It’s best I don’t talk anyway. Less of a chance of her putting that wall up between us again. Because right now, her body relaxes against mine and I feel at peace. My lips press to the top of her head, and I inhale the fruity scent of her shampoo.
An hour later, Paz walks into the living room, and Evie stiffens. I shift her weight and slide out from under her.
“I’ll be right back,” I say and walk out of earshot with Paz following me.
“She’s out of surgery. Still asleep but going to be fine,” he says.
I sigh. I didn’t know how much I was fucking hoping to hear that. Two people I happen to care about would be fucking devastated otherwise. “Thanks. Get the car ready. I need you to come with me.”
Paz nods and walks out towards the front of the house. I go back into the living room. Evie looks up at me.
“What happened?” she asks.
“We have to go to the hospital,” I tell her. “Charlotte was shot. She’s okay. She’s out of surgery and going to make a full recovery.”
Chapter Eleven
All I heard was thatCharlotte was shot. And I’m up on my feet. “What? No! What happened? OMG, I have to go. Where is she?” My questions are rapid-fired at Emmanuel.
I walk past him towards the front of the house. Gone is my fear of being gunned down by the lunatics he has surrounding this place. My sole focus on getting to myfriend.
Charlotte was shot.This isn’t real.
A pair of arms wraps around me from behind just before I reach the door. “Evie, she’s okay,” Emmanuel whispers into my ear. He is the last person I want to be taking comfort from. And yet, when he touches me, that’s exactly what I do.
My body relaxes into his a little. He’s a good hugger. Tight, like I’m wrapped in a protection bubble. That’s how I felt on the sofa. I almost protested when he got up to go talk to Paz. I was enjoying the bubble.
“How do you know?” I ask him.
“I had Paz hack into the hospital system. He read her files. She’s out of surgery and in recovery. She will be okay,” Emmanuel says, his voice soft. Soothing. “Come on, let’s go.”
Emmanuel holds my hand throughout the entire ride to the hospital, his grip firm. I don’t even try to pull away. I can’t. I need the anchor. My head is full of images. Dark images.
“It’s my fault,” I say.
“What’s your fault?”
“Charlotte getting shot. It’s my fault.”
“How the fuck do you figure that?” Emmanuel grunts.
“I encouraged her to stay. I should have talked her into going home.” If I had done that, she would have been safe right now.
“That is not your fault. You’re not blaming yourself for something you had no control over. Someone took a shot at Louie, and your friend pushed him out of the way. She literally jumped in front of the bullet,” Emmanuel says. He seems to know a lot about this.
“When did you find out?”
“Shortly after it happened. I wanted to wait until she was out of surgery before I told you,” he admits.
“What?You knewand didn’t tell me. You let me sit there and watch some crappy movie while my best friend was in surgery. I can’t believe you.” I snatch my hand out of his. When the car comes to a stop, I try to yank the door open, but it doesn’t budge. “Open the fucking door!” I yell.
Emmanuel gets out on his side and slams the door shut. Then he comes around and opens my door, leaning into the car until he’s taking up most of my space. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry unnecessarily. I wanted to be able to tell you after we knew she was going to be fine.”
“And what if she wasn’t?” Icounter.
“Then I would have found a way to break the heart of probably the only person alive I don’t want to disappoint,” he says, and his eyes connect with mine.
I don’t care about his bullshit words. He can’t possibly mean them.
