“If you try to keep me away from her, I will put you through that wall,” I growl, and he believes it. Or maybe he sees the kid I’m carrying, and the universe does some math for him. He backs off, palms up.
“Just… calm down. We know you’re in an extra stressful situation but you are endangering everyone behind that door?—”
“Dad…” Livy cries.
That’s when I stop, really stop, because I realize for the first time that Livy is still glued to me and her face is so pale, so paper-white. Fuck. I scared her. “Oh, baby sorry I scared you. You okay?” I whisper.
She nods, but her eyes never open. Her fingers tighten—little claws.
I turn back to the security guard and take a deep breath before I start again. “How long has Jenna Davis-Kirillov been in there? What are they doing? How is she holding up?”
The security guard nods to a row of chairs. “Please take a seat. Like everyone else.”
Even though my pulse is higher than the Empire State Building, I don’t fight it.
He’s right.
I was insane for even trying to stomp into the emergency room, but Jenna needing an operation… I can’t stomach it. I just want to speak to a doctor.
But I guess I have to wait.
So, I just nod. “Thank you, sir.”
Then I rip a chair away from the wall and sit.
Prying Livy’s hands away from my neck, I stroke her hair. “I need you to be brave, little one. Remember what I told you about being brave?”
She sniffs into my neck, but nods again, and finally her eyes open. They are wet, which somehow makes it all worse. “Daddy… is… is Jenna going to die?”
The words hit harder than anything I’ve ever taken on the ice. For a second I need to breathe the lump in my throat away.
“No,” I force out, and I wish I could believe it too. “She’s a lawyer, remember? Too stubborn to quit.”
I try to smile, but my lips don’t seem to work. Instead, I kiss her forehead, gently rocking her. I don’t know if I’m comforting my daughter or if she’s the only thing holdingmetogether in this moment.
The waiting room fills with people. There are cops, hospital staff, a priest who just sits quietly in the corner like he’s seen this before and knows most people would rather talk to anyone else first. Riley shows up, suit wrinkled, tie undone.
He takes an empty next to me and tries to say something clever, but even he can’t muster a joke tonight.
The hours stretch.
Nurses come out and ask questions. They want to know about allergies, medications, next of kin. I answer everything like a robot.
At some point, I see Jenna’s mother.
She’s wearing a hospital uniform because she works in this very hospital. I almost forgot. Her face is drawn so tight, lips asingle pale line. She sees me, and for a second, I think she’s going to slap me, blame me, whatever it is parents do when their kid is on the edge of death and they need someone to hate. She doesn’t. She just sits beside me and takes my hand, which is somehow worse.
“Thank you for being here,” she says.
I stare at her, confused. “Of course,” I blurt out but the words have teeth.
Jenna’s mother squeezes my hand, looks down at Livy asleep in my lap and strokes her hair.
“She has internal bleeding…” her mother whispers. “They’re trying to stop the bleeding or repair her organs. I couldn’t listen properly.”
I just nod. Internal bleeding because my stupid ex-wife ran her over.
“Ethan just sent me an e-mail,” Riley says. “They locked Mira up.”
