by Lucia Black
A vibrating in the thick pocket of my dress finally registered. I pulled it out and saw Jolene’s name on the screen. I’d been so concerned about Cal and Preston I forgot there were other people in the world who cared about them.
It took three tries for my slick fingers to swipe across the screen. “Hello? Jolene?”
“Tessa? Oh my God, is it really you?” She was yelling, or at least I thought she was. I wasn’t sure if my senses were working.
“Yes, yes. I’m here.” I clutched the phone to my ear with both hands.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I’m not hurt I—”
She cut me off to ask her own questions and that was okay with me. It helped me know that she was fine, too and being herself. “I can’t get ahold of Preston or any of the aides who gave me their numbers as emergency contacts, and if this isn’t an emergency, then I don’t know what the fuck is!”
“He’s fine. I was told he is okay. They are taking me to the hospital right now to see Cal.”
“What have they told you, Tessa? Is he okay?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I don’t really know what’s going on. What did she you see? Were you watching when it happened?”
“Yes. We were watching. There was a delay, but . . . it looked like Cal got shot.”
That wasn’t a surprise to me. I knew that even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it but hearing her say it made it more real. “Did Libby see that? Was she watching?”
There was so much more to this tragedy to consider than I initially realized. How many kids were watching? How deeply would this affect them?
“I don’t think she knows what happened. It cut out pretty quickly, and then I turned it off. I told her the TV broke. She seemed pretty satisfied with that answer. But then Marines showed up and she was questioning it, but I told her it was a special day and we need more special people. They’re with the agents right now.”
I admired Jolene’s ability to think so quickly and smoothly on her feet. That was a skill I didn’t have. I guessed that came with being a parent.
“But you and Libby are safe?”
“Yes, we’re safe. Believe me, I don’t even know if you could get in this house right now with all the people we have here.”
I blew out a breath and one of the many pits in my stomach disappeared. “I’m so thankful Preston didn’t want Libby there today. Still keeping her out of the spotlight . . .” My voice cracked and wavered, thick with emotion at the idea she could have been there. “I’m still not sure if Cal is okay. I can’t help but think they’re lying to me to keep me calm until we get there. And I don’t know where Preston is either.”
“It’ll be okay, Tessa. If someone told you he’s okay, then I’m sure he’s okay. Whatever happened to Cal, you and Preston will get through it together.”
“You’re right.” The words hit home. She was telling me everything I needed to hear, but I couldn’t help but feel like they were empty. She wasn’t like that. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
“I’m almost there, Jolene. I’ll message you as soon as I know what’s going on.”
“Okay. Call me, please. I can’t stand this not knowing.”
I ended the call and stared at the hospital looming right outside the car. The sun from earlier had vanished, covered by rolling clouds. How could the weather know what mood to be in?
We pulled into the parking garage and I had to fight the urge to run inside and see Cal as quickly as possible, but I didn’t know where he was. I didn’t think I was in danger, but who the hell would know anymore?
Two agents and two Marines lined the few steps I had to take from the car to the automatic doors of the hospital. A burst of warm air hit me as soon as I passed through, and the sterile smell that filled the hallways overwhelmed my nostrils.
“We’ve cleared a room for you to wait in,” Agent Penner said.
I nodded even though no one was looking directly at me.
My boots clicked against the shiny floor, and even though a sheen of sweat covered my forehead, we weren’t moving quickly enough. We eventually arrived at a quiet hall of the hospital where the rooms appeared to be empty and there were no staff milling around.
“You can wait here, Mrs. James. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
They led me to an ordinary hospital waiting room with a couch, a TV, and a coffee maker.
“Thank you,” I said.
I didn’t want to be alone, but I didn’t want to be with any of the agents either. The only people in the world who could make me feel better were Cal and Preston, and I didn’t know where either of them was.
I sat down on one of the recliners, but then stood back up again. I paced the floor for a few minutes but walking in small circles was making me nauseous. When neither of those things distracted me enough for me to calm down, I reached up to the TV mounted on the wall and turned it on. It was on the home station and one of the dozens of renovation shows was on.
But the inane chatter grated my nerves like a fork scraping a plate, so I turned it back off. Instead of sitting down, I perched against the table holding the coffee table and took out my phone. There were too many missed calls and texts to answer, so I ignored them all and messaged my mom, just to let her know I was okay. As soon as the message was sent, she was calling me, but I didn’t have the energy. I assured her again that I was okay and that I loved her, but I couldn't talk, and then turned my phone off.
What the hell is going on? Is anyone ever going to talk to me?
Just when I felt like my skin was going to peel right off my bones with worry, the door to the waiting room opened up and a middle-aged woman wearing a white coat and a grim expression passed through the door.
I jumped up from the table, my head spinning with the quick movement, and hurried over to her. “How is he? Is he okay? Where is he? Can I see him?”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was asking the questions too quickly for her to answer them, but I needed to know all those things and I needed to know them now.
“Yes, we have a lot to talk about, Mrs. James.”
Chapter 20
Dr. Patel wasn’t the kind of doctor who kept her expression neutral. Her russet skin was smooth for her age, but there were unmistakable frown lines marring it in places. Her dark eyes were naturally down-turned, and it was hard not to think she was going to tell me my husband was dead.
“Why don’t you have a seat.” She gestured to the empty couch.
“No, thank you. Can you please just tell me what’s going on?”
Her gaze swept over me as if she were assessing me to see if I could handle the news. Whatever she saw it must have satisfied her because she did as I asked.
“Your husband was shot in the shoulder and he had to have surgery.”
I blew out a long breath. A shoulder wound could be nothing. Even if he had to have surgery. “And? How is he now?”
“He’s quite lucky. The bullet didn’t hit anything vital, but he lost a lot of blood. Surgery to retrieve the bullet went well, and now he’s resting.”
“Oh, thank God,” I sighed. Despite her matter-of-fact demeanor, I wanted to hug her. “So, he’s going to be okay?”
“He will need some physical therapy, but I don’t foresee any complications. He may have a minor loss of mobility, but it won’t be substantial.” Even when delivering good news, Dr. Patel’s smile was small. “He’s heavily medicated right now, but he’s been asking for you repeatedly ever since he got here.”
“Then I need to see him.” I knew my tone conveyed urgency—everything about me in that moment did—but Dr. Patel didn’t move.
“You can see him, but I need you to keep it short. He needs to rest.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “That’s fine. I will.”
“Good. Then follow me.”
Dr. Patel turned and walked with purpose out of the room. I followed after her and Secret Service followed after me
. There couldn’t have possibly been a threat to me. I don’t know how they did it, but the halls and rooms we walked past were totally empty.
One man and one woman wearing scrubs stood at the nurse’s station as we passed by, but that was it. Hospitals weren’t normally a happy place to be unless someone just had a healthy baby. It’s not like I was expecting the whole place to be cheerful, but there was something worse about an empty hospital. There was no life, sick or not.
I tried to remind myself it was good news and Cal was alive, but I couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of doom. Someone shot Cal, someone might try to shoot him again. Hell, someone might try to shoot me. The reality of that situation settled around me like smoke in a house fire. It choked my airways and made my vision blur. I couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t protect myself. We were walking targets, apparently. Even my family couldn’t protect him from this, and maybe, just maybe, they were why he was being shot at in the first place. I just didn’t know.
I clutched at my stomach, something like fear and anxiety gnawing on my insides. I just needed to see him. I thought if I saw him and he was okay that maybe I could be okay. Even though we walked by at least half a dozen hospital rooms, Cal was at the end of the hall.
“This is his room,” Dr. Patel said as though all the security posted outside didn’t give it away.
“Thank you,” I said, my mouth feeling dry. I was a different person than I was a few hours ago.
“I’ll give you a few minutes of privacy, and then I really do need him to rest. You understand?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Just a few minutes.”
“He’s loopy from the painkillers and anesthesia. He’s lost a lot of blood, so he’ll look quite pale. Don’t him worked up.”
“Yes,” I told her. “I understand.”
She gave me a tight-lipped smile and stepped aside to allow me in.
Secret Service stepped aside and let me through. The door slowly shut behind me, but with the pale blue and white curtain pulled I still couldn’t see him.
“Cal?” I called out to announce myself.
When he didn’t say anything, I pulled back the curtain.
Finally, there he was.
The bed was mostly reclined, but Cal was propped up a bit. His hair was all pushed back and matted, he had a breathing tube in his nose, and he had an IV hooked up to him. Wires and machines that beeped were everywhere.
“Oh, Cal,” I sighed.
Walking on eggshells as if my steps would somehow be too much for him to handle, I made my way over to him.
“Tessa.” My name came out like a hoarse whisper.
“I’m here.” I went to grab his hand and then thought better of it. There were bandages and a sling to keep his arm immobile. I moved around to his right side to avoid accidentally hurting him.
Seeing him that way, in a bed bandaged up and helpless, it was terrible.
He wasn’t immortal.
He wasn’t immune to pain.
His eyes fluttered closed, but then he opened them again. I gingerly placed my hand over his. They were warm, and I took that as a good sign. Somehow, warm seemed better than cold.
“Are you okay?” Before he could answer I laughed. “Of course, you’re not.” It wasn’t funny, and I knew that, but I couldn’t stop laughing. I was uncomfortable and hurting and so fucking scared I couldn’t handle it.
“Tessa.” Cal gave my hand a good squeeze. “It’s okay.”
I wiped my eyes and held back my sob. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been shot,” he grunted. “But they gave me a morphine pump. I can’t feel much of anything now.”
“That’s better than being in pain, right?” I felt myself being off, but I couldn’t help it. I felt off.
Cal tried to sit up but when he shifted, he winced.
“Don’t move.” I reached over to the high railings near the sides of his head and pushed the button to raise him up just a hair. I knew he needed to be reclined.
“Tessa,” he said once he could better meet my gaze. “I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head as a few tears escaped. “Don’t be.” I rubbed at my nose with the back of my hand. For a fleeting moment, I thought about how shitty I must’ve looked with a red nose and mascara all over the place. “This isn’t your fault. I’m sorry you weren’t better protected. I don’t know what happened. It shouldn’t have happened. . .”
I trailed off. My thoughts were jumbled and my feelings unclear.
“Not that. I’m sorry for Preston. And for us. And for our relationship. I’m sorry for everything.”
“It’s fine.” I stroked my thumb against his cheek. It was so soft. “Don’t worry about that now. Don’t worry about anything but getting better.”
“I’m not worried.” He leaned into my touch. “We need to talk about our future. Together. With Preston.”
“Cal,” I smiled down at him. Part of me wanted to hug him, part of me wanted to have a four-hour-long conversation about our future, but the biggest part of me wanted him to rest. “We can talk about whatever you want later.”
“No.” His eyes sharpened, and his voice firmed. “I want to talk about this now. You, and me, and Preston. We need to work this out. I want to work this out.”
I was crying. It wasn’t just a few tears anymore. It was a steady stream. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t hear him say all the things I wanted to hear if he didn’t mean them. “You’re on drugs right now. We aren’t going to talk about this.”
“Yes, we are.” He shifted again, and there was focus and determination all over his face. “I almost died, Tessa. Now is as good a time as any.”
I shook my head, giving in. “Fine.”
“You were right. Life is too . . . too sh-h-hhort. I want to . . . to . . .”
“Cal?” His speech started to slur, and his eyes glazed. I knew the meds would take over, and as much as I wanted to believe what he was saying, I couldn’t.
“Tessa, please . . . I—I don’t want to waste time. Just like you said. I want you to have everything you want and I . . . you . . . we can . . . with Preston, and . . .”
He was hardly making any sense and I was too drained from the day to talk about it. I knew that he was okay. But I couldn’t focus on our relationship. I was tired, my head was pounding, and my whole body hurt.
“We can talk about this later if you still want to. We’ll do it when Preston can join us for the conversation.”
I didn’t want to put that much faith into it. I knew he got shot, and I could only imagine how much that would change a person’s perspective on life, but I didn’t want him making promises he was never going to keep. I didn’t want to have a talk without Preston either. I knew what it felt like to be the one who was on the outside of the decision and it didn’t feel right.
“But for now—”
Dr. Patel opened the door to the room, and whispered, “Okay, that’s enough for today. I’m sorry, Mrs. James. The President needs his rest.”
I glanced at Cal and his eyes had already closed. I lowered the bed back down so he could get some rest, kissed his cheek, and moved away from his bedside.
I considered asking Dr. Patel just how much medication Cal was on so I could agonize over whether or not he meant anything he said, but then I thought better of it. There was nothing she could say that would make me feel better anyway.
“Thank you, Dr. Patel.”
I turned to move past her, but I don’t know what happened. I swayed on my feet and Dr. Patel’s arm shot out to steady me. She grasped onto me and held firmly onto my forearm.
“Th-thank you. I don’t know what happened. I just got so dizzy.” I tried to shake loose, but she wouldn’t let me.
“Have you eaten today, Mrs. James?” she asked, looking at me with concern.
“Uh, yeah. I think so? I’m fine, it’s just my husband. He’s been shot.” In the back of my mind, I knew she knew that. I knew we were in the hospital and she was his doctor
, but I couldn’t articulate anything.
“Mrs. James, you look pale. I’m going to help you into this chair over here. Let’s get you off your feet.” I could feel myself swaying against her hold.
She led me to the chair in the corner of Cal’s room and sat me down. As soon as my butt hit the chair, my head felt heavy. She had a flashlight in my eyes, and I winced at the brightness.
“I’m fine,” I told her. But even I knew it didn’t sound convincing.
“I need you to sit here, Mrs. James. I’m sure everything is fine, but I need to examine you. It’s not safe for you to walk.”
Dr. Patel turned and readied the wheelchair that had been sitting by the door to Cal’s room. She wheeled it over to me. This was silly. I was just tired. I started to move myself to the wheelchair, and I planned to tell her I didn’t need help. Then my vision went blurry. I couldn’t feel my body anymore. All of my thoughts and my bones swam away, and everything faded to black as I heard my name being called from a distance.
Chapter 21
Scratchy sheets, a flat pillow, and constant, annoying, infuriating beeping woke me from my sleep. I rolled over. I was far too tired for it to be morning, and all I wanted was to try to go back to sleep. But as I turned, there was a stinging pain in my hand and a tugging on my nostrils.
“Ow,” I groaned. I rolled back over and opened my eyes. The ceiling was low and made up of removable tiles, the beeping sounded nothing like my alarm, and the light was bright from large windows.
I wasn’t at home. I wasn’t in my bed. I shot up only to be pulled back down again by the tubes connected to my body.
Slowly, it all started coming back to me.
Cal was shot.
He had surgery.
And then . . . and then . . . I had nothing.
“About time you woke up.”
I blinked up at the ceiling. I knew that voice.
