"Sorry, I would have been here sooner, but some stuff had to be dealt with." He sounds cryptic. I don't care enough to ask what he's talking about.
He has a bag with clean clothes for me and a phone charger.
"I tried to call you a couple times, but it just went right to voicemail, so I figured it was dead. Your parents have called me a few times. I'm pretty sure they'll be here, after they arrived in New York to find you gone. Thanks for surprising me like that, by the way."
"Shit," I groan.
Brian raises his hand in defense, "Hey, I tried to tell her to wait a week, but she wouldn't hear it. You’re lucky she waited this long, especially with Sam being found."
I drag my phone from my pocket and plug it in. Before I can even unfold the sandwich and take a bite, the screen lights up. It vibrates with messages, edging off the table.
We've taken over the small waiting room.
Brian pushes a few chairs together to make himself a makeshift couch to lie back in, “Didn’t get much sleep last night.” I nod, surprised no one else has come in here.
"What floor are we on?" I question, while crunching through a bag of chips.
"The second," Brian answers, not looking at me.
With Sam now in stable condition and my mind able to process I ask, “Where is he? I'm assuming he was in the lead ambulance."
Brian looks up from his phone, "Yeah, that was him. He was shot in the abdomen when he went for his weapon. They happened to catch him outside of the house."
It doesn't escape me that he didn't answer my question.
"Is he dead?" I ask while wiping my mouth with a napkin. The food hits my stomach like lead bricks.
When Brian doesn't answer I look over at him in question. He sets his phone down on the small end table beside him and gives me his full attention.
I glare at him, and he sighs, “He's not dead. He made it through surgery last night, and he's awake and recovering today." His face is screwed up in distaste at his own words.
I frown, realizing he's probably right here in the same hospital. She hasn't even woken up yet, and he's already recovering.
"Beau," Brian says, sounding cautious as I stand up. “He’s being guarded by the police. He's not going to walk away from this." Brian's up, gripping the top of my shoulder, ready to put me in a hold again, if needed. "I know you want to rip his arms off man, but wouldn't you rather be here with her, instead of in prison for killing that piece of shit?"
I rip away from his grip, “It’s not right. He shouldn’t be able to go on. Not after what he did to her.”
I am shaking again, with unspent rage. My hands fist at my sides. There’s nothing I can do. Brain is right. I need to be here with Samantha. I need to be present when she is ready to wake up.
I walk over to an empty corner of the room, needing space.
"I'm fine," I finally say when Brian plants himself in the chair right next to the door.
“You’re not,” he simply replies.
"He should have never made it out alive," I confess, not feeling guilty at wanting him dead.
"Yeah Beau. Some people don't deserve to breathe."
We sit in silence with Brian still guarding the exit.
An hour or so later an older woman in a pantsuit walks in and approaches me.
"Mr. Huntington, I'm Rebecca Wright. I'm here on behalf of the hospital and its staff.”
I stand, tense and unsure why she’s here.
“We wanted to assure that you and Miss West are receiving the utmost care. I'm also here to let you know that she'll be in a new room, a private room, once she returns from surgery”
