“Oh, no,” I lied. “Wonderful.”
At the hospital, he whisked us through different rooms to a waiting doctor. I listened as he talked, trying to only take in what I wanted to hear.
Fox was going to be okay.
That was all that mattered.
I couldn’t bear to hear the list of his injuries.
I just needed to focus on the fact that he was going to be all right. I needed to focus on the good, because if I let myself take in the bad, the rage would take over.
Revenge would come another day.
Drake and the doctor took us through to Fox’s room. I didn’t notice them leave. I could only stare at my husband.
Fox’s arms were bandaged. He had black eyes. A broken lip. He was half-asleep now. Maxed out on painkillers, the doctor had explained.
I sat in the chair next to his bed, holding his hand, Bibi on my lap. “Dada ouchie.” She leaned down and kissed his arm.
I didn’t want to think about just how close I’d come to losing him.
Slumped in that chair, I must’ve drifted off. Shouting men, screams, shots, all peppered my dreams.
With a start, I woke.
Fox.
Bibi.
I looked around the hospital room. My husband was in the bed. My daughter was in my lap.
We were safe.
Bibi was playing with a shiny little ball, rolling it across the standing tray table that was next to us.
I stretched and stroked her hair. “What you got there?”
“I think fairies give me.”
I picked it up and rolled it around in my hand. It looked like a cheap pendant. The chain must’ve broken off. “It can be your lucky charm.”
“Yes!” Bibi kept rolling it between her hands.
I was grateful that she had something to focus her attention on. Something that wasn’t the beeps of machinery, the sterile setting of a hospital room, and her father’s damaged face.
“Haze,” Fox croaked. His eyes were open.
“Dada’s awake!” I smiled down at him.
Everything was going to be okay.
Chapter Eleven
Present day
February 28
3:50 p.m.: Male subject arrived at playground with daughter (BC).
