“Arlo? What’s wrong?”
He shifts a little to look at me, and the agony on his face is undeniable. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. My anxiety rears its ugly head to the surface, and when he speaks again, it feels like the ground beneath me just opened, and I’ve been swallowed into the darkest pits of Hell.
“Mom’s gone.”
SEVENTEEN
I don’t think Arlo’s ever driven the car as fast as he’s done it tonight. We reached the hospital in record time, his hand tightly holding mine as he led me through the first floor of the hospital. His tense body, agitated state, and the pure sorrow on his face cause ache to bloom in my chest. I don’t even know what we’re going to see, and whatever it is, I don’t think either of us is ready.
Arlo taps his foot impatiently on the floor of the elevator, watching the door with intensity. The elevator stops, the door opens, and we’re out before I can process what’s happening. This particular floor isn’t as crowded, because Hudson had Noelle moved to a private wing; hence, there’s only a handful of nurses,some of their men, and the receptionist.
“Noelle De Santis,” Arlo states bluntly when we approach the front desk. The girl looks to be an intern, young and inexperienced. Her eyes widen a little at Arlo’s tone, though she doesn’t comment. Her fingers move over the keyboard, typing away quickly before looking back at us.
“Room twenty-two. Down the hall, then turn right.”
With a small thank you and a soft smile, I pick up the pace, trying to keep up with Arlo’s long strides. He leads me down the hall with ease, turning the right corner and reaching the part of the wing where Noelle’s room is.
The scent of disinfectant is strong, my nose scrunching as it hits my buds. Arlo doesn’t falter, though, and with a deep breath, starts walking down the hallway.
Hushed voices can be heard, and it doesn’t take me long to recognize a few. Freya’s sitting on one of the chairs outside the room, with a blonde woman standing right next to her, looking out the window.
I’ve never seen her before, but she looks rather scary. I make a mental note to ask Arlo later about her, but right now, I’m focused on trying to be here for him in any way I possibly can.
It was Cove who called him. Apparently, Hudson tried reaching Arlo as well, but given what we were doing, neither of us heard his phone ringing. Cove’s not here, though. He’s still trying to put the pieces together of what went down. Hudson’s not in the right state to say a thing, and I can’t blame him.
“Did they say anything?”
Freya looks at him and shakes her head before releasing a sigh. “Not yet, no. Hudson’s inside with her.”
“Let’s go.” Arlo looks back at me, reluctantly releasing the grip on my hand. He steps forward, pushing the door open, and enters it swiftly. I follow suit, keeping some distance between us.
And the sight makes my heart physically hurt.
Noelle’s attached to too many machines. My eyes dart toward the heart monitor, and a small sigh of relief slips out. Her breathing is even, her heart stable from what I can tell. Her chest’s wrapped in bandages, and Hudson’s holding one of her hands tightly in his.
In his other hand, however, he’s holding a gun.
The object is shiny, polished, and evidently loaded. He doesn’t even see us — he’s merely looking through us. His eyes are bloodshot, red, and puffy from crying. But what hits the hardest is how much life has drained out of him. There’s nothing behind his green eyes except sorrow. No will to live, no will to fight. Almost as if he’s already surrendered himself to losing Noelle.
“Dad, put the gun away.” Arlo takes a small step forward.
“Try to take it from me, and I will shoot you where you stand.”
Finally, Hudson looks at Arlo. His words are cold, deprived of any emotions. He’s barely alive, holding onto the thinnest rope of hope that all of this will turn out to be alright. However, he’s dead on the inside. His eyes are dull, voice vicious enough to make Arlo halt.
His hands are fists by his side before he walks over to the bed, pulls a chair, and sits on the opposite side of Hudson, taking Noelle’s hand in his.
“What happened?”
“She was shot through the heart. The bullet grazed it. It had to be removed.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“It’s bad, Arlo,” Hudson chuckles, but it’s an empty sound. “They put her in an induced coma. They don’t know if she’ll wake up.”
“She will,” Arlo says, yet the words lack conviction. “She has to.”
“If she doesn’t,” Hudson trails off, eyes falling onto thegun in his hand. “I’ll follow right behind her.”
