“I told you she’s a handful,” Stevie says. “Count your blessings she doesn’t have the time to interrogate you.”
“There’s always next time.” Hadley grins, showcasing a set of perfectly straight white teeth.
“I look forward to it, and it was nice to meet you.” I look down at Stevie. “You should go. You don’t want to be late.”
“Yeah.”
I sense the hesitation, and I understand it. “From what you’ve told me of him, Garrick would be proud you did this. Go up there and celebrate his birthday. When you need to talk, I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Beck,” she whispers, looking close to tears again. Maybe tonight is the night she gives in to pent-up emotion. If it happens, I hope it’s cathartic for her.
Hadley loops her arm through Stevie’s. “It was good to meet you too, Beck. You take care.” Hadley leads an emotional Stevie away, and I’m glad she has such a great friend.
I reclaim my seat on the bench, letting them leave together. Poor Stevie. Tonight will be rough. It’s Garrick’s first birthday in a coma and only six weeks until the first anniversary of the accident.
I hurt for her.
Her pain is my pain.
After enough time has passed, I get up and reluctantly make my way toward the hospital entrance. The merger has gone through. On paper at least, but it hasn’t been publicly announced yet. There are one or two operational details to finalize. But it’s a done deal. So, technically, there is no need for me to visit Brielle every night. Dad told me as much, but it feels wrong to just walk away.
Stevie’s devotion to Garrick has rubbed off on me.
I wasn’t there for Brielle in life, so I’ll be there for her in death.
Unlike Garrick, Brielle isn’t alive. Her body may still be breathing, thanks to a ventilator, but her mind is gone. She is only on life support because Mrs. Cartwright still can’t accept reality. David is trying to prepare her for the next stage. They can’t keep her like this indefinitely. While the hospital has not kicked up a fuss—they are getting paid, and the Cartwrights are big donors—it’s not right that she’s occupying a bed that someone else might need.
It’s not right to delay the inevitable.
Brielle wouldn’t have wanted this either.
Brielle is already gone, and Pamela Cartwright will have to accept that truth sometime. I understand why David is taking such a cautious and gentle approach. He’s terrified of losing his wife to insanity, and he’s already lost too much, so he’s let this continue far longer than it should.
Sounds of shouting greet my ears as the elevator doors open on the private floor, and I’m instantly on high alert. When I step outside, a commotion is going on in the hallway close to Garrick’s room. Stevie, Hadley, and two older women are standing in front of Ivy Allen-Golding-Smith. Behind her is Hugh Allen and two unfamiliar men in their early twenties. Ivy is screaming and pointing her finger in Stevie’s face, and I’m striding toward them without hesitation.
“I’ll have you arrested!” Ivy is yelling, spittle flying from her lips as she jabs her finger in Stevie’s chest.
“Take your hands off my daughter,” a good-looking woman with strawberry-blonde hair says, leveling Ivy with a challenging look.
“Ivy. That’s enough,” Hugh says, and I don’t know how the guy can remain so calm.
“What’s going on?” I ask when I reach them. “Stevie, are you okay?”
Ivy’s head pivots to me so fast it’s a wonder she didn’t give herself whiplash. “Greyson?” She blinks several times as she drinks me in from head to toe. “Greyson Beckett Colbert III, is that really you?”
This woman gets on my very last nerve. I cannot stand her. She’s a bully and a snob, and I’m not giving her a second of my attention. Ignoring her, I focus on Stevie. “What’s going on?” I ask, peering deep into her tortured eyes. She’s pale, shaking like a leaf, and I’ve never seen her more terrified.
Before Stevie can get a word out, Ivy rounds on her again.
“What’s going on?” she screeches as Hugh talks in whispers to one of the hospital directors who has just shown up. “This little bitch is the reason my son is in a coma. He gave her a perfectly good car, which she refused, and it’s her fault he was driving that piece of trash that put him in this condition!”
“I said that’s enough, Ivy.” Hugh’s tone is harsher this time as he cuts across his conversation to intervene. “You’re making a big deal out of this unnecessarily.”
Ivy glares at her ex-husband. “Don’t think I’ve overlooked the part you played in this. You knew about this from the start, and you deliberately kept it hidden from me. You’re going to pay for that, Hugh.”
“Shut up, Ivy,” an unfamiliar woman says, exiting Garrick’s room and making a beeline for Hugh. “No one told you because you’re a goddamned drama queen, and we all knew you’d overreact. What happened to Garrick is a tragedy, but it was an accident. Stevie is not to blame.” The woman threads her fingers in Hugh’s, and I’m guessing she must be his current wife. She glances at the troubled faces surrounding her. “This is supposed to be a birthday party for Garrick. The twins are listening to all of this, and it’s upsetting them. Garrick is probably hearing this too. Stevie went to a ton of trouble organizing the party, Ivy. Can we just let this go or at least park it until later?”
Ivy harrumphs. Of course, she’s not going to let this go. I already know it before she opens her trashy mouth to confirm it. “I’m not letting this go or parking anything. That little slut isn’t getting near my son again. She might have pulled the wool over all your eyes, but she hasn’t fooled me. I’m having her removed from the visitor’s list. I’ll get a goddamned restraining order if I have to. This is her fault. All because she wouldn’t accept such a generous gift. My son is far too good for you.” She glowers at Stevie.
