The older woman to Stevie’s left clutches her arm and whispers something in her ear. I’m guessing she must be the infamous Nana.
“Is it any wonder she refused?” A well-built guy with dark hair steps out from behind Hugh, putting his face all up in Ivy’s. From the expression on his face, he thinks as much of her as I do. “Stevie was terrified to accept anything from Garrick because you kept throwing shade at her. You were the one accusing her of being a gold digger, to the point where she didn’t want to take any gifts from him.”
Stevie didn’t mention anything about this to me.
“If you want someone to blame,” he continues, “how about you blame yourself, you selfish cunt.”
“Hudson, I really don’t think—”
“No, Hugh. I won’t be censored. Everyone lets this bitch get away with murder. I’m not going to stand here and let her hurl baseless accusations at Stevie.”
“Baseless?” Ivy screams, throwing her hands around as I spy a couple of security guards approaching from the far end of the hallway. “They are hardly baseless.” She jabs her finger in my direction. “She has already moved on to her next victim!” Without warning or expectation, Ivy lunges at Stevie and slaps her across the face. “My son is fighting for his life, and you’re already working on his replacement. You make me sick.”
ChapterForty-Three
Stevie
Astinging pain races across my cheek, and Ivy’s words cut through me like a knife. She certainly knows how to pinpoint the perfect spot to drive it deep. This is something I was afraid of—other people’s perception of my friendship with Beck. Curiosity splays on Dawn’s and Hugh’s faces, and Will looks downright suspicious. Hudson is the only one who seems indifferent to Ivy’s accusation.
Beck steps right up to Garrick’s mother. His voice is cold enough to form ice cubes when he speaks. “My girlfriend is in a room at the end of this floor, also in a coma, and I do not appreciate your insinuation. Not that you deserve any explanation, but there is nothing inappropriate in my friendship with Stevie. We understand and support one another in similar situations.”
Ivy opens her mouth to speak, but Beck cuts her off with another glacial look. “You may go through men in a constantly rotating line, but Stevie is loyal in her love of your son and utterly devoted to him. It’s clear to everyone, but you, that Garrick is the center of her world. If it was up to me, you’d be arrested for assault. And if you think you can threaten Stevie, or try to ban her from seeing Garrick, think again. It would give me enormous pleasure to channel the full weight of the Colbert resources into stopping you.”
“Get your hands off me,” Ivy shrieks as one of the security guards loosely takes her elbow.
“You need to come with us, ma’am,” he replies.
“Like hell I do!” She shrugs off his hand, pointing at me. “If anyone is leaving, it’s that gold-digging slut.”
Heat crawls up my neck and onto my face. I hate how those words still have the power to upset me. I am usually stronger when faced with this bitch, but this is humiliating, taking place in front of Garrick’s loved ones, nursing staff, and medical management, and I’m sure other visitors on the floor have heard this going down.
Now everyone will know the accident was my fault.
Everyone will think I’m a gold digger.
I’m barely holding on to my sanity, and this could send me over the edge.
I’m glad Beck intervened. His words warmed some of the frozen parts inside me. He didn’t hesitate to defend and support me, and he can’t know exactly how much this means to me.
I’m curious to learn how they know one another. And what it means when he says he’ll channel the full extent of the Colbert resources into going after her. Beck doesn’t talk about work much, other than to say he loathes it. I know he works in his family business; that he has a degree in IT and business from Cornell and an MBA from Harvard, but that’s the extent of my knowledge.
“You need to leave, Ivy,” Hugh says, dragging me back into the moment. “You have caused enough trouble for one night.”
“I’m not going.”
“I’m afraid the hospital will have to insist,” the female director says, wearing a “don’t mess with me” look as she walks around Ivy to my side. “Would you like me to call the police?”
“Do it,” Ivy snarls. “See what I do next.”
Beck makes a move toward her, but I stall him with a hand to his arm. I appreciate him helping to fight my battles, but he doesn’t need to bring that woman down on himself. This is my burden to bear. Not his.
“I won’t press charges, but I don’t respond well to threats, Ivy. If you want a fight, I’ll give you one.” They are brave words because we both know she has powerful resources, important contacts, and a natural evil streak. I wouldn’t last more than a couple of rounds in a fight with her.
She barks out a laugh. “I don’t need to fight. I already hold the winning trophy.”
What the hell does that mean? An icy chill tiptoes up my spine, and an ominous sense of dread washes over me.
Shooting a haughty look at all of us, she straightens her spine and lifts her head. “I’ll go. I’ve already wished my boy happy birthday, and I have no desire to slum it for the rest of the night.” She purposely rakes her gaze over me, Mom, and Nana.
