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Nine years ago—Hospital, Richmond
At first, I think the beeping is from the tour bus parking in yet another city. I try to open my eyes, but something makes me hesitate. I’m not on the bus or backstage somewhere. I am lying in a bed.
Everything comes into focus. The IV in my hand and the buzzing and beeping from the machines hooked up to me. The oxygen tube in my nose makes it easier for me to breathe. Everything reminds me of the stories about my mom being sick, fuck I hate hospitals.
My brothers are quietly talking to each other as they lean against the wall. I turn my head to the right and notice Frankie sleeping with his head on Evan’s shoulder, who is still in his army greens reading a novel.
Someone pinches my hand. “Honey, you’re awake,” Dad whispers, brushing my hair back, his eyes red. “Squirrel, you had us worried there.” He sniffles. My eyes fill with tears. The boys stir, and in a heartbeat they are standing around my bed.
“What happened?” My voice is a raspy whisper.
The door opens and all the guys look up when Austin walks in. “Allie, you’re awake,” Austin says, stopping by my bedside, brushing away a stray tear from my face.
Navarone is nowhere in sight. Where is he?
My hands move down to my stomach. “What happened?’’ I ask again.
“Honey, you ...” Dad’s cheeks are wet from his tears.
A pain I never experienced before spreads out in my heart. Everything probably reminds him of my mom lying in her hospital bed.
Then Navarone walks in. He has a black eye. The stitches on his face form a red line to his jaw.
“Navarone?” I whisper.
In an instant, Axl and Evan have to restrain Gunner, who takes a swing at Navarone.
“Want to get another black eye, fucker?” Gunner roars. Everyone is shouting at each other to calm the fuck down.
What is happening? I remember clocking Navarone in the face with the bottle. After that, nothing but the pain in my stomach. Why are they screaming at each other?
I desperately look between all the men in my life for answers. Frankie grabs my hand, reassuring me. Axl pulls Gunner away from Navarone, slamming my brother against the wall before saying something to him in a hushed angry voice.
“Can someone tell me what happened, is the baby okay?” I ask, my voice still hoarse.
Frankie shakes his head, brushing his hand over my forehead.
“I need to see her,” Navarone says, while my dad holds him back from my bed.
Evan lays his hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Jack, let him go.”
Dad shakes his head, pushing Navarone against the wall. I’ve never seen my dad this mad before. “It was one thing you marrying her in fucking Vegas when she was barely legal. But you promised you would take care of her, and what did you do, you piece of shit?”
“Jack, I ...” Navarone’s voice is filled with hurt.
Dad pushes Navarone up higher against the wall, gritting his teeth.
Rone looks like hell. His eyes are red, he has a runny nose, and his body is shivering. I know he needs a drink.
“Daddy,” I whisper.
Everyone is still shouting, filling my head with noise while the memories dance before my eyes: the way I felt during the day. The stream of blood running down my legs onto the white sheets. The piercing pains. Knowing I made a huge mistake. Navarone, who held me while I fought to keep my eyes open.
His voice is the reason I stayed awake. He kept shouting at the paramedics, demanding to know what was going on.
And I know. Fuck, I know, I’ve lost our baby.
The guys are still shouting at each other. All look at Navarone with hate in their eyes.
