Something builds in my chest, rising, flooding, consuming. When the paramedics burst into the trailer, a guttural sob rips out of me.
Chapter Forty-One
Wyatt
Present Day
The paramedics rush in and bark information to each other while they establish Haven’s vitals. She has vitals. Weak, but there. God, I hope my CPR didn’t hurt her.
Closing my eyes, I take a couple of deep breaths. When I open them, the female paramedic is staring at me.
“Accidental overdose,” Camila says from beside me.
I missed the question.
Ellie was forced to step back from Haven. Nikki is holding her as she cries. I want to go to her, but this is my fault. My sister brought this here.
They inject Haven with Narcan and almost immediately her eyes fly open. She sits up, bewildered.
“Mom?”
Ellie’s sharp cry of relief pierces my heart. She falls to her knees and envelops Haven in a hug, securing her tight.
“We need to get her to the hospital. She might need another dose,” the male paramedic says, packing up in a rush. “Anyone know what she got into?”
“Anna!” I shout, turning on my heel.
“Fentanyl,” Camila says. “Possibly cocaine. Maybe heroine. Anna doesn’t know. She left everything strewn around the bathroom.”
The female medic sighs, and they help Haven onto the stretcher. “We can take one of you.” She checks between me and Ellie. She recognizes us.
“Me.” Ellie clings onto Haven. “Me.”
“I’ll meet you there.” She won’t acknowledge me while she cries and grasps onto Haven. Her worst nightmare. The one thing she told me she needed above all else—keep our kids safe, and I couldn’t fucking do it.
Once they’re through the door, I follow them out of the trailer. At the ambulance, the paramedics slam the doors shut, but not before I catch a glimpse of Ellie’s face. My heart beats double, triple time when the ambulance peels off the set and onto the road that’ll take them to the hospital.
I don’t even have a damned car.
Storming into the trailer, I stare at Camila and then at Nikki. “How the fuck did this happen?”
“Haven asked to come over here to get a doll. I didn’t think anything of it. We let her go back and forth all the time before Anna. It never occurred to me Anna’d have littered the place with drugs.” Nikki’s voice trembles and her chin wobbles.
I turn to Camila. “What’s your excuse?”
“I was mediating a session between Anna and Jamal. I didn’t realize Nikki let Haven come here. Stacy was setting up a craft.”
“Where is Stacy?” I ask.
“In your trailer with Jamal. Someone still had to take care of him when all hell broke loose.” Camila uses her calm, collected voice that I usually find soothing.
The rage inside right now is astronomical. Haven could have died. The Narcan might not have worked if she’d been alone too long.
I drag my hands down my face. Finding a ride to the hospital is a priority. Ellie needs me, even if her face told me she doesn’t want me. No matter what, Haven needs her dad. “You want to come, Nikki? I’ll find us a ride to the hospital.”
She nods. Her winter gear is hanging off her, hastily assembled from when she came to fetch us. There’s an ominous silence from the bathroom. I couldn't care less how Anna’s feeling. It better be guilt. Unbelievable guilt. And fear. She should be very afraid of me right now.
“Camila, you’ll have to stay here to babysit Anna. She can’t be anywhere near Ellie or Haven. Get Yasmeen to book the three of you flights back to LA.”
“Wyatt.” Anna’s voice comes, tentative, from the doorway.
Without looking, I hold up a hand. Anger—sharp, fierce, enough to blow up this trailer— surges. “Save it. I don’t want to hear anything from you. The sound of your voice right now makes me sick. Your irresponsible, selfish actions almost killed my daughter.” I whirl to face her. “Ellie’s pregnant. And because of you, because you can’t think about anything other than getting high, I might have a second child I don’t get to raise.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Anna whispers.
Nikki is silent. She knows Ellie as well as I do. The only thing Ellie told me she cared about was keeping me and her kids safe. Already, that’s a bar I can’t meet.
“Jamal and I will move out.” Anna steps toward me.
“I can’t talk to you right now. I can’t. I’ll say things, so many things.” With my hand still raised to ward her off, I turn to Nikki. “Let’s go. Ellie and my daughter need us.” My voice cracks on the last sentence, and I clear my throat.
When we step out the trailer door, dickhead Rick from security is there. He should be fired by now. The backwoods of Ontario, Canada, must not have a lot of security options if he’s still kicking around. “Mr. Burgess,” he says. At least we’re back to some level of formality. “I have a car waiting to take you to the hospital.”
“Thanks.” I jiggle the package of gum in my pocket. The car sits beside the trailer, and I go to the far side so Nikki can slide in right away.
Warmth presses in around me. I peel off layers while the car speeds away. There must be only one hospital because no one has asked where we’re going.
Silence stretches between us. We’re probably worrying about the same things, but different things too. Haven. My eyes ache, and I squeeze them closed at the thought of her inheriting my addictive personality. One taste was enough for me. Ellie will never get over the loss if one taste is all it takes for Haven. She can’t turn out like me. I’ll do anything.
“It’s not your fault,” Nikki whispers beside me.
“It’s not yours either.” Part of me blames her. Letting Haven into that trailer alone after Anna tore through was a mistake. But Ellie spent ten years shielding the people she loved from having to think about those things. Nikki isn’t to blame. Maybe Anna. But maybe tonight goes all the way back to our parents. Anna and I never had much of a chance.
Ellie and the kids are better off without me. Haven has been safe for ten years. One small scar mars her forehead. Less than six months with me as her dad and she’s at the hospital with an accidental overdose.
“Ellie did the right thing,” I say into the quiet of the car.
“The right thing?” Nikki glances in my direction before looking away. “What do you mean?”
“Leaving me. She did the right thing for Haven when she left me.”
“Maybe back then she did. But this, what happened today, isn’t your fault.”
“If Haven turns out like me.” My voice cracks. Clearing my throat, I shake my head and run a hand down my face. Falling apart isn’t an option.
“It was an accident, Wyatt.”
Arguing with her is pointless. The truth sits between us, whether she wants to admit it or not. Ten years ago I wasn’t good for Ellie, and I wasn’t good enough for Haven.
“Ellie’s not as strong as she seems,” Nikki murmurs when the car pulls up to the emergency entrance of the hospital. “She’s going to need you. Even if she thinks she doesn’t.”
“She deserves better than this, better than me.” I open my door.
Nikki grabs my coat, stopping me from exiting the car. She takes a deep breath. “You’re a good guy. I wasn’t sure for a while, but I am now. What happened to Haven today isn’t because you’re a bad guy. You have this tremendous capacity to love and forgive the people who matter to you. Forgive yourself, Wyatt. Tonight isn’t your fault.” She releases my coat and steps out when the driver opens her door.
I sit for a minute, soaking in her words. The passenger door is propped open. Then I climb out of the car. Straightening my coat, I steel myself to be the man Ellie and Haven need and not the one I am. Her words bounce around my brain while we talk to the person at reception, when we walk to Haven’s room, even as we stand outside her door.
I forgave Anna a lot ove
r the years. That’s on me. She squandered chance after chance. Each opportunity to cut her loose led me to this moment. Anna might have left the drugs lying around, but I’m the one who should have known better. I’m the reason Haven’s in the hospital.
“You ready?” Nikki offers a tentative smile.
Thrusting my hands in my pockets, I square my shoulders. What I want, I’m not sure Ellie will let me have. I wouldn’t blame her at all.
Chapter Forty-Two
Ellie
Present Day
The doctor finishes checking Haven and turns to me with a grimace. Her pen wags back and forth. “Hospital policy is to call the Children’s Aid Society whenever a child overdoses—intentional or otherwise.”
“Children’s Aid Society?” My brain isn’t functioning. Each breath Haven takes beside me is a gift, and I can’t tear myself away.
“It’s a child protection agency in Canada.”
“But it was an accident.” I stare at her, dumbfounded.
“Yes, but it still needs to be investigated.” She scans her clipboard. “Her father has a history with drugs. They’ll want to make sure she’s safe.”
“What did you say to me about Wyatt? Doctor . . . ?” I bristle.
“Boxton.”
“Watching TMZ and Entertainment Tonight doesn’t give you the right to judge him. This wasn’t his fault. He’s been clean and sober for almost three years.”
Maybe it is his fault, at least a little. Had he taken custody of Jamal, done the hard things earlier, we might not be here right now.
“You don’t know him.” I grasp Haven’s hand.
“Someone from CAS will be here soon. I wanted to make you aware.”
“Is Dad in trouble?”
I shake my head. Maybe we’re all in trouble, depending on what this agency decides. What’s already happened can’t be undone.
When Dr. Boxton reaches the door, she sidesteps Nikki and Wyatt. My heart pitter-patters in my chest at the sight of him. His broad shoulders, his dark messy hair, and his eyes, so haunted, twist my gut. The agony in his expression undoes me a hundred times. Any anger toward him seeps out of me. I can’t blame him, not even a little. Instead of waiting for him to come to me, I close the distance between us and throw my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest.
He draws me into a hug and squeezes me. His chin on the top of my head is soothing. “I’m so sorry,” Wyatt whispers. “Is Haven okay?”
I nod, but I can’t seem to find my voice. If I open my mouth, a sob might escape. Traumatic events and pregnancy don’t go together.
“How are you doing, Short Stuff?” Wyatt asks over me.
“I feel weird.”
Taking a step back from Wyatt, I keep my arm around his waist, and we go to Haven’s bedside.
“I shouldn’t have touched Aunt Anna’s things.” Her voice is little more than a whisper.
“Never touch Aunt Anna’s things.” Wyatt grips her small hand in his. “Ever again, okay? Aunt Anna has dangerous medicine.”
I haven’t had the courage or time to ask Haven how this happened. If Haven knew what she was doing, I’m not sure how I’ll cope. The doctor was too concerned about taking blood, getting a toxicology report, and so forth to ask many questions.
“You moved Anna’s things?” I ask. Wyatt brings a chair to her bedside.
She glances from me to her father. Her attempt to gauge how angry we’ll be is needless; I’m more concerned with the truth. And that she’s alive. I’m so grateful she’s alive.
“Are you going to be mad?” A worried frown creases her brow.
“Probably.” I brush a strand of hair off her forehead. “But you understand I love you, no matter what, always. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you.” I choke out the last few words and tears trickle out again.
Wyatt tugs me into the chair beside him and keeps one hand clasped in mine while his other hand stays with Haven. “Sweetheart.” His voice is gentle. “We’re trying to figure out how we stop this from happening again. Okay?”
The answer is easy. Keep Anna away from our children, and that includes her own child. I stare at Wyatt and send a silent prayer to anyone listening that he never relapses. This Wyatt, holding my hand, guiding my daughter—my heart overflows with love for him. For the first time in a long time, clinging to him will get me out of this nightmare better than navigating this mess alone.
“I went to get my doll.” Haven sniffs and takes a deep breath. “But then I had to go to the bathroom.” She twists her hands together. “When I went in, there was stuff everywhere. Needles, pills, some powdery stuff. Mom doesn’t like a mess. I tried to clean everything. I wiped the powder off the counter into the garbage. Then I didn’t feel good.”
She had to pick this time to worry about a mess. Haven’s created lots of them with no concerns, and today she decides to be tidy.
“What’d you use to wipe the powder?” Wyatt’s voice is soothing, understanding.
Haven holds up her hands. “I shouldn’t have done that, right? Is that what happened?”
“No, you shouldn’t have done that,” Wyatt says.
Whatever she got into, he understands what it was. I’m afraid to ask. Ignorance might be bliss. “This makes sense to you?”
“With her hand?” Nikki pipes up from the other side of the bed. “This happened because she touched one of the drugs?”
“Unfortunately. Fentanyl is tricky.” Wyatt squeezes my fingers, and someone knocks on the door.
We all turn to see a brown-skinned woman with long dark hair standing on the threshold, clutching an oversize purse. She’s young, maybe younger than us. “I’m Priya Sidana.” She comes toward the hospital bed. “From the Children’s Aid Society. I was hoping to have a few moments alone with Haven to talk about what happened.”
“She can’t be questioned alone,” I say. “She’s nine.” I stand, and Wyatt does too.
Priya glances over her shoulder, and Dr. Boxton enters behind her. “Dr. Boxton can act as the other adult in the room. The conversation is confidential.”
Helplessness overwhelms me, and I check with Wyatt, needing some direction. We understand what happened, but I’m not sure how a stranger is going to interpret Haven’s accident. Neglect? Wyatt’s past might influence Priya. His drug use is the stuff of legends.
“I’ll speak to you after.” Priya gives us an encouraging smile.
Her sunny disposition isn’t helping to ease my fear. Women in her job can turn that attitude on and off like a faucet. I shadowed a child protection worker for a movie. When they’re called to a case, things can go downhill quickly.
“We’ll be in the waiting room.” Wyatt links his fingers with mine. He extends his arm to Nikki and draws her to his other side.
I take in their easy camaraderie, thankful they aren’t blaming each other. I’m not sure I could handle any animosity between them. Before we leave the room, I stare at Haven, so tiny and pale in the bed. Her overdose was an accident. Wyatt and I were working. This woman, this stranger, can’t fault us.
“It’ll be okay,” Wyatt whispers in my ear, and we head down the hall.
Nothing is okay right now. In the waiting room, we sit in a cloud of silence, the ticking clock above the door the only sound. Hearing that noise for any length of time will drive me insane. A dripping tap that can’t be switched off.
“I’m going to call Mom and Dad.” Nikki takes her phone out of her pocket. “Text me if you need me to come back right away.”
I squeeze her hand on the way past. Wyatt gives her a curt nod and takes gum out of his pocket. He throws two pieces in his mouth. A now-familiar coping mechanism, but for some reason the action makes my heart drop. The way he does it reminds me of when he used to take pills. He puts his hand on my leg and leans back in the chair. His relaxed attitude is a front; the gum gave him away. But if I didn’t know better, he’d appear unaffected.
Inside, I’m on the cusp of falling apart. We’re in Canada, for God’s sake. They can’t take our kid from us. We don’t even live here. “Why is it taking so long?”
“It’s only been ten minutes.” His eyes remain closed.
“Do you think she’ll take Haven?”
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with people like Priya Sidana.” He cracks open one eye and then the other.
“Jamal?”
“And me and Anna when we were kids. They came knocking. My parents said the right things. Appeared to understand they screwed up. Promised to be better. A situation, one of many, where it helps to be famous.” He sandwiches my hand between his two bigger ones. “Trust me. I realize I’ve screwed up with Anna. This will never happen again.”
“I’m not blaming you.”
“You should. I do. If I’d done something more about Anna and Jamal, we might not be here.”
Earlier I’d had the same thought, but I’m not laying his sister’s choices at his feet. I run my free hand across his shoulders.
He kisses the back of my other hand, which is still clasped between his. “When I got to the trailer and saw Haven lying there, unconscious, my heart, Ellie. I thought it would fall out of my chest and die beside her. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“Knock, knock,” Priya says from the doorway. We turn to look at her. “I have a few questions for both of you and then I think I’ll have everything I need.”
Wyatt wraps one arm around my waist, his other hand in mine. “Have at it,” he says.
Priya perches on one of the chairs across from us. The duct tape repairs on her plastic seat crunch as she settles. Scanning her notes, she then looks up at us, a nervous tilt to her mouth. Her pen is poised to start writing. “So, either of you can answer and then we’ll go from there, okay?”
We both nod. Wyatt does most of the talking. He’s never more charming than when he’s trying to get out of something. Even when the pile of trouble he stumbles into isn’t his, he has two methods of dealing with conflict: he’ll either brawl his way out or turn on his razzle-dazzle star power. Sitting beside him, I have a front-row seat; he’s at full wattage. He anticipates each question, an answer at the ready. He said he’s done this before with people like her, but I can’t help wondering how many times. None of the questions trip him. He’s smooth, confident, filled with the best answers. Was this how he learned to talk his way in or out of things? Was this his childhood?
When Stars Fall Page 30
