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Ian made it out with only a few scratches. Jenna had never known he left. He snuck out of the hospital while she was sleeping. She didn’t find out Tyler was hurt until she was discharged and settled in at home.
Ian wanted to deliver the news in private, so Chance and I watched Dylan and Kira at our house while he told her everything.
Unfortunately, Alejandro escaped, though no one knew how. Ian mentioned a secret entrance to the warehouse, but he wasn’t sure how he knew about it. I wasn’t present for those conversations, so I was in the dark, only knowing what I was told or overheard.
Today, Chance was up and walking around, but he was still processing the news of his future. While thankful everyone was alive, he was still shaken. And needless to say, a bit moody because he was using a cane.
We were sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying breakfast, when Ian showed up at the back door, letting himself in. Clutching a rolled magazine in his hand, he plopped down at the table across from us, tossing the publication in front of Chance. “You’re welcome, Hollywood.” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.
Chance studied the cover with a furrowed brow. I sat silently, letting him be the first to react to the headline.
CHANCE HARDWIN: LIFE-ALTERING CAR CRASH
“What?” Chance curled his lip. “Car crash? What the hell is this?” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“You can’t exactly tell people you got shot.” Ian leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “So, Luke and I came up with an alternative that would make sense as to why you can’t do your own stunts anymore and why you have a pimp cane. You don’t need any more bad press.”
With a struggle, Chance grabbed his cane. Reaching over, I tried to help him, but he waved me off, determined to do it on his own. I sat back, respecting his wishes in silence. I was proud of him for being so focused, but also, I wanted to help him. It was instinct. Limping toward the den, Chance grumbled, “I’m going to do my own stunts. Fuck that.”
Ian stood, grabbing the magazine off the table, and followed Chance. I followed as well. He spun around, wincing in pain, almost losing his balance.
“Why did you lie to them?”
“Chance,” Ian tossed the magazine on the coffee table, pressing his fingers to his temples, “listen to me.” Placing his hands on his hips, he creased his brow. “If you tell people you were shot, it will raise so many questions.”
“What about the staff at the hospital?”
“HIPAA. They’ll get in serious trouble. They can’t even tell anyone you were there.” He exhaled. “If it makes you feel better, Jake talked to them right before you were discharged.”
Shrugging, Chance rolled his eyes. “Is the article accurate?”
“What do you mean?” Ian folded his arms over his chest.
“The story I’m supposed to tell about my injuries. Did you at least give them a good story?”
“Oh.” Ian smirked. “Actually, I leaked the entire story as your imaginary Boston assistant. It’s a great read.” Nodding his head toward the table, he chuckled. “You might even congratulate me on my skills to lie to the press for you.”
“I’m still not happy about it, but whatever. I would rather you not go to prison, I guess.”
Ian shrugged, stroking his jaw. “That’d be nice, considering I have a wife and two kids.”
I had remained silent so far, not wanting to make things worse. Chance was struggling mentally, accepting the new normal. Ian was right, and I knew he needed me to take his side right now.
“Baby,” I hooked my arm in his, peering into his agitated gaze, “Ian’s looking out for you and him both.” I pointed to the magazine. “Don’t you think it’ll be much easier to answer a simple question about a car accident than to have millions of people wondering how you got shot?” I lifted my chin at Ian. “And they’ll have reporters at his door in seconds, which will make their fam a target for more than just Alejandro.”
Chance grumbled in defeat. “Fine.” Just then, his phone rang. He slipped it out of his pocket, reading the caller I.D. aloud. “It’s my agent. I have to take this.”
Limping out of the room with his cane in one hand and phone in the other, he disappeared. Ian and I exhaled a deep breath simultaneously. I nodded at the chair behind him, but he lifted his hand.
“No, I have to get back to Jen and the kids.”
“How is she doing today?”
“Every day is a struggle for her.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “She feels guilty for being happy about Kira when Ty’s in the hospital fighting for his every breath.”
“She shouldn’t feel guilty.” I clutched my chest. “Should I bake something and go over there?”
A small smile inched onto his face. “Mila and the kids are over right now, but she’d really like that. You know she loves your oatmeal raisin cookies.”
