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"Can I see her?" I ask, hardly daring to hope.
The nurse glances at the visitor log, and then back up at me. "I can see if she's awake," she says. "What's your name?”
"Hazel," I reply abruptly, offering the nickname she used to use for me when we were kids, after the color of my eyes. "Hazel Dalton.”
I could swear the nurse's eyebrows go up a little, but she doesn't complain, dialing a number on her phone and speaking rapidly into it. I swallow, praying my friend will understand the reference. That she'll at least hear me out.
Finally, the nurse nods, satisfied, and hangs up the phone. "Room 1005," she says. "Down the hall and to your left. She just finished dinner.”
"Thank you," I say, backing off and nodding discretely to Liam and Tristan, who are watching from the back of the room with trepidation. Understandable, considering they broke me out of this very hospital less than a month ago... but Theo has always been the one with the target on his head, and the staff likely hasn't been told to watch out for distant contacts from other families. Still, I catch myself holding my breath as we make our way down the hall, praying no one from Lucas's side is here. The idea of them coming to finish the job has crossed my mind more than once, but to my relief, the hallway is empty.
I hesitate outside the door, taking my time to collect myself. Liam snakes an arm around my waist and gives me a reassuring squeeze, while Tristan presses a quick but tender kiss to the top of my head. I shoot them each a look of gratitude, take a breath, and push open the door.
Callie Burns is sitting up in her hospital bed, hooked up to the same sorts of machines I’ve seen my fair share of in the past months. She's covered in bruises, her arm is in a sling, and one of her eyes is completely swollen shut. Her expression is inscrutable as we enter, mottled with blotches and cuts, but she doesn't yell at us to leave, which I guess is a good sign.
"Hey," I say after a long moment of debate, knowing anything else will be inadequate.
Callie scrutinizes me for a moment longer. “‘Hazel,’ eh?" she asks finally as I take a tentative step into the room.
"I'm glad you remembered." I give her a small smile that falters instantly. "I couldn't use my real name. It's too dangerous. And I..." I hesitate, my voice breaking as guilt overwhelms me. "I can't let anything else happen to you, Callie. It would kill me.”
Callie stares at me, her expression still unreadable, and my heart sinks. What the hell was I thinking, coming here to ask for her help after everything that's happened? By rights, she should be yelling for security right now, and I wouldn’t blame her for it.
Tentatively, I approach her bedside, unable to stop the tears that well up in my eyes at the side of her injuries. "God, Callie, I'm..." I shake my head, my lip trembling as I drop to my knees beside her. "I'm so, so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.” I shake my head, a tear escaping and running down my cheek. Callie's always been there for me, through thick and thin, even though I've done nothing to deserve it. Even before she knew about my family, she would have given me the shirt off her back. She was my only friend, and this was how I repaid her.
"I had no right to involve you in this," I say, hardly daring to look up at her. "I should never have asked you to feed me information on the gallery. I should never have called you in the first place. You..." I take a shaky breath. "You deserved so much better.”
Callie is still silent, staring down at me like she's never seen me before in her life. Finally she meets my gaze, and I see tears swimming in her eyes. That breaks me, and whatever reasoning I might have had for this—for any of it—goes out the window. I lower my head, unable to meet her eyes and see the hurt in them any longer.
"I should never have gotten you involved in this," I say. "I wasn't thinking about your safety.Fuck, I wasn't thinking at all. I can't even ask you to forgive me.”
That's when, finally, my friend speaks, and despite the pain written on her face, Callie's voice is astonishingly calm. "Tell me something, Vivian," she says.
I snap my head up. "What is it?”
She swallows and then takes an unsteady breath. "When Lucas attacked me, he got this… look in his eyes," she says. "Like he wanted to hurt me. Like he wasenjoyingit, like getting information was just a convenient excuse to torture me.”
I can feel my throat getting thick again as images of the nightmare he must have inflicted on Callie flood my mind. I don't dare to reply—I can't bear the thought of her shutting down on me now—so I only nod.
Callie's voice is still unnervingly level. "Was that the look he gave you?" she asks. "When he shot you, was that the way he looked at you?”
"Vivian—" Tristan begins, taking a protective step forward.
But I hold up a hand. "Yes," I reply in a whisper. "That was exactly the look.”
Callie nods slowly, a few tears running down her face. "I thought so," she says, meeting my gaze again. "Promise me we'll make him pay, Vivian.”
"Callie, I swear to you, we will," I reply.
My best friend looks at me long and hard, and then, slowly, she nods. "In that case," she says, "consider yourself forgiven.”
My breath comes out in such a strong rush that it makes me lightheaded, but the tears that fill my eyes this time are tears of relief.
Callie watches me for a moment longer before, miraculously, a twinkle returns to her eyes that reminds me of the best friend I used to know. "You were forgiven already, by the way," she adds, giving me one of her characteristic smirks. "Part of me just wanted to see if I could make you grovel.”
"I guess I had that coming," I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. "Are you sure you're okay, though, Callie? Really?”
Her smile fades. "I'm very muchnotokay, Vivian, but not because I'm mad at you; because I'm mad at your psycho fucking husband." A fire appears in her eyes. "We have to stop him. I just wish I knew how.”
