by Portia Moore
“Yeah.”
“You want me to come to Megan’s?”
“No!” I cough out. “I’ll text you a place we can meet up at.”
He hesitates. “Okay. Is everything cool, Kam?”
“It will be once we talk.”
3
Ian
I saw it happen.
I ran out after Megan, but she didn’t hear me calling her name. She ran out into that road like she was blind, like she didn’t hear or see anything at all, and I was too far away to stop it from happening. When I saw her lying in the street it was the most terrifying thing I ever experienced.
For Alana…and for Megan, too. She was out cold, bleeding. I had no idea if I would ever hear her voice again. If I would ever see her open her eyes.
And now I’m sitting in a hospital waiting room, impatient for someone to give me some kind of information. The ambulance told me they were taking her to Rush Hospital and to meet her at the Emergency Room, but since then she’s apparently been moved. No one will tell me where she is. I’m clueless as to what’s been going on. It’s been seven hours. It’s infuriating, because I’m her husband—but I’m not. The hospital has Megan, and they don’t give a shit that I’m married to Alana.
It doesn’t make me any less fucking pissed about it.
I try again, walking up to the receptionist—a new one since the shift change—and giving her my most charming smile. “I’m trying to get information on a patient,” I tell her, giving her Megan’s full name. Hoping again that it will get me somewhere. And if not, well, my good looks and personality have opened doors in the past.
“And you are?”
Her fucking husband. I smile at her. “A friend, a worried one. I haven’t seen her since I put her in the ambulance.”
Does that count for anything? I was fucking there when it happened!
“I’m sorry,” she says regretfully. “I can’t give you any information, sir. You’re not listed as a relative, and only immediate family is allowed to have any information about the patient released to them.”
I’ve been calm. I’ve been calm for hours. And I can feel myself losing it. “I saw her get hit by a car,” I say firmly, staring at the receptionist. All effort at charming her is gone. “I saw my bloody, hurt, unconscious friend get taken to the ER, not knowing if she was going to make it, and all I can find out is that she’s been moved. Moved where?” I grit my teeth and scowl down at her. “Is she alive? Is she dead? I don’t fucking know, because this whole goddamn place is locked down like Fort fucking Knox! Someone needs to give me some fucking answers, so I know if I’m ever going to see her again!”
“I…I’ll call someone else, sir, I just…I can’t tell you anything.” The receptionist is stammering, reaching for the phone, and I half expect security to come and escort me out. I know I was shouting, by the end of that. But I can’t help it. It’s like the night Alana left me all over again, except then I was at least mostly sure she was alive. Now for all I know, she could be dead. My last memory of being close to her might be kissing a woman goodbye that had her face but not her voice, a body I know so intimately with another person inside of it. It’s the craziest shit I’ve ever had to deal with, but I still wanted her. I still do.
It wouldn’t be Alana if it wasn’t the craziest shit. And I want to kiss Alana again. I want my wife. And I don’t want her asking me to stop touching her to be the last thing I ever hear coming out of her mouth.
A tall, well-dressed man steps out of the door behind the reception desk, and smiles politely at me. “I’m sorry for the confusion,” he says. “What was your name?”
“Ian Hudson,” I say. “My friend, Megan, was picked up by an ambulance and brought to the Emergency Room here. She’s since been moved, and no one will tell me anything about where she is or how she’s doing. She was in critical condition, and I’m losing it.” I speak as professionally as I can to him, holding my temper in on a tight leash. But my patience is thinning.
“She’s stable,” the man assures me. “She’s out of danger and doing much better. She’s been moved to a different part of the hospital per a VIP order.”
Fuck! I know exactly what’s going on now—Cal has clearly gotten involved. Lauren was the first person I called after Megan was loaded into the ambulance, figuring that she would pass on the news—and I didn’t want to talk to Cal. I had no idea he’d even made it to the hospital yet—I would have thought that Lauren would have texted me to let me know that he was on his way. “Thanks,” I tell the man shortly, and walk back to the row of seats where Hillary is waiting for me.
She insisted on riding over with me, telling me that I didn’t need to be alone. The last thing I really want right now is company, but it was nice of her. I think of how Megan looked at me when she saw Hillary alone with me. How it wasn’t Alana that was jealous, but Megan. And I remember how it wasn’t Alana that I kissed earlier in my apartment, who I felt giving in, who let me press against her body, whose hands explored mine. It was Megan. It was also Megan who ran out of the apartment directly into traffic because she was so traumatized.
I call Lauren back, stepping outside for a moment. She answers immediately.
“Ian? How are you?”
“No one is letting me see her,” I say shortly, still on edge from my most recent interaction. “I don’t even know what part of the hospital she’s in anymore. They admitted her as Megan, and so I can’t even say I’m her husband. No one is giving me a damn thing.”
“But I sent Cal to the hospital to meet with you.” The confusion in Lauren’s voice is evident. “I’ll call Cal,” she says finally. “I’ll talk to him and have him fix everything.” I can tell that she’s trying to sound confident, but there’s some unease in her tone. “Just wait there. I’ll call him right now.”
All I can do is go back and sit down beside Hillary. She looks at me sympathetically, touching my shoulder in a way that’s meant to be reassuring, but just makes me tense. I haven’t been this on edge in a long time. “They said she’s stable, at least,” she says. “So that’s good news.”
“I still don’t know where she is.” I look away. “Cal’s there. So now he’s talked to her, seen her, but I still haven’t.”
“I didn’t know you and Lauren were so close,” she says quietly.
I shrug. “We’re not but, I guess…not a lot of people get it,” I admit with a groan, not really expressing enough for her to understand. I can barely think straight. She nods her head.
“I may not understand exactly, Ian, but…you can talk to me, if you want.”
I just shake my head. There’s only one woman I want to talk to, and she’s somewhere in this hospital.
And I’m not leaving until I see her.
4
Cal
When Megan showed up at the gallery that day it spooked me and for a few seconds I had a glimpse of how Chris felt when Lauren showed up at his doorstep, but thank God she wasn’t a girl I screwed from my playboy days with a kid at her side…she was family. It scared the shit out of me and made me angry at the same time.
I’m not a fan of being blindsided, and it was a complete blindside. I had always planned to find out about my siblings. I remember bits and pieces of them from when I was young. I knew they were out there but the time of all this when it happened—and even now—isn’t fucking ideal. I have a wife heavily pregnant with twins, and after all the shit she’s gone through I didn’t want her to be a part of it until I had it all figured out.
Needless to say, when Megan showed up I had nothing figured out and fuck if anything about our life is ever easy. Just a string of complications. It only makes sense that they’d be as fucked up as I am. I knew it’d be the case but my priority was to protect Lauren and keep her happy and content as long as possible so that my girls arrive in the world happy, healthy, and safe. It’s been the one thing we came together to agree on, and it took not only Lauren but two new babies’ wellbeing to get us all on the same page. Our daughters. Meg
an made things complicated because once I found out she was who she said she was, I couldn’t turn my back on her. Her looks were a dead giveaway. Our features are almost mirrors of one another, just on the opposite sides of femininity and masculinity. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she turned out to be my damned twin.
I couldn’t ignore her or set her on a shelf to be picked up until after my babies arrived. Even if I wanted to Lauren sure as hell wasn’t having it. The moment she left, Lauren stayed on my ass about finding out if she was the real deal, not leaving her on her own, how important family is. I didn’t plan on doing that, I just didn’t want my wife to be involved until I could figure out Megan’s deal. I expected her to suffer from maybe depression, bipolar disorder—hell, even schizophrenia—but never DID. Once I realized she had the same monster under her bed as me I couldn’t let her fight with it alone. Especially since she pretty much had no damn clue what was going on with her. Megan didn’t but I have a sneaking suspicion that Alana would have, or did. I believed that up until now because for a while I don’t think she knew who I was. Which makes me wonder what part of the brain she’s the lord over because I always knew what was happening within me…well, unless I didn’t want to.
“How close are you and Megan?” she asks me directly. She’s suspicious of me and I can’t blame her. I already know how this goes.
“I wouldn’t say we are. My life is complicated and obviously hers was too. I made sure she had what she needed and let her know that I was there if she needed me. We’re not best friends or anything though,” I tell her, and I see her relax a little.
“This is weird,” she says gruffly, her eyes going to her lap.
“Yeah,” I agree. She lets out a long breath, this time straightening her back out.
“Well it looks like things turned out pretty well for you,” she says, condescension and annoyance wafting through her tone. I see her walls that were down briefly being built back up.
“I wasn’t always like this,” I tell her candidly. She eyes me disbelievingly.
“Yeah, and I wasn’t always a bitch but life happens right?” She’s pushing herself to get out of bed but winces in pain.
“So you want to tell me what happened?” I ask, getting more comfortable in my chair. She rolls her eyes at me.
“I’d rather you help me get out of here. You’re rich, right? I’m assuming you can.” She says, disregarding my question.
“You should start by answering my question,” I insist. I’m starting to become irritated.
“I obviously didn’t run into traffic on purpose…and Megan didn’t either. We sort of were having a disagreement and didn’t realize we were in the middle of the street,” she informs me, exasperated.
“That’s concerning, don’t you think?” I ask, frowning at her.
“Can we not step into the cliché roles of big brother telling the little sister how stupid she is? I really, really need to get out of here. I hate hospitals and I have a lot to do,” she says pointedly. I laugh at her which makes her scowl at me.
“Is it just you two?” I ask. She looks at me, confused.
“I sure as hell hope so,” she growls.
Before I can reply my phone goes off in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at it, and see that Lauren’s calling me. I want to keep talking to Alana since it seems like we may be getting somewhere, but I know better than to ignore Lauren’s call. That’s one lesson I’ve learned well.
“Just hang on,” I tell Alana as I answer it.
“Not like I can go anywhere,” I hear her mutter.
“Cal!” Lauren says as I answer, her voice shrill and upset, making me wonder why the hell she is letting herself get so worked up. The doctor told her to relax so she doesn’t go into labor early. “What is going on? I just talked to Ian, and he said no one will tell him anything, and he hasn’t seen Megan! I sent you there to talk to him! Why haven’t you done that?”
Fucking Ian.
“Jesus, calm down, Lauren. I’m handling it, alright? Don’t get the babies all worked up.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she says, her voice dangerously irritated. “I know you think you can handle everything yourself, but Ian is on the verge of a rampage if he doesn’t find out something soon. Think about the other people in this, alright?”
Think of Ian? Ian didn’t fucking think to not call and get my pregnant wife’s blood pressure up.
“Yeah,” I tell her dryly.
“Fix this, Cal,” she tells me, and hangs up.
Fuck Ian.
I pull out my phone and text him to not call Lauren again and that I’ll meet with him soon. Asshole.
“Who was that?” Alana asks insolently.
“My wife,” I tell her shortly, shoving my phone back into my pocket.
“She’s pregnant?” she asks, and for the first time no hostility is in her tone.
“Twins,” I reply. She nods with a smile.
“How…how do you guys make it work?” she asks quietly.
“Work, compromise…a lot of fucking compromise.” She looks at me defiantly before rolling her eyes.
“Want to tell me about Ian?” I ask.
Her face goes still and cold. She tightens her arms around herself, shaking her head. She’s just about to respond when the door opens, and both Dexter and Helen walk in. Alana’s eyes go wide, and I grimace. What the hell are they doing here?
I haven’t said a damn thing to Dexter, haven’t called him, texted him, or anything else. Helen, either. But of course he would know what’s happening; he fucking always does. It’s the bane of my existence.
“Good morning, Alana,” Dexter says pleasantly.
My head snaps around. “Dexter, my wise older brother. Couldn’t pick up the phone to tell me I have a sister?” Him and I haven’t been much on speaking terms. He’s still a little upset that our dad is in prison and I sort of had something to do with it, but I at least thought something like this would have made him reach out.
“You’ve had so much on your plate little brother, but it seems as if you figured things out just fine on your own,” he says coolly.
He gestures at Helen, and she steps forward. “Alana, this is Helen. She’ll be in charge of your care from here on out.” Alana stares at her a few moments before frowning.
“I know who she is. She’s Megan’s therapist,” she says pointedly. Dexter glances between us all. Helen steps up towards Alana now.
“I’ve heard a lot about you Alana,” Helen says with a soft warm smile that makes you feel like it’s going to be alright, that I saw right through, but ensnared Lauren.
Alana scowls at Helen and I recognize that look. She’s about to flip out any minute. She glares at Dexter, then me, and then back at Helen. “I want out of this fucking hospital! Why won’t anyone listen to me? I didn’t fucking try to kill myself, alright? I want to go home, and I want to talk to who I want to, without any of you fucking managing me. I can take care of myself!”
“Alana,” Helen says calmly, taking a step forward. She’s probably used to patients exploding on her. “Listen to me, okay? You have to stay here for observation for seventy-two hours, and then you’ll be released if you show you’re not a danger to yourself. We can possibly push for you to be released to one of us, but that’s a long shot. The more you cooperate, the easier this will be, okay? We’re here to help you, Alana.”
The look Alana gives Dexter is blistering, enough to make me flinch, but Dexter doesn’t seem bothered at all. I guess he’s used to getting death stares.
“Dexter,” Alana says sweetly.
“Yes, Alana?” he says, consolatory.
“If you’re not going to get me out of here, you can go fuck yourself,” Alana says with the same sweet smile on her face. Dexter rolls his eyes and seems only slightly bothered. I guess I was good training ground for him to deal with her.
I try to stop myself from laughing but I can’t. Dexter and Helen glare at me.
“Alana, I underst
and that you’re not used to having a support system, that you don’t trust many people, but everyone in this room is here to help you. We have your best interest at heart,” Helen explains calmly.
“Mine or Megan’s?” Alana asks sharply. Dexter sighs and glances at me, like a cue for me to say something meaningful, but I don’t have shit to say. I’m enjoying the show right about now.
“I think that Cal can speak to the fact that your wellbeing is one and the same even if he’s choosing to not participate in our little reunion.”
I let out a groan. I guess it’s time to wrap this up.
“If anyone can get you out of here, it’s these two. Play nice, they like that,” I tell her, standing up.
Alana meets my eyes. I don’t know if it’s that an understanding is beginning to develop between us, or if it’s that Megan trusts me and she’s still in there somewhere, but Alana looks directly at me, ignoring both Dexter and Helen. “If you can push like hell for that to happen I’d be grateful. I’m sure a wing of this hospital is probably named after you right? But if not…I’d like to be released to Cal’s custody.” All of their glares land on me. I look at her to see if she’s kidding but her face is deadpan, her eyes challenging mine. She wants to come home with me? That sure as hell can’t happen. I have enough shit going on!
Dexter waves a dismissive hand. “Cal has a lot on his plate with Lauren’s pregnancy. My home is more equipped for this. We have plenty of space and Helen will be able to monitor you.”
“Okay,” I say, and the minute it comes out of my mouth I know it’s a mistake. Dexter’s right. I have way too much shit going on, but if it was me the last thing I’d want is to be a lab rat in Dexter’s mansion with Helen nagging me every second of the day. She can’t be that bad.
“Cal,” Dexter says, his voice low and angry, “Lauren is due in the next few weeks. You’re sure you’re able to take this on?” he asks, meeting my eyes.
“Take this on? I’m not a fucking three-year-old. He’s not going to have to wipe my ass. All of you are rich as hell right? I’m sure he has the room, and he’ll hardly know I’m there. Trust me,” she says easily.
