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“Right.”
“Hell, Gav. He’s a grown ass man. And didn’t you say he went to tell his parents he’s gay?”
More nodding. “Yep.” I rub my thumb over my stone, back and forth, back and forth.
“Maybe they had a lot to talk about,” Hawke muses. “Maybe it required a few drinks so he crashed at their place.”
“Maybe,” I reply, my fingers moving over the stone in circles.
“Can you fucking relax?” Hawke snaps, scowling at my fidgeting.
“Sorry. I’m just… you know. With the stalker, and… and the finger…” I begin squirming again, jiggling my leg to keep from screaming.
“Hey,” Hawke prods gently, why don’t you try his phone again?”
“Good idea.” I hit redial, fully expecting the voicemail to kick in again. Instead, someone actually answers. A female someone.
“Hello? Hello? It says this is Gavin. Is this Gavin?”
My mouth gapes open and closed a few times before I find my balls and speak. “Yes. Who’s this?”
“Thank god you called,” the woman gushes in relief. “This is Mitch’s friend, Sasha. I couldn’t figure out how to unlock his phone to call you. I was just about to get one of the hackers at the bureau to do it for me.”
My blood runs cold at the flustered sound of her voice. “What’s going on?”
“I think you better come here. I’m at George Washington University Hospital. Mitch has been shot.”
The phone slips out of my hand, clattering to the coffee table. I vaguely register Hawke picking it up and speaking to Sasha, then nudging me out the door and down the elevator. Somehow, I find myself in yet another car, on my way to see Mitch, completely numb from head to toe.
Mitch—my boyfriend, both fake and real—has been shot. When I realize I didn’t ask Sasha what condition he’s in, whether or not he’s going to die, I begin to honest-to-god lose my shit. My breathing becomes rapid and clipped, air struggling to get to my lungs as the reality of the situation hits me.
I’m in love with Mitch Hale and he might not ever get to hear me say it.
Mitch
“Hey, he’s awake! Phillipa! Robert!”
My eyes blink open to dim fluorescent lighting. It takes me a few minutes to focus.
“Sasha?” My voice cracks, my throat raw and painful, as if a cat tried to claw it’s way out, leaving dozens of gashes behind.
“Mitch, sweetie. Don’t move.” She puts a warm hand on my shoulder, looking down at me with a concerned expression.
“What’s—? Why are you here?” I move to sit up and gasp, the air sucked right out of my body. Fire rips through my chest, literally so painful I fear that I might tear in half.
“Shhhhh, stay s
till. Oh fuck,” I hear her say. My eyes squeeze shut as I struggle to hold back a scream. A loud beep is followed by Sasha shouting. “Hello? Can someone get the hell in here?”
“Jesus, Sasha, it fucking hurts…” I groan, panting. Sweat trickles down the side of my face to the pillow beneath my head. “What the fuck…? Mom? Dad?” I’m struck dumb by the sight of my parents hovering over me. “But you—? Fuck!” Agony crashes through my body, nearly causing me to black out from the intensity. This time, I can’t hold back the scream.
Underneath the searing pain, something ice cold enters a vein in my arm. Then… bliss.
***
“I don’t care, Robert. The truth doesn’t matter. Either way he’s our son.”
“So you’re okay with it, Phillipa?”
