“Um.” Whitney chews the inside of her cheek. “We can wait, like, outside the door or something if you’re still catching up and stuff.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank—”
“We’re done.” I cut my mom off, looking right at her and Vincent. “Go get some food, whatever. I’m starting to feel a little nauseous.”
To my mom’s credit, she barely flinches. “Actually, I think we will order in. You’re in for a surprise if you think for one minute we’re going to leave you alone in this condition.” She lifts her chin. “How’s that for decent parenting?”
My jaw ticks, and I flick a glance at my dad, who’s never looked so uncertain or uncomfortable. His rigid form, clad in a Giorgio Armani suit, Le Labo cologne, and a heavy waft of pretense from head to toe, tells me he came here straight from work.
“Sure,” I say, unaffected. “Maybe that’ll spark some creative ideas for all the ways you’re going to make up for how you’ve treated Eva.”
Indignation clouds my mom’s self-righteous gaze, but she turns to Vincent, shoves his chest, and they instantly start bickering. I shift my attention to Whitney and Zach. Their steps are tentative as they move closer to my bed, Whitney checking nervously over her shoulder as she does, like she fears my mom will grow fangs at any second.
“Dude,” Zach says when he reaches me. “I heard you got stabbed. Like, bad.”
I cock a brow, and Whitney nudges him in the waist.
“Zach,” she scolds. “A little sensitivity never hurt anyone.” Then, she leans forward and whispers, “Is it true though? You actually took a knife for Eva?”
“And lost a kidney,” Zach adds, beaming like a proud father.
Whitney’s eyes widen, and her whisper evolves to a hushed squeal. “Oh my gosh. That’s actually super romantic!” Her brows knit thoughtfully, then she shoots me a glare. “Wait. We need to talk about our deal.”
I release an impatient breath and check that my parents are still arguing. “I have to make sure Eva’s okay.”
“Sure thing, man. We’ll go check on her now and let you know how she’s doing.”
“I’m going to go see her. Right now.”
“Uh ...”
Whitney stares at me dumbfounded while Zach stares blankly at the piggybacked IVs in my arm. “You’re kidding,” she says. “Even if your parents magically agree to let you sneak out of here without the doctor’s approval, which so isn’t happening, how do you expect to make it to the opposite end of the hospital in your condition? I mean, have you seen yourself?You could pass out,” she hisses. “If you want to see her so badly, just have her come to you.”
Irritation curls around my chest, but there’s no use in explaining something no one else could understand. As if it’s not bad enough my parents—two people who have gone out of their way to make Eva feel unwanted—are tied to this room, the last thing I’m going to do is have her leave her empty room to seek me out. I can’t explain how, but I know she needs me to come to her. To show her she’s worth it. She’s worth everything. And while I’m here, surrounded by familiar faces, all brimming with concern, Eva, who has been through hell and back, thinks she has no one. But she has me. She’ll always have me. And, selfishly, she’s the only fucking person I need.
I grit my jaw, eyelids lowered with steel resolve, and look at Whitney and Zach. “I’m going with or without your help. But it’d be a shit ton easier with it.”
Zach lets out a low whistle. “I’m in, man. You know that.”
The incredulity painted on Whitney’s face doesn’t waver. But after a few moments pass without my resolve bending, she huffs out a breath, and her eyes narrow. I know that look. It’s the look she gets when she’s planning something.
Before I know what she’s doing, she places one hand on her hip, spins on her heel, and says, “Mrs. Rutherford! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!”
My mom stops talking mid-sentence, and her eyes snap to Whitney’s. “What? What is it?”
“It’s just ...” Whitney walks toward her, her voice hushed and conspiratorial. “Did you hear about Ruby?”
“Oh.” My mom waves a dismissive hand through the air. “If you mean her and the gardener, everyone—”
“Oh my gosh, you really don’t know.” Whitney blows out a breath, like whatever she’s been keeping to herself is too big to contain any longer. “Well, I’d love to tell you, but now isn’t the time”—she glances at Vincent—“or the place. No worries. It can wait until tonight or tomorrow. I’m sure only a few more people will know by then.” She flashes a sweet smile, spins on her heel again, and—
“Whitney? Darling?”
Whitney winks at me and Zach. Then she looks back at my mom innocently. “Yes?”
My mom pulls her close. “It’ll only take a moment, I’m sure. I was about to step out to grab a coffee from the cafe anyway, so Vincent will stay here with Easton. Won’t you, dear?”
He grumbles and rolls his eyes.
