Chapter
Twenty-Three
Ryan
I’m hooked up to a million tubes and electrodes. There’s a constant beeping next to my ear, and I’m stuck watching reruns of a show I didn’t enjoy very much the first time it aired. Any TV show with a laugh track is trying too hard.
My parents left an hour ago. Bear isn’t talking to me. I’m in constant but mild pain, like a gnawing annoyance. My shoulder is all banged up from hitting the floor before Bear could catch me. My hand is cut from hitting various objects over the evening, and somehow I’ve broken my left pinky toe. But it’s not the physical injuries that have me upset.
Last night was the second-worst night of my life.
I lost her.
My body betrayed me.
I don’t know how I’m going to pay medical bills.
The surgery might not be an option anymore.
And everything is my fault.
It was all avoidable, but I was too chickenshit to do anything about it—survivor’s remorse had me believing I wasn’t allowed to love again. It was self-sabotage.
When my phone rings, I assume it’s Bear checking in and I almost don’t answer. But then I lift the phone and my heart-rate monitor spikes.
“Amber?” I don’t even give her a chance to say hello.
“I’m going to give you three minutes to answer all of my questions.” She states it like she’s addressing a platoon about to go to war. “How long are you in the hospital?”
“They’re keeping me under observation for two or three more days.”
Her voice stays steady. “Was it bad?”
Translation: Did I almost die?
“It was the second-worst cluster I’ve ever had.”
“Hmm. What’s your treatment plan?”
“I don’t know.” I swallow as I come face to face with all of my deepest fears. “Tomorrow I have a meeting with my doctor after he examines my test results.”
“Are you going to follow the treatment plan?” Ouch. This one is loaded. She’s not asking if I can follow it, she’s asking if I will. It’s not fair to pin my life on the slim chance she’s willing to forgive me. We both deserve better.
I pick at the mediocre hospital blanket. “As best as I can.”
She gives a little “uh-huh.” Her voice is icy and clinical. “Do you understand how much you hurt me?”
Of course I do. “I hurt you and broke your trust, but I don’t think I’ll ever really know the extent or depth of the damage.”
“Because you don’t really know me. You never asked about my background or even why those guys were following me that first night.” She lets the weight of the sentence sink in. “Why didn’t you want to call the cops that night?”
“A couple of reasons. One, I work for a group called the Four Families. It’s a criminal syndicate, and as a general rule, I like to keep the police as far away from my life as possible. And two,I wasn’t legally allowed to ride Bear’s motorcycle because I was still one month shy of being six months seizure-free.”
She hisses, “So your desire for self-preservation and loyalty to a crime family was more important than my safety. Cool.”
That cuts deep because she’s right. But she wasn’t exactly pressing the issue to call the police, and I never asked her why. Shit, I still don’t know the answer.
Amber continues her interrogation. “Why the club? Were you always Fox when you were there?”
