Page 114 of Mercy


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The nurse types on her computer for a moment, and I’m trying to read her face like we’re in a poker game. When her eyes widen just slightly, I almost snatch the computer off the desk to see for myself.

“He’s been admitted. They still have him in the ER. Have a seat, and I’ll have them check in with you. Are you family?”

“He’s mine,” I snap in a rush, and her brow furrows in response.

“He’syours?”

“My boyfriend,” I add, squaring my shoulders as I proudly proclaim it.

“Okay, well, if he has any family to contact, you might want to do that. As soon as we have any answers, we’ll let you know. Please have a seat.”

Have a seat? Impossible.

Leaning forward, I’m about ready to drop to my knees and beg. For him, I would. I’d crawl all the way across the California coastline if I had to. I just can’t…have a seat.

“Please,” I whisper, hoping she has the slightest amount of pity in her tonight. “Can you at least tell me if he’s okay?”

I fold my hands together, leaning hard against the counter. “Please.” The word is heavy on my tongue. “I’m desperate. If you’ve ever loved anyone, I’m begging you to please,pleasehelp me.”

Her head tilts to the side as she lets out a sigh.

“They brought him in fifteen minutes ago. There’s no update in the system, but I’ll poke around to see what I can find out, but no promises.” She adds that last part with a sternness as if to indicate she’s not showing metoomuch mercy.

“Thank you,” I reply, grabbing her hand on the counter and giving it a tight squeeze.

“You’re welcome.” As she gets up from the desk, I stand there like a statue.

I know what I need to do now, but there’s not a bone in my body that wants to pick up my phone.

Shakily, I walk outside, standing just near the doors as I hold my phone in my hands. As I think about Beau, I try to muster all of the courage and strength he’s shown me in the last two months. The things he’s had to face about himself and the guts it took to make those changes within himself were far scarier than what I’m about to do.

So, with that, I pull up Emerson’s contact.

My hands are trembling as I hit the phone icon to call, and when it starts ringing, I want to throw up. All of the tears held back by shock have finally burst through the dam and start flowing across my face. By the time I hear his tired and scared sounding voice on the line, I’m sobbing.

“Maggie,” he says with concern, “I heard what happened. I’m on my way. Are you all right?”

I suck in a wet, shaky breath. He’s on his way to the club. He thinks I’m there.

“You need to come to the hospital,” I mutter as I wipe at my wet face.

“Hospital? Are you hurt?”

“No…I’m okay,” I whisper.

“They told me you were with someone. Is he okay? Are you at the hospital now?”

“Emerson.” I say his name to stop his questions. To prepare myself for the next, horrifying words that are about to come out of my mouth. There is no going back from this. There is no way for me to remove the terror I’m about to cause him. It’s easily the cruelest, most evil thing I’m about to do, to tell one of my closest friends that his son is hurt and his life is at risk. It’s deeply harrowing and god-awful.

“Maggie, what’s going on?”

I sob again, the pain in my chest unbearable.

“It’s Beau,” I mumble, my heart starting to splinter with those two words.

There’s silence on the line before he replies in a cold, lifeless response. “What about Beau?”

“I was with Beau. That’s who…”

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