Huen: Sci-Fi and Fantasy Romance (Zhekan Mates Book 2)

by E. A. James

  She hesitated at the front door, nervousness making her shiver. She shook this off to and entered the mansion.

  Even if the majority of Hanes’s family hated her, Gina didn’t. And that was something Frankie held on to give her courage as she searched through the house for any Copper she could find.

  She should have figured that they would have remained in the dining room. Though their sullen expressions and hunched shoulders were such a surprising sight that Frankie actually gaped at them for a second.

  “Um, excuse me,” Frankie said.

  They all jumped and turned to her.

  “Frankie,” Hanes’s mother said, relief in her tone. She pressed a bony hand to her clavicle. “How are you feeling, darling? I apologize for our appalling behavior beforehand. Greed can do the worst to good people.”

  The rest of them murmured their own apologies. All except Gina and Thomas—Gina who was absent, and Thomas who stared at the table cloth like it was a television screen.

  Frankie blinked owlishly, taken aback. Affection and relief floored her—damn hormones. She smiled wide. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She pointedly glanced around. “I was just wondering where Hanes had gone off to. He left here a while ago and he isn’t back yet.”

  “He left?” his mother said, face scrunching. “Where would he go to?”

  Exactly, Frankie thought.

  “Probably to those bulls,” Thomas said, shaking his head a little. “He always goes bull riding when he’s upset, when he’s ecstatic—he’s addicted to risking his life in the dumbest way possible.”

  “Right,” Frankie said, pursing her lips. He did love the danger of bull-riding—the rush, the distraction. That made sense. “Then could one of you drive me to wherever he would go to do that? I need to talk to him.”

  “Thomas will,” their mother said shortly, glaring at the man in question. “He needs to apologize to his brother, anyway.”

  Thomas’s eyes snapped to his mother. But if he had been planning to protest the order, that plan the second he saw the angered expression on the old woman’s face. He sighed and scooted backward.

  “Thanks,” Frankie said, uncomfortable. She hadn’t wanted to drive with any of them, but Thomas? He seemed to hate her the most. Nausea churned within her gut.

  Thomas nodded, standing up before motioning her to follow him.

  Frankie waved an awkward goodbye to everyone else before she hurried after Thomas.

  Frankie’s cheeks reddened once she realized that Hanes was at the stadium where his trailer was. Of course. Feeling foolish, she slid lower into her seat as Thomas parked the car as close as he could to the trailer. The whole Copper family must think she is too stupid and poor for someone like Hanes.

  “If I tell mom I apologized,” Thomas said, not looking at her, “would you and Hanes be willing to saying that it actually happened?”

  “Lie? To your mother?” Frankie would have laughed if she wasn’t busy hating herself and worrying about Hanes.

  Thomas groaned. “Just asking.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door.

  Frankie was quick to do the same.

  Distant sirens grew louder and louder—so fast, so near. Frankie and Thomas stopped, both of them turning in the direction of the sound.

  The street by the stadium was mostly bare, save for a car or two that drove down it every so often. For an ambulance to sound so close seemed ominous. There was nothing out here, no fires, no emergencies, no—

  An ambulance came into view, speeding into the parking lot before screeching to a halt in front of the stadium’s entrance.

  Frankie went ice-cold. Nothing but instinct held her up, her blood feeling as if it was losing all of its density. Weightless yet freezing.

  “No,” she said. “Thomas, that’s not—”

  Thomas moved toward the ambulance, his steps sluggish yet purposeful. There was a tension in his shoulders, a tension that Frankie had never seen in him before.

  “Thomas?” she said, panting—no, hyperventilating. She pressed both of her hands over her belly, her growing child. “Thomas? That’s not for Hanes. Tell me that’s not for Hanes.”

  Thomas just kept moving forward.

  Frankie stopped breathing altogether. The suspended sense of fear was too agonizing, so eventually, she found herself following Thomas—her legs working on their own accord, as wobbly as they moved.

  By the time that she and Thomas reached the ambulance, the paramedics were already wheeling a gurney out of a stadium and toward the vehicle. A bloodied figure was strapped to it, his entire body wrapped in blankets while his limbs, waist, and head were strapped down.

  The paramedics were bringing the gurney to the back of the ambulance when Frankie got a clear view of the victim’s face.

  “Hanes!” Tears poured out of her eyes and she rushed forward, only to be stopped by Thomas. Panic—turning into energy—turning into rage and pain—it seared through her, and she thrashed in Thomas’s arms. “Hanes! No, please, no!” She beat her fists against Thomas’s shoulder, a sob tearing out of her throat. “Let me go! Let me go!”

  One paramedic held up her hand while her colleagues worked to get the gurney up and into the back of ambulance. When that was accomplished, she looked up at them. “You’re related to the victim?”

  “Yes,” Thomas croaked, sounding as wrecked as Frankie felt. “She—she’s his fiancé.”

  Frankie was too focused on Hanes to fully comprehend what Thomas had just said.

  The paramedic nodded at her. “Get in.” Then she looked at Thomas. “We’ll be going to Saint Thomas Hospital on River Street.”

  Thomas released her, and Frankie dashed forward. Mindlessly, she crawled up into the vehicle and crouched by Hanes’s blooded form. She ignored the seat—ignored everything else but Hanes.

  Shakily, Frankie placed one hand on the gurney and the other one over Hanes’s own hand. It was warm yet clammy, stained red.

  The ambulance doors shut, and the vehicle jolted before speeding away.

  The paramedics were yelling things at each other over the piercing sound of the siren, the vehicle shaking a bit every so often.

  Frankie dared to squeeze Hanes’s hand. The lack of reaction made her cry harder.

  “I need you to be okay,” she choked out, leaning toward his head. “WE need you to be okay, Hanes. Wake up, please. Please.”

  He didn’t respond.

  Frankie felt something in her chest give out. It wasn’t her heart—it was hammering so hard—but something significant inside of her seemed to shut down. She felt herself breathe, but each inhale and exhale didn’t mean anything to her. It was like a numbed kind of pain, as if a part of her sensory system died.

  She dared to squeeze Hanes’s hand a little tighter.

  Once they reached the hospital, the paramedics moved too fast for Frankie to keep up. She tried to—reached for the gurney and everything as she ran, but as they rushed through several sets of doors, she found herself slowing. And then she was pulled back—by a nurse, presumably, but it might as well have been gravity yanking Frankie back.

  She ended up in a plastic chair in the waiting room somehow. Frankie continued to cry, but it did not add any pressure to her torso nor did it relieve any. She was detached from herself.

  Frankie was shaking and clawing her hands into one another when the other Coppers arrived.

  “Frankie,” Hanes’s mother said, grabbing Frankie’s shoulder and shaking it. “Darling, look at us. Say something. How is Hanes doing?” The old woman shook Frankie a little harder. “Frankie.”

  Frankie managed to raise her sore eyes to Hanes’s mom. “I don’t know. He was…he looked bad.” Her face crumpled, more tears escaping her eyes.

  Hanes’s mother was quick to hug her, and Frankie sobbed into her bony shoulder.

  Nearby, she could hear the others murmuring worriedly to one another.

  Hours later—though it felt like days—Frankie had finally stopped crying, and
Hanes’s surgeon came out to speak with them all.

  Frankie stood, her legs wobbling and forcing her to lean against Hanes’s mother. The old woman held on to her tightly, strong as ever.

  “He is going to be fine,” the surgeon said, his smile full of tiredness and relief. “He has a few broken ribs, a concussion—” He listed all the injuries, what they did to fix Hanes up, and how much time it would take for Hanes to heal fully.

  Frankie nearly cried with relief, but fortunately, her eyes seemed to have used up all of the tears she could muster in one day. Wet gasps left her though as she leaned more heavily against Hanes’s mother.

  “Can we see him,” she blurted the second the surgeon stopped speaking.

  He blinked, frowned, and then sighed. “He really needs to be resting right now. I advise only a few of you at a time visit him until he is in better condition.”

  The old woman gently pushed Frankie. “Go. You see him first, darling.”

  Frankie stumbled forward, following the surgeon through some large doors and then down a couple of hallways. When a nurse walked toward them, the doctor took her aside and whispered something to her. She faced Frankie as the surgeon hurried down an adjacent hall.

  “Follow me, sweetie,” the nurse said, waving Frankie toward herself. “Your fiancé is in Room 32, right over here.”

  Fiancé? As Frankie’s brain mulled over the memory of Thomas’s earlier lie, she quickly followed the nurse to an opened door that lead into a stark white room.

  Frankie peered into it—looking over the nurse’s shoulders. The room’s windows were covered in blinds, but everything still felt too bright. She squinted. Then her eyes landed on Hanes, bandaged and pale. He looked…wrong, but Frankie was relieved that he wasn’t covered in blood anymore.

  “If you need anything,” the nurse said, turning and pointing down the right hallway, “the nurse’s station is just around this corner.”

  Frankie breathed out a weak “thanks” as she walked up to Hanes’s bed.

  With the exception of his chest moving up and down in a painfully slow rhythm, he remained stiff.

  Frankie, once again, grabbed his hand and squeezed. Still warm.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, voice cracked but otherwise clear. She sniffled and blinked hard, trying to focus. “I’m so sorry about overreacting earlier. I should have known better. I should have trusted you. Please…please don’t ever do this to me or your family again. I know these adrenaline rushes are important to you, but…” Frankie closed her eyes tight, a dry sob threatening to tear its way out of her throat. She bowed forward and inhaled shakily. “Hanes, I need you. I love you. And your child needs you to be alive for a long, long time still. Please just…be okay. Be a little safer? Please?”

  In truth, she had been speaking more for herself than for Hanes. She needed to get these words off her aching chest, and she had planned on repeating herself when Hanes was conscious. It was important that they talk about everything—to prevent this kind of thing from happening again.

  So she jumped when she felt Hanes squeeze her hand back. Her eyes snapped open and looked at his face.

  His eyes were still closed, and his breathing was still slow, but he still managed to mumble out, “Sorry, baby.”

  Frankie hiccuped a breathy sound of relief, her thumb running over Hanes’s knuckles. “Thank God.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  He had to stay at the hospital for a few days. Hanes had protested that plan the moment he had enough control over his mouth to do so. One day at the hospital would be fine, and then he could rest up in his trailer.

  But then his mother had lightly smacked his shoulder, making him wince.

  “You scared your pregnant girlfriend half to death,” the old woman said scornfully. She jabbed a finger in Hanes’s face. “Not to mention the rest of us. You are staying as long as the doctor says you need to say. No arguments.”

  “They’re just trying to suck out all your money,” Hanes argued, voice garbled. His entire body was either sore or numb in that tingly kind of way—good drugs, and all that—but he didn’t care. “Take advantage of you.”

  “I don’t care, Hanes Matthew Copper. You are staying put.”

  So he stayed put. As uncomfortable as he was with hospitals and health care in general, he was even more uncomfortable with going against his mother. Plus, she mentioned to Frankie…it had been a smart move. The guilt and embarrassment that encased him was hard to fight past.

  When he was finally released by his doctor, Hanes was on crutches with Frankie and his relatives helping him walk to Thomas’s car before they helped him get settled in the backseat.

  Frankie scooted in next to him, her shoulder pressed against his. Her hands gently rested over his arm, but she seemed too afraid to snuggle against him—to hold him tightly.

  Hanes rested his head against hers and kissed the top of her head. She hummed and relaxed a little bit against him, making him smile.

  Thomas and his other brothers talked outside of the car—making plans on going back home and helping Hanes, or something like that. Hanes couldn’t hear too well from inside of the care, so he wasn’t fully sure what they said. Not that he fully cared. His attention was mainly focused on Frankie.

  “Sorry again,” he said again for the umpteenth time. They had already had their talk—about him not acting reckless every time Frankie got upset. “How you doing?”

  “Much better,” she said. She kissed his shoulder. “You?”

  “Same.”

  “Good.”

  They rested like that for a minute longer—Thomas taking out another paper outside of the car and showing it to the other brothers.

  Talking about business again, Hanes thought bitterly. He rolled his eyes. “They can’t wait to do all that at home?” He was going to say more when he saw Thomas tear up the paper.

  Hanes stiffened. Well, he stiffened as much as his aching body would let him.

  “They’ve been talking about how to talk to you,” Frankie said. “It’s kind of sweet in a funny way.”

  “Talk to me about what?”

  “Fairly splitting your dad’s assets and profit. Apparently, me crying in front of them and then you getting nearly trampled to death helped them get over their feud.”

  Hanes blinked, stunned. “Huh.”

  “Yup.”

  Each brother shook hands with another before Thomas finally got in the driver’s seat of his car. He looked back at Hanes. “How you holding up, dumb-ass?”

  Hanes scowled. “I just came out of the hospital. Have some class.”

  “Not when you were put in the hospital for a stupid reason.”

  Hanes would have argued if Frankie wasn’t right there. She had—in a much kinder way—said the same thing, and he had agreed with her at the time. Caught between his pride and his sincerity, he huffed out a frustrated breath and glanced away.

  “That’s what I thought,” Thomas said, starting the car.

  The drive back home was quiet, nothing but the radio playing country and the outside noises penetrating the silence. It was peaceful—restful, even. Hanes closed his eyes and sagged against Frankie.

  When he opened his eyes again, they were at his parents’ estate.

  Surprised, he raised his head and looked around. All the while, Frankie patted his arm.

  Thomas got out of his own car and jogged around so that he could open Hanes’s door for him. His other brothers popped up from somewhere, too, all of them helping Hanes ease out of the backseat with his crutches.

  “Want me to carry you?” Thomas asked, making kissy sounds right in Hanes ear.

  “Shut up,” Hanes said, unable to contain the laughter that came out of him.

  Thomas was never so…goofy. To see him like that—Hanes laughed a little harder and lightly pushed against Thomas’s shoulder.

  And then everyone was laughing. Hanes wasn’t sure if they were laughing at Thomas or at Hanes—or laughing with them, even—but
it was…nice. It had been a long time since Hanes shared an enjoyable moment with his family.

  They all walked to the front of the manor at the same slow pace that Hanes was moving. Frankie walked right next to him, though she allowed him enough room to use his crutches.

  When he reached the deck—the steps having taken forever for him to conquer—Gina burst out of the front door and nearly hugged him. Horror struck her face though, and she quickly stepped back.