. We both know he needs to die. It’s the only way we go on.” He brings his focus back to Jameson.

  “Nixon,” I plead.

  “Go home, Hayden. Eric entrusted in you to do great things. I was the fuck up. He knew it. We all know it. I’m not right. I never will be.”

  “Nixon, that’s not true. Who gives a shit what Dad wanted? It’s not about him anymore. It’s about us. And us living our own lives now. Rowan needs you. Erica needs you. I need you. I love you, man.”

  My last comment jerks him. He turns to me just as Jameson leaps from the chair and tackles Nixon to the ground, trying to wrestle the gun from his hands. I pull the gun from the back of my jeans and aim at the ground. They’re moving around too fast, I can’t get a good shot. My finger compresses on the trigger, but I’m too afraid I’ll hit Nixon. My heart races and my palms become slick with sweat. I need to do something fast.

  Fuck!

  I race over to help Nixon when the gun goes off, the sound echoing throughout the small cottage.

  Nixon’s eyes widen. “Hayden,” Nixon says my name. His voice seems off. Distant almost.

  Time slows.

  I can’t pull my eyes away from Nixon’s.

  They scream fear.

  A sudden burning sensation in my gut causes me to look down. Blood expands from my stomach, a red dot growing like an ink stain. Time speeds up when I bring my hands to my abdomen. Red covers my palms.

  “Hayden!” Nixon barks, coming toward me, but he’s too late. I collapse to the ground, no longer able to hold myself up. The pain is excruciating. Like a ball of fire just exploded inside my stomach. Nixon leans over me, putting his hands to my wound to stop the bleeding. “Hayden, fuck. Don’t die, please, FUCK!”

  There’s more commotion. The door is open. More voices.

  Trevor.

  “Call 9-1-1!”

  Nixon is gone from my vision, replaced by Trevor. “Stay with us, son. You’re going to be okay.” I take solace in his words. I’m suddenly tired, so I close my eyes. “Stay awake. Hayden, you have to keep your eyes open, okay?” I want to. I’m trying to, but I’m so fucking tired. My arm feels like it weighs a million pounds, but I manage to lift it and wrap my fingers around Trevor’s wrist while his are over my open wound.

  “I’m sorry,” I croak, the words hard to speak. I start to choke. I’m struggling to get air into my lungs.

  “Don’t you do that. Don’t you fucking do that!” he yells at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeat, because I am. For so many things. If there is one thing I want them to know, it’s that I’m sorry for how I’ve treated them all. The hateful way I’ve acted with Trevor. My failed attempt at being a guardian to Camden. Maybe if I had been a better brother to Nixon, he wouldn’t be as fucked up. Maybe if I just accepted Brock for who he is, we wouldn’t have grown apart the last couple years.

  Suddenly, my other brothers are beside me. “Shut up, bro. You’re not dying.” Brock.

  “Yeah, I need you to sign off on my college shit. Gonna need you to live, okay, man?” Camden. I can hear it in his voice. He’s crying.

  The faint sounds of sirens ring out in the background. I’m hoping it’s okay now to close my eyes, so I do. The yelling and cries are mumbling together.

  I’m just so tired.

  Black.

  Chapter Eleven

  Katie

  I barrel through the doors of the ER and push past a crowd standing in front of the nurse’s station. “Excuse me, a man was brought in. Gun shot. Hayd—”

  “Katie.”

  I whip to my left to see Camden.

  “Where is he?”

  He walks up to me and takes my hand. “He’s in surgery,” he says and walks me to the sitting area, where I spot Brock and Nixon. Oh god. Nixon is covered in blood.

  “Surgery? Why surgery? What happened?” I look to each brother. No one responds. “What the fuck happened!” I scream in hysterics. I was with Lucy when we got the call. Trevor told her Hayden had been shot.

  “Keep your voice down,” Nixon finally speaks up.

  “Then talk to me. Someone, please.” I start to cry again.

  Brock stands and storms off. I look to Camden for some answers, then Nixon. “What are you hiding?” Nixon looks away. “Nixon, what are you—?”

  “Nixon?” Trevor’s voice cuts in. I turn to him, and the uniformed gentleman standing with him. “Sorry, but this officer needs to ask you a few questions.”

  Nixon looks at Trevor, and I swear they exchange a silent message.

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Mr. Pearson, my name is Dexter Forbes. I’m with the Tampa Bay P.D. Would you mind giving me a rundown of what happened this morning?”

  “My brother and I went to meet up at my cottage house off Lincoln Bay. He said he had gotten in a fight with his girlfriend and needed to talk. We walked in on an intruder trying to rob the place. He had a gun. I tackled him. While we were wrestling, the gun went off. My brother was shot.”

  “Oh god.” I cover my mouth. My stomach turns, and I keel over, struggling to get air into my lungs.

  “Mr. Pearson, did you recognize the intruder? Do you know what happened to him?”

  “No. I ran to my brother, and he got away. It all happened so fast, I didn’t pay much attention to him or get a good look.”

  “Would you know or have any reason for someone to target the house? Maybe a—”

  “That’s enough. His brother is fighting for his life right now. This all can wait,” Trevor breaks in, stopping any further questioning.

  The officer nods. “I understand. My thoughts are with you all. If you think of anything else, please give us a call. We have patrols searching the area. We’ll let you know any updates.” He hands Nixon a business card and leaves.

  His brother is fighting for his life.

  I can’t breathe.

  “Wh—Where did he get shot?” Please say in the arm or leg.

  Nixon’s face is sullen as he responds. “The stomach.”

  “No,” I gasp, losing my strength. My legs give out, and I collapse. Trevor is on me, lifting me up just before I hit the floor. “Is…is he alive?” I don’t know how I have the courage to ask a question I don’t want the answer to.

  “He was when they brought him in,” Camden says grimly.

  No. He can’t die.

  The sullen look Camden holds tells me he can’t guarantee he won’t.

  * * *

  “Tell me, or I’m gonna rip your cheap ass hair extensions out and shove them up your ass!” I scream.

  A set of hands wrap around me, pulling me away from the nurse’s station. “Let me go! I need an update! They need to give us a fucking UPDATE!” Camden doesn’t let me go until we’re seated back in the wa
iting room from hell. We’ve been here almost six hours, and all we’ve been told is Hayden is still in surgery. That was three hours ago. We don’t know if he’s alive. If he’s dead. Oh god. I begin to sob again. I can’t look at Nixon. He has yet to change out of his soiled shirt.

  “It’s going to be okay.” Camden tries to comfort me, but he doesn’t know that. Such a bullshit thing people say.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “No, but I do know Hayden is a fighter.” He squeezes my hand, his fancy watch glittering under the dull halogen lights above us. For a moment, I grow fixated on the way the second-hand tick, tick, ticks around in a circle. His thumb taps the back of my hand in tandem with the seconds, and it serves to calm me some.

  “Why do you love watches so much?” I ask abruptly—anything to drive my mind from what’s going on in surgery.

  Camden’s features grow stormy. The always smiling, happy young man mask he wears is gone. He blinks several times before saying, “I just do.”

  A whine of emotion escapes me. He sounds so much like Hayden, it hurts. “Oh God.”

  “Hey,” he says softly, returning to his normal demeanor. “Big, bad, and wild, remember? He wouldn’t take off on us this easily.”

  The nickname his brothers gave him when they were younger sparks so many memories, starting with our second encounter.

  “There you go again,” I say to him. He seems to keep losing himself in his thoughts.

  “Go where?” he asks.

  “In your head. Wanna talk about it?” I doubt he wants to confess all his problems to a stranger, but I feel far from that to him. It’s weird. I know I’ve only known him for a short time, but it feels like I’ve known him forever. “That’s fine. How about I just do what someone did for me once. It was a real life-saver for me.”

  “Oh? And what was that?” he asks.

  I don’t even think he realizes our hands are still connected. I lift them and say, “This.” He stares intently at our joined hands. I wonder if he can feel the small buzz between us. I follow suit and stare out at the water, being okay with the silence.

  “Katie?”

  “Yeah?” I turn to give him my attention.

  “Do you believe in fate? Things in life that are meant to happen?”

  I wonder what sparks this question. Is it everything that has happened in his life? Is it meeting me? Oh god, don’t be silly, Katie. He barely knows you. “I do,” I answer him honestly.

  “Do you believe in guardian angels?”

  I laugh, then shift my entire body, giving him my full attention. “Okay, you got me. What’s with the random questions?”

  He’s back to staring at the water. He takes so long to respond, I almost feel like he doesn’t plan to. Then, he turns to me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile and it does something to me. “Good. Because I have a feeling one day soon, you’re gonna fall in love with me. I’m irresistible, so it won’t be hard. And when you do, I’m going to ask you to stay and live out the rest of our days together just like they do in those cheesy, but oh so heartwarming fairytales.”

  Three months later, I called and asked for a leave of absence from my job, had my brother pack up most of my necessities and ship them to me, and locked in a six-month sub-lease on my apartment. It took me under a week to fall madly in love with Hayden Pearson. He always guilted me, saying I took so long to fall in love with him since he claimed he fell in love with me that day by the pool.

  “He’s going to leave me. He’s going to leave me.” I cry into Cam’s shoulder at the thought of Hayden never giving me the chance to prove to him how much I love him. Fate didn’t bring us together, not once, but twice, to have him leave me.

  “Stop, have faith in him.” He holds me to him. “You know, he never once stopped loving you. He was so hard on himself for what happened between you two. I think it’s why he’s been so cold the past few months. He never showed his feelings about what happened, but it was apparent he was hurting. He never got personal with me, but one time, he was pretty drunk having a fucked-up talk about my dad and you were brought up.” He goes into the memory.

  “Do you think Dad would have done what he did, knowing it was going to get his head blown off?”

  Hayden starts laughing and chugs the rest of his beer. “Damn, dude, a little morbid, don’t you think?”

  “How so? It’s what happened, isn’t it? He had it all and lost everything for her. I just don’t know what’s so great you’d risk losing your whole life.”

  Hayden gets quiet.

  “What? Would you ever sacrifice your life for someone?”

  “Katie. I would for Katie.”

  “He didn’t say anything else after that. He shut down. But the little glimpse of himself he gave me…I guess it told me what I already knew. He loves you like no other.”

  I’ve soaked his shirt. My tears are pouring from my eyes. I can’t breathe. “I love him so much. He accused me of not. If he dies, he’s going to die thinking I didn’t love him.”

  “Shhh...” He pats my back. “Let’s not get dramatic. Hayden is probably back there laughing at us all, eating green Jell-O. Chin up, kid.”

  I pull my head away and give him a crazy look for calling me kid. “You know I’m like ten years older than you, right?”

  “Yeah, but I’m what you call an old soul. One day, when I’m sitting in my seat in the oval office, you’ll remember this moment and think, man, that Camden Pearson was a wise man.”

  I didn’t think it was possible at a time like this, but I smile. “Thank you.”

  He shrugs, acting calm for us both. As if his own brother isn’t fighting for his life. The doors to the emergency room open and we both look to see Brock storm in.

  “Any news?” he asks as he approaches us.

  “Nothing. Not since the last time I texted. Is it done?” Camden asks.

  Brock nods. “It’s done.”

  * * *

  We’re going on nine hours.

  Nine of the longest hours of my life.

  Everyone is here. Lucy has Eva sleeping in her arms. Trevor, Brock, and Camden. Nixon left to take Rowan and Erica home to get Erica to bed, but has long since returned, changed and showered. Every once in a while, I glance over at Trevor. He’s in bad shape. Even Lucy’s calming touch isn’t settling him. I haven’t been around him to witness his outbursts, but now, I get it. He’s taking this very hard.

  I move my attention to Brock and Camden, who are in a heated conversation in the corner. Something is going on with those two. I’ve asked a billion times what the real story is. I know they’re lying. Everyone is. Even Trevor. I can’t take it any longer. I jump up and head toward them. I’m going to force them to tell me what really happened.

  “Just answer my fucking question. Did anyone see you?” Camden spits out to Brock, who shakes his head.

  “Who saw what?” I ask, and they both jump. “Something’s up. I’m not dumb. Tell me what really happened. I don’t believe for a second it was an—”

  “Pearson family?”

  I snap my attention to the doctor. He’s pulling off his hair cap and threading his fingers through his hair. He looks tired. Defeated.

  No…

  Everyone rushes to him, question after question being thrown at him.

  Is he alive?

  How did the surgery go?

  Can we see him?

  I want the same answers, but my legs refuse to move. I can’t hear him say those words. I can’t hear them explain he did what he could and he’s sorry for our loss.

  “Katie.” I hear my name being called. I snap out of it to see Cam calling me over. I numbly walk over to hear the doctor begin speaking.

  “The surgery went as well as could be expected. He lost a lot of blood. The bullet penetrated the abdomen. It didn’t puncture any internal organs surprisingly. He’s very lucky to be alive.” He’s alive. He’s alive. “We have him stable at the moment, but the next twenty-four to seventy-two
hours will really determine.”

  “Can we see him?” Trevor asks.

  The doctor hesitates before responding. “Yes, but for a short time. I will warn you, we had to put him into an induced coma. It’s just a precaution. To let his body heal.”

  Everyone asks to go in first. “Please, only one or two at the moment. And just family at this time.”

  Nixon reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me forward. “She’s his fiancée.” My eyes widen. I look to Cam and Brock. They should go first.

  Cam rests his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. He needs you more than us right now.” With a silent thanks, I continue to hold Nixon’s hand and follow the doctor through the wide hospital doors.

  * * *

  There’s never any preparation on how to handle seeing someone you love laying in a hospital bed, connected by tubes and monitors. He doesn’t look like himself. Pale, swollen. The doctor warned us before entering his room. The liquid they’re pumping him with is causing him to look bloated. Another precaution they’re taking. I hear a sound next to me, and realize Nixon’s grinding his teeth.

  “Oh, Nixon.” I wrap my arms around him.

  “This is all my fault. I did this.”

  “No, you didn’t. You didn’t shoot him.”

  “I might as well have.” His shoulders tense as I try to offer him comfort. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nixon show such emotion before. I can’t help feeling overwhelmed by his grief and anger. I begin to cry on him and he lets me.

  We stay like that for some time, until Nixon finally breaks away from my hold. “I can’t be in here. I…I’m gonna give you a moment.” And he’s gone.

  The room is eerily quiet aside from the beeping of the machine and ventilator. I pull a chair up to his bedside and sit. He’s so still, the rise and fall of his chest the only movement. His hand is cold when I touch it. I’m afraid to do anything else, worried I’ll hurt him.