My heart was fucking breaking. I was the reason for it all. If I’d just called Calvin instead of going to Beth’s with a half-formed, dumbass plan, none of this would have happened. Was he even alive? No one would tell me anything. I just needed to be assured he was okay. Even if he never wanted to see me again, I’d be okay with that. As long as he wasalive.
“Sebastian?”
I had been prowling the hospital waiting room like an insane person but stopped at the sound of my name. I looked over, pushing up my glasses. “Quinn.” My heart dropped to my gut.
She motioned with a curt wave of her hand for me to follow away from the strangers in the room and down a quiet hallway.
I rushed after her. I had been awake for nearly two days straight and was fueled on nothing but coffee, adrenaline, and absolute fear. By the time Calvin had been rushed to the hospital and into surgery, visiting hours were long over and I had been told to leave. No one could make me rest, not Pop, Max—Jesus, even Beth came to my apartment to see I was tended to. I returned to the hospital that morning and stubbornly sat in the lobby, hoping,prayinga nurse or passing cop would feel bad for me and let me in to see Calvin.
“Quinn,” I said, and my own voice sounded very strange and far away.
She stopped and looked up at me, holding out her hand and taking a breath. “Why are you here?”
“Youknowwhy. I only want to know if he’s… no one will tell me anything.”
Quinn pulled her coat off. She looked dapper in a suit and tie. Goddamn, I was so tired. She looked back up while holding the jacket against her chest with both arms crossed. “Calvin’s okay.”
I let out a shuddering breath and had to grab the banister on the wall.
“You know, the boys all call him Mr. Invincible,” she pointed out with a small smile.
I closed my eyes, took off my sunglasses, and quickly rubbed them dry on my sleeve. “He’s really okay?”
“Yes. They took him out of the ICU already.”
I put my glasses back on and looked at her. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Quinn seemed to hesitate for a minute, looking back over her shoulder once or twice. “Look. I know that Calvin’s family is here now. They were notified last night.”
I thought of the photograph in Calvin’s box under the bed.
“But I can go speak to Calvin and get you permission to see him.”
I wanted that. More than anything. To see him alive and breathing and to apologize until I was hoarse, but it didn’t seem right. I couldn’t make him feel obligated to see me.
And that photo. Calvin’s expression in that picture nagged at me. An unhappy man. A man with secrets. I knew in that moment that his own family didn’t know he was gay.
What a nightmare.
“No,” I said, having to clear my voice. “It’s okay.”
“You sure?” Quinn asked in surprise.
I nodded and took a step back. “He needs to rest.” I paused. “Can I ask you a question? About the case?”
Quinn shrugged a shoulder and nodded. “Sure.”
“Duncan—”
“He’s alive. You didn’t kill him,” she interjected.
“Oh.”
Okay. Good. I guess.
“How did Calvin know where to find me?”
“They found one print at your apartment. It got rushed through the system and came back matching Duncan Andrews. He was convicted of assault against his great uncle a year or so back. The late Edward Andrews, I should say.”
