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I know he’s right, but that doesn’t make my fears any less painful.
I sniff. He brushes his thumb against my cheek. “If we’re going to have a chance—you and I…I need to do this.”
“Even if it means you could be killed?”
“Even if it means I could be killed. But I’ll do everything in my power to keep that from happening. We all will.”
The EMS and police arrive, preventing any further discussion. But it doesn’t matter. I know these guys. The brothers won’t stop searching for the truth just because I’m scared. They won’t stop until justice has been set straight.
While Patrick and Lucas’s brothers explain to the cops what happened in the bar, the EMS checks Lucas over.
“You need stitches, and you likely have a concussion,” the woman tells him once she’s finished examining him.
I sense Lucas wants to argue and skip going to the hospital, but he just nods. He probably doesn’t want to risk another outburst from me. Hey, whatever it takes.
Garrett tells them he can drive his brother to the hospital. Now. His expression doesn’t allow Lucas room for argument.
“I’ll meet you there,” I tell the two men and watch while Garrett escorts Lucas to his car.
I walk over to Troy and Kellan, who are talking with the cops. Zara and Emily are with them. Patrick has returned to the bar.
“Did you see anything, ma’am?” the officer asks me.
“I was in the bar when it happened. And I only heard the fight inside. I didn’t see it.” I want to ask him if he thinks the attack has anything to do with the drugs found in Lucas’s house, but the cops still believe the narcotics belonged to Lucas. I doubt he’s going to give me the answer I’m looking for.
Lucas is right. So far, the cops have done little to figure out who’s setting him up for the fall.
Troy drives me in Lucas’s SUV to the hospital. We climb out of the vehicle, but I can’t make my legs move toward the ER entrance. I stare at the red brick building where Grams was a patient over two months ago.
The fear I’d experienced then is no different to now. Lucas was fine when he left Barside. But what if his condition quickly deteriorated after that?
“He’s going to be okay, Simone. He’s got a hard head. I’m sure Mom dropped him on it a few times as a baby.”
Troy might be saying that to put me at ease, but his concerned tone suggests the opposite. He’s as worried as I am.
We enter the ER. Weary eyes peer up at us from the waiting room chairs. I recognize a couple of faces, but the rest are a blur. Lucas and Garrett aren’t here.
A Code Red is announced through the loudspeakers in the ceiling. The tension in my muscles tightens at the urgent voice.
It’s not Lucas. It’s not Lucas. It’s not Lucas.
Repeating that in my head on an endless loop, I will my legs to keep moving and join the end of the line for admitting.
The heavy disinfectant smell mocks me, dredges up memories of the last time I was in an ER. Medical staff rushing in and out of my room. The beeping of the heart rate monitor. The crippling pain. The bitter taste of loss.
The emptiness.
I hug myself, a blockage against further memories. My lungs are shrinking, shrinking, shrinking, and drawing air into them is a challenge.
I’m vaguely aware of a warm hand on the curve of my lower spine. “Breathe, Simone. He’ll be okay.” Troy.
I nod, the movement mechanical, and close my eyes.
“I’m sorry. There was nothing we could do.”
A salty wetness touches my lips. I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand.
“Simone, honey.” Zara’s voice sounds distant, faint. “Why don’t we go outside so you can get some air? Troy will track us down once he has an update on Lucas.”
