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“How the fuck is that lucky? She’s lying in a hospital bed!” I bite off the last syllable and give the doctor a menacing look. He takes an uncertain step back and glances down both sides of the hallway. “Shouldn’t you have better news? You’re a fucking doctor. Do your job.”
Dr. Masterson stiffens. “There’s no need to take that tone with me, Mr. Blackthorne. I can assure you that everyone is doing the best they can to make sure Ms. Julis is comfortable—”
“I don’t want her to be comfortable,” I snap, my voice climbing higher and higher with each word. “I want her out of this goddamn place and back home with me where she belongs. Am I making myself clear?”
Sam materializes next to us and steps in between the doctor and me. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Masterson. As you can imagine, Carter is pretty distressed right now because of everything that happened.”
“Don’t tell me how I fucking feel,” I snap, leveling Sam with a withering look. “And get out of my way.”
Sam folds her arms over her chest and holds my gaze. “So, is this your plan? Are you just going to take down anyone who gets in your way? Then what? It’s not going to make Isabella wake up, and it certainly won’t change anything that happened.”
I punch the nearest wall, and Sam flinches. “Why the fuck are you still here?”
Sam straightens her back. “Because Isabella is like my sister, and I care about Tristan. If you want me to leave, you’ll have to throw me out yourself.”
A long and tense moment passes while a muscle works in my jaw. Finally, I spin around and turn my back on Sam.
“What about the baby?” Sam’s voice is barely above a whisper as she talks to the doctor. “Are they okay?”
“The baby is fine,” Dr. Masterson murmurs. “We’ll need to keep a close eye on them both over the next few days, but we do expect them to make a full recovery.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
I hear footsteps walking away, and I count backward from ten.
Slowly, I turn back around to face Sam, who is giving me an incredulous look. “You’re supposed to be out there, making the world a safer and better place for Isabella and the baby.”
“Excuse me?”
Sam points a finger at me and bristles. “I’ve had to deal with weeks of Isabella trying to decide what to do with no help from you. All you do is push her away and hurt her.”
“Stop talking.”
Sam lifts her gaze up to mine. “I will not. Someone has to speak up for Isabella since she isn’t awake to advocate for herself or that poor baby—”
I cross over to Sam in two strides, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to lash out. Whatever pain I inflict, it’s never been on a woman. Not outside of the bedroom and not someone who my cousin cares about.
“I would watch what I say next,” I say in a deceptively soft voice. “Do you really want to fucking push me right now?”
Sam’s mouth hangs open.
For a long moment, I wonder if she’s going to push me. And I’m almost nervous to see how far she’s going to take it.
Abruptly, Sam snaps her mouth shut and takes a few steps back. She doesn’t say anything as she brushes past me and makes a beeline for Tristan’s room. After a brief pause, I hurry after her, keeping a wide berth of space between us. At the end of the hallway, Sam pauses to toss her hair over her shoulders. She straightens her back and pushes the door open.
Through the slit in the door, I barely manage to make out Tristan’s face as he sits up.
His smile isn’t one I’ve seen before, and it only grows when Sam leans over the bed and throws her arms around him. He pulls her to him, and she stumbles forward. After an awkward pause, the three of them burst into laughter, with Paul draping his arm over his brother’s shoulders. Together, the three of them make quite the sight.
It makes something low and tight unfurl in the center of my stomach. A part of me can’t bear to see them so happy when my Isabella is still in danger.
But the other part of me knows that if anyone deserves happiness, it’s Tristan. And I’m glad he’s found it with Sam.
With a slight shake of my head, I spin on my heel and walk away, taking a series of twists and turns till I reach the double doors of the emergency room. They swing open, and a blast of cold air hits me directly in the face. I inhale and pause on the sidewalk, trying to think past the tightness in my chest.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a flicker of movement and turn toward it.
A vague silhouette stands in the distance, a cigarette dangling from his lips. I cross over to him, my footsteps light and soundless. When I reach him, the dark-haired stranger stares at me for a little longer than I’d like. I hold my hand out, and he pats his pocket. He holds out the cigarette pack and waits for me to take one. Wordlessly, he hands me the lighter, and when it flickers to life, his features come to life, revealing a long-crooked nose, moss-green eyes, and thinning hair.
