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The fucking irony.
I swallow hard. “Can I see him?”
Doc nods. “It is restricted. I would prefer just yourself if your friends can wait here.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Taylor murmurs.
Thank God they’re here. Knowing they have my back is what I need right now.
I follow the doc into the room, and straight away, I’m hit with the bleeping of machines and the clinical smell in the air. It’s overwhelming.
My hands shake as I walk to his bedside. I’m definitely not prepared for what I see.
He looks nothing like the hard-headed, ball-busting, no-nonsense businessman that I’m used to seeing. The one I grew up with and never had the chance to really know.
Looking at his lifeless body, with monitors here, there, and everywhere, his face black and blue with his eyes firmly closed from the swelling. He doesn’t even resemble a normal person.
I fight back the tears.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
My dad may be a callous, unfeeling man, but he still doesn’t deserve this.
I know there must be reasons, and now I may never get to understand them.
I glance up at the doctor.
“He has around-the-clock care,” he tells me, patting me on the arm. “He’s in the best hands.”
“What are his chances?”
The doc sighs deeply, and it doesn’t do much as far as reassurances go.
“We just have to take it one moment at a time. Tonight will be the most critical.”
If he makes it through the night.That’s what he’s really saying.
This is about as fucked a situation as it can get.
“Can I get a moment with him?” I ask.
Doctor Parsons agrees with a quick nod. “The nurses are in and out if you need anything.” He pats me on the shoulder and leaves me. I hover for a moment and then take a seat before I put my head in my hands.
This can’t get any fucking worse.
I’m only there a few moments when I hear a familiar voice behind me. I look up and see Genevieve holding a tray with two takeaway coffees.
“I thought you’d be here,” she says quietly, walking towards me.
“I just arrived,” I reply, my voice breaking, giving my angst away as if it wasn’t prevalent on my face already.
She passes me one of the coffees on the tray and glances at my dad.
“No change then?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t look good.” I sigh. “Do the police know anything yet?”
