“Sure,” I tell him, wincing as I push myself up straighter, and every muscle and joint in my body protest.
“Can this wait?” Oliver asks the detective.
“We need to get everything while it’s fresh in her mind and yours too.”
“I’m good,” I tell Oliver, squeezing his hand. “I need to tell someone what happened. I need to makesure he doesn’t do this to anyone else. But—” I turn my gaze toward the detective “—the story is long.”
“Take all the time you need.”
I spend a ridiculous amount of time going into detail about what happened to Zoey and how Mark lured me to the house with a fake social media account. I tell the officer everything as best as I can remember under the circumstances.
“Is he okay? Mark,” I ask.
“He’s still in stable condition. His legs are broken, along with one arm. He has a concussion too, but it looks like he’ll survive. We’ll be placing him under arrest before he leaves the hospital.”
“Thank God,” I say and finally release a long, deep breath for the first time in hours.
“And me?” Oliver asks.
“And you what?” the detective asks.
“You know…” Oliver glances down at me as I meet his eyes, pleading with him to shut up.
“No charges are going to be filed against you for rescuing her. You’re a hero in my book.”
He’s my hero too.
“Really?” Oliver’s voice is as surprised as I feel at that revelation.
“I’m not even going to be taken down to the precinct?”
“Do you want to be?” Detective Larson asks.
“He’s good,” Grandpa says, walking into the room, looking every bit as calm and collected as healways does. “Thanks for your quick and hard work on this case, Detective.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think my grandfather already made calls to everyone he knows in the area to make sure there’ll be no blowback on Oliver.
“Here’s my card,” the detective says as he fishes one out of his jacket pocket and holds it out to me. “If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I’ll be in touch soon to gather the evidence from your phone about the perpetrator.”
“Thank you,” I tell him as I hand the card to Oliver, having nowhere to store it since they made me wear this ridiculously flimsy hospital gown.
“Mr. Gallo,” the detective says, giving my grandfather a chin dip before he strides out.
I knew it. He made calls. I’m not surprised, though. Sometimes it feels like my grandfather knows everyone in the city and all the surrounding suburbs. His earlier years, although tumultuous, are more than paying dividends now.
A second later, my dad is in the room with my mom on his arm. Her eyes widen the moment they land on my face.
“That bad, huh?” I ask her, trying to make light of the situation.
My mom isn’t known for keeping her shit together when it comes to Zoey and me, and I have a feeling no matter what I do, she is going to lose it.
“Baby,” she says, unlatching her arm from my dad and rushing to the side of my makeshift bed. “Jesus.”
“He wasn’t there,” I tell her, making a funny.
She doesn’t crack a smile as her gaze moves around my face, soaking it all in. “You look…” She winces as the words die in her throat.
“I know I look like shit, Ma.”
