“Shut. Up. I’m guessing you were ten million times worse,” Kai says.
“Fact,” I say. “But the way they loved one another was beautiful.” Tears stab my eyes as emotion charges through me. I didn’t realize I’d still be this hormonal so long after the… I purposely break that thought, unable to even say it in my mind.
I grip Kai’s arm tighter, glad he’s here. When he asked what Trent had said to make me go crazy on his ass that day in the cafeteria, I refused to tell him, much to his frustration, and he took that out on my body the next day when he yanked me into a different classroom.
But I couldn’t say it.
Because he’d murder Trent without hesitation, and I’m not putting myself through this shit to protect him only to lose him over my douchey ex.
We drive for over an hour, and I’m content in Kai’s arms, clinging to him while he peppers kisses all over my face. Drew watches us through the mirror, smiling, and I’m glad he approves.
“Where does Charlie think I am?” I ask, as Drew takes the next exit off the highway.
“He knows where you are. He just doesn’t know Anderson is with us.”
I stare out the window at unfamiliar roads, asking for the umpteenth time where we’re headed. But like all the other times, the guys remain tight-lipped.
We pull into the entrance to a private hospital a few minutes later, and I guess where we are. I bolt upright, my gaze bouncing between my brother and my boyfriend. “Oscar,” I whisper, and Drew nods.
My heart is pounding behind my rib cage, and I clutch Kai’s hand in an iron grip as we walk down the hallway toward Oscar’s room.
“This is it,” Drew says, stopping in front of room four hundred and eighteen.
“You want me to come in with you, baby?” Kai asks, and it’s tempting.
“No. I need to do this alone.” They explained in the elevator he’s still in a coma. I look between them, not sure if they know this. “He took a bullet for me that night. He tried to hold Louis off so I could get away.”
“We know,” Kai says. “And we owe him.”
“He’s my hero,” D adds.
“Mine too,” I whisper.
Kai kisses me sweetly. “Take all the time you need. We’ll be right out here.” He points at a row of chairs against a side wall.
I gulp, nodding, as I curl my hand around the door handle and step into the room.
“Abigail!” Julie, Oscar’s wife, rushes toward me enveloping me in a warm hug. “Oh, my sweet girl.” She grasps my face in her small hand. “Oscar would be so happy to see you here.” She takes my hand, pulling me over to the bed. “Honey. Abigail is here to see you, and she looks as beautiful as ever.”
A messy ball of emotion clogs my throat as I stare at Oscar’s prone body in the bed. He’s got tubes coming out of both arms, and he’s hooked up to a machine. The sheets are folded over just above his waist, and he looks so thin and frail in the bed. His face is a horrid ashen color, and he looks so old.
“You can talk to him,” Julie says. “I don’t know if he hears, but I like to think he does.”
“Hey, Oscar.” My voice cracks as I move closer to the bed, taking his hand in mine. It’s warm to the touch, which is unexpected but reassuring. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to visit, but my father locked me away at Parkhurst, and I only returned to town this week.”
Julie looks at me aghast. I probably should’ve been more circumspect. Knowing Oscar, he hasn’t told her much about the fucked-up goings-on at Chez Manning.
“He tried to save me that night,” I tell her. “And I hate that he’s here because of me.”
“Oh no, honey.” She rises, wrapping her arm around my waist. “Oscar loves you, and even if he doesn’t survive this, I know he wouldn’t have any regrets dying to protect you.”
“What have the doctors said?”
“Not a lot. His body has healed, but his mind hasn’t. They don’t know how long he’ll stay like this, and the longer it goes on, the more there is a possibility of brain damage.”
I clutch her hand, hating to think of Oscar suffering like that. “Can I do anything? Maybe get a second opinion? And let me take care of his medical bills.”
“You have already done so much for us, and I can’t thank you enough.”
