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It’s hard not to be bitter, when all this could have been prevented if someone had listened just one of the times we brought it to Gavin and the lower-level execs we had access to.
“I don’t like the idea that he could still be around. You get what I’m saying? He’s a threat until we determine he’s not. We all know how you had Issac’s and Dexter’s backs.” Storm mentions the guys whose baby mama was in labor while we were stuck in a different building during the riot when I was injured.
A shiver runs down my spine. I still hate thinking about it, even after all this time. The fear and disappointment I felt realizing I’d blown my career was extreme for a while.
Luckily, I’ve got better things to focus on now.
“All right, it’s up and running. What am I looking for?” I ask to get back on track.
The next half hour is spent on speakerphone while Storm remotely accesses not just the image that was deleted, but every single photo on her camera.
“Some of those are our courting pictures,” I say, clearing my throat. “Don’t fuck them up.”
“Hey, congratulations,” Rook says, piping in from the background for the first time since he handed over the phone. “I was wondering if the stories were true.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “But my omega will literally smother me with a pillow if any of those pictures go missing. They’re the only ones we’ve got, except a few on our phones.”
“You don’t even have to say it,” Storm says, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure all women would have a similar reaction. I didn’t delete anything, just restored the recent deletes and sent myself copies of those, along with everything on the memory card. I’m going to set up my software to comb through and see if he comes up in the background of any of the others.”
“We planned to propose at the last show, but with everything that went down, we held off…” I swipe a hand over my face. Is it crossing a line to ask a favor of my boss? Possibly, but I really don’t care. “Could you make copies of the courting pictures and send them to me?”
Their laughter fills the line.
“Yeah, not a problem. Give me a couple of hours, and I’ll send them to the email you’ve got on file for contracts,” Storm says.
“Congratulations,” Rook says again. “Let us know if you need anything.”
I scoff. “A miracle to keep the press off our backs? Do you know if we’ll still be performing the New Year’s Eve show, or are you going to sub us out?”
“Fuck, I don’t know about that. Give me a few days and let me talk to my dad,” Rook says. “We’ll be in contact.”
We wrap up the call and disconnect. Today is fucking Christmas Eve. This entire tour has been one giant shit show. The only good thing is Tinley. She makes all the other bullshit worth it.
* * *
The label security accompanies us to the hospital. They manage to sneak us in through the celebrity and rich people’s entrance. It’s convenient New York is set up for high-profile clients, even the hospitals.
The press hasn’t broken Carter’s story yet, although I verified before leaving the hotel that his family has been notified. That’s the last fucking thing any parent deserves to find out on some gossip news website.
“Are you sure you want to head in there?” I ask Tinley as we finally make it to the waiting room for Carter’s floor.
She rubs at her lower stomach and shrugs. I feel her out in the bond, but she’s majorly overwhelmed. The press we encountered while leaving the hotel was enough to frazzle anyone, and she’s still worried about Christmas shopping. “I feel like I need to thank him for stepping in, but I know they only let two people in the room at a time. I can stay out here with Fitz. Just tell him thank you for me.”
“Not to be an asshole, but he’s the one who got you into that situation to begin with.” Ram wraps an arm around her lower back. “But we all want him to get his life together, so I won’t be pointing that out unless it’s necessary.”
“Come on, Tinsel. We can snuggle up on that two-seater bench,” Fitz says, nodding to the small couch on the far wall.
The hospital attendant we were assigned stands patiently, waiting. Once Fitz and Tinley head off, Ram joins my side, and we aim to check on Carter.
* * *
“Are you here to take another swing at me?” Carter asks, pushing himself up in the hospital bed.
Ram snorts.
I swipe a hand over my face, shaking my head. “Nah, you kinda look like shit.”
“Thanks, asshole. I feel like it too,” Carter says.
