“Hayley is an idiot.”
“Why are you always ragging on her?” I demanded, stepping even closer. “What has she ever done to you that you treat her like she’s trash?”
“She was born.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re really something. While I don’t quite knowwhatyou are, you’re something.”
“You don’t know jack shit, mister.”
“You don’t care that Hayley is in the intensive care unit?”
Oddly, Roxanne said nothing. She drank from her glass while continuing to look at the painting. I glanced at it, wondering what was so fascinating about it. I shrugged, then turned toward her front door.
“I’ve done my duty,” I commented. “I informed you.”
At the entrance, I paused and looked back. “If ever you have a grave need of Hayley, I hope she has more compassion for you than you show toward her.”
I left Roxanne staring at the painting and returned to my truck.
***
After several hours of sleep and a shower, I drove back to the hospital. On the way, I checked in with Willow and found her at the office.
“Did you get some sleep?” I asked.
“What for? I have too much to do to spend it sleeping.”
“You’re trying to make me feel guilty, aren’t you?”
“Is it working?”
“Yeah. I’ll come in after I see Hayley.”
“I called the ward,” Willow said. “She’s much stronger, and able to talk. I was able to speak to her briefly. I’ll go see her later, after work.”
“She’ll love to see you.”
“I’m bringing her a present.”
“What is it?”
“Not your business. Give her a kiss, then get your ass back here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The hospital was far busier than in the wee hours of the morning. I rode the elevator up to the third floor with a couple of nurses and a few maintenance people. The intercom spoke of needing Dr. Smith, stat, and I overheard the nurses chatting about the latest episode of an afternoon soap opera.
Hayley still appeared far too pale and tired when I strode into her small room. This time, however, I received no welcoming smile from her. I kissed her anyway, then pulled a visitor’s chair close to her bed.
“You look a little better,” I commented, taking her hand.
“I feel like shit,” she whispered, her jade eyes on my face. “Tell me what happened.”
I grimaced. “I’m sure it was Damon who shot you. He intended to kill me.”
“I got that from Willow.”
Smiling, though confused at her comment, I stroked her hair from her brow. “I’m so sorry you’re involved in this family quarrel.”
