I should know. I live it every day.
“Raven was hit on the driver’s side of a car that wasn’t strong enough or equipped with the modern safety devices that newer cars have. Lap belts alone aren’t—”
“Fuck!” Jonah interlaces his fingers behind his head. “Don’t say it.”
The doctor looks to me and then to Blake with a question in his expression. He swings his gaze back to Jonah. “I’m sorry, don’t say what?”
“The Nova. She . . .” He scrubs his hands over his face. “I told her not to . . .”
“I don’t know the make of the car she was in, only that it was older and has a soft top, which is why—”
“Fuck!”
Blake steps close to Jonah and leans in to say something to him under his breath. Whatever it is works, and Jonah calms down. “Go on.”
“The impact broke a few of her ribs, fractured her arm, and she’s got a nasty concussion. But the reason we took her into surgery was because she suffered placental abruption.”
Jonah’s eyes are to the floor, his hands fisting into his hair. I wait for him to ask a question, seek the details, but it looks as if he’s lost to his fears.
“What does that mean for the baby?” I ask and hope like hell the next thing out of this doctor’s mouth is good news.
“The placenta detached from the uterus. The baby can’t survive in that situation. We took Raven into surgery to check on some internal bleeding and to take the baby.”
Jonah’s head snaps up; his shoulders crank back. “My baby’s here?” His eyes dart to the long hallway that leads into the hospital. “But it’s too early. How? I mean is he or”—he swallows what must be a massive ball of emotion—“she . . .? It’s too early.”
The doctor stands up and holds out his hand to Jonah. “Mr. Slade, congratulations, you have a very tiny, but feisty, baby girl.”
A girl.
Jonah stumbles back as if the good news delivered a solid punch to his chest. “A girl.”
“She’s early—too early—but we’re doing everything we can to mature her lungs and get her weight up. Girls are incredibly strong, and this little one is demonstrating she’s a fighter just like her Dad.”
“I have a daughter.” Jonah sucks in a shaky breath and everyone around him gives him silent congratulations in the form of a thump on the back.
The doctor clears his throat. “Your daughter—”
“Sadie,” Jonah says. “Her name is Sadie.”
He nods. “Sadie. She’s in the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit. I’ll send a nurse down to get you, and you can go see her.”
“And my wife?”
“She’s in recovery. After a couple hours of observation, we should be able to get her into a room. You’re welcome to go back and see her, but everyone else will have to wait until she’s out of the ICU.”
Before the doc says another word, Jonah’s moving down the hallway, followed by the doctor, to see his daughter for the first time.
My head gets light. I wobble on my feet and grab the back of a chair. Fuck. I rub my eyes, brushing off my dizzy spell to exhaustion and stress.
“Two down. One to go,” Layla says quietly to Blake, who only nods.
One to go.
Eve.
Thirty-Three
Eve
I blacked out.
Don’t remember anything after waking up this morning until I woke up in a hospital bed with the worst headache of my life.
The nurse explained that Raven and I had been in a car accident. Hit and run. I was knocked out immediately, or at least that’s what they’re telling me. No matter how hard I try to pull up the memories, my mind is blank, a black hole that gapes between this morning and now.
I wish I had answers, but all I know is that Raven was rushed into surgery, and that’s enough to keep my mind occupied and my heart racing.
If anything happens to the baby, she’ll never recover. And if anything happens to her, I’ll never recover.
My eyes slide shut, and I cry out another plea to God. Please, let her and the baby be okay. They have to be okay.
The sound of heavy footfalls pulls me from my prayer. I jerk to sit up and my vision swims. The splitting cramp in my side and stabbing pain above my right ear send me back to the pillow. Fuck!
I roll my head to the side, surprised I’m even able to do that since it seems to weigh six hundred pounds, to see Jonah pushing past the curtain.
“Jonah.” My voice is shredded with worry and lack of use. “The baby?”
He lifts his eyes to mine, and I gasp at the pure heartache I see in them. Oh no.
“Raven and the baby . . .” I blink to clear my vision and unleash tears that sting my cheeks. “Tell me they’re okay.”
He moves to the chair close to my bed and drops into it, his head in his hands. “They’re okay. She’s in recovery. Broken ribs, arm. Fuck, Eve, what the fuck were you guys thinking?”
A whisper of relief filters through my body but is quickly drowned out by confusion. “I don’t . . .” I lift my hand to the bandage on my head. “I don’t remember anything.”
His bloodshot eyes find mine, and I suck in a breath. A man like Jonah, who’s usually so strong and confident, now resembles a broken and fragile boy. “She promised me she’d stay away from the Nova,” he whispers.
I shake my head as much as I can without wincing. “She’d never take out the Nova. She told me she promised you, and she’d never take it out.”
Wait, but I remember trying to talk her into it weeks ago. Was that weeks or . . . ?
He laughs, but the sound crackles with confusion. “You girls got T-boned in the Nova, Eve.” His eyes meet mine, determined. “So tell me”—he leans in, his glare turning into something feral, dangerous—“what the fuck were you guys thinking!”
I press back into my bed, wanting to escape the agony I hear in his voice and see in his expression. “I . . . I don’t know.” More tears fall and drip off my jaw.
Reaching back into my memory, I try to sort out what must’ve happened. After seeing Cameron at his place with D’lilah, I was upset. Then my Dad sent that guy to my house, looking for money. Jonah picked me up, I spent the night with them, and then . . . nothing.
“I can’t remember. I’d tell you if I could, but . . .” My fingertips press into my temples.
“This is so fucked!” he roars. “My wife is recovering from surgery while my daughter is in a fucking tiny oven keeping her warm with tubes coming—”
“Daughter?” Goose bumps dance down my arms. “The baby’s here? She’s a . . . she?”
A softness touches Jonah’s expression, finally melting some of the anger he arrived here with. “Sadie.”
“Sadie.” I test the name on my lips then blink up at him. “It’s perfect.”
“She’s fucking perfect, but, Eve”—he shakes his head, his face twisting in pain—“she’s so damn small.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish . . .” What can I say? “I’m sorry.”
He nods once. “Raven made me promise that when the baby was born I’d make sure to keep them together. She didn’t want to be separated for even a second. Now my wife is on a different level of the hospital from our daughter. She’s sleeping, but when she wakes up . . .” He shakes his head. “I should be grateful that everyone’s alive, but fuck, I told her to stay the hell out of that car!” He digs his hands into his hair.
Silence hangs heavy in the room for minutes or hours. The concept of time is lost on me, and I wish like hell I had answers.
“Right, well.” He stands up and rubs the back of his neck. “I wanna be there when Raven wakes up. She’s gonna be confused as hell.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“I’ll check in with the nurses, see how long until they’ll let you go home. My guess is we’ll probably be here with Sadie a few days longer than you.”
“Can’t go home. That much I remember.”
He glares at me. “Our home.”
“Jonah, I can’t stay with you guys. Raven, the baby, you don’t need a houseguest.”
“No, but I’ll need your help. And Eve, she’s gonna need you.”
Need me? But I thought after the baby came her family would be complete. She wouldn’t need the makeshift family we formed together. “She’ll need her family. Her mom, you, Sadie—”
“And her sister.”
The warmth of his words goes straight to my chest and it’s like I can’t breathe. “Are you sure—?”
“Eve.”
I’m family. I pick at thread of my blanket. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t say another word and leaves the room along with leaving me with more questions than I have answers to.
What the hell happened?
~*~
Cameron
As I pace the hallway of the hospital, I’m assaulted by the fear from the past. I try to force the anxiety away, but fuck if this place doesn’t make me remember all the shit I’d hoped I’d forget.
The dread that overcomes you at the possibility of losing a child.
Guilt from knowing I could’ve saved her if I’d just paid attention.
Shit, this isn’t about me. It’s about Eve.
Jonah sent everyone home a while ago after he explained that Raven and the baby are both doing well. Raven’s mom, Milena, showed up sobbing and, according to Jonah, refuses to leave the baby alone for a second. They’re in good hands.
But Eve . . . fuck.
I stop pacing and stare at the door to her hospital room. Maybe I should just go home. I shove my hand into my hair and pull. Don’t be such a pussy!
Fact is for the first time since the day Rosie drowned, I’m fucking terrified. The shit stirring behind my ribs when it comes to this girl is something I’d swore off ever feeling again.
I’ve fallen for Eve.
Hard.
I can’t get my thoughts straight, and compounded with the memories of losing one of the only other people I’ve ever loved in my life doesn’t make this shit any easier.
“Mr. Kyle?” The nurse from the circular desk who gave me directions to Eve’s room approaches me. “You’re right; that’s the one.” She nods toward the door I’ve been pacing in front of for the last ten minutes. “Room 452.”
“Great, thank you.” Now go away so I can figure my shit out, please.
She opens Eve’s door wide and peeks inside before looking back at me. “You’re lucky she’s awake.”
How wonderfully fucking helpful is she? I groan. So much for sorting my shit. I take a deep breath and move into the room.
My gut clenches. Eve’s tucked beneath the sterile-looking hospital blanket, her head wrapped in white gauze. She’s turned away from the door, gazing out the window. She looks so tiny, fragile.
The nurse motions for me to go in before she leaves, but my feet are frozen in place as I take in the beauty and tragic sadness of the room. No family, not even a good friend. Just me. And her dick of a father who probably would’ve spent visiting hours tossing the room for cash.
Her eyes dart to mine and widen. I suck in a breath at the bruises and cuts that pepper her gorgeous face. Blackened eyes, stitches along her cheekbone, and a split lip. My fists clench.
Her jaw goes slack. Shocked to see me?
“Hey.” I step deeper into the room, and immediately the walls close in and anxiety pricks my nerves.
“You’re here?”
I nod and move a few more steps toward her bed. “I am.”
“W-why?” Her gaze swings over my shoulder and to my side. “You alone?”
She sees I’m alone, so I ignore her question. “Your head.”
Her fingers gently press to her gauze-covered temple and run down to smooth her tangled hair. “Oh, yeah, I guess my head went through . . . I don’t know, maybe the side window? Or . . .” Her fingers trail from her cheek to the length of her jaw, stopping to read each cut and tender spot. “I don’t know.”
She doesn’t remember, something I know more about than I’d ever let on.
I take another step and sit at the foot of her bed. The mattress dips with my weight, and her hand flies to her ribs and she cringes.
I jump up. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I just braced a little too hard when I saw you sit.” She breathes deeply and motions to the end of the bed. “Please, it’s fine. Sit.”
I drop slowly to make sure there’s no sudden movement and watch her expression.
She takes a slow but deep breath. “I’m good.”
“You don’t remember the accident.”
Her jaw gets tight. “No. I remember waking up at Jonah and Raven’s this morning and then waking up here.”
Jonah had mentioned she stayed the night with them after she got run out by some piece-of-shit lowlife looking for her dad’s payoff. “Heard you had a visitor last night.” What I didn’t hear was why the fuck she called Slade instead of me.
Her ocean-blue eyes fix on mine. “How did you know that?”
“Been sitting in a waiting room with Slade for the better part of the day.”
She blinks and her eyes narrow. “What are you doing here, Cameron?”
What am I . . . ? What does she think I’m doing here? “You were in a car accident. You think I’d let you go through this shit alone?”
The answer is probably “yes” considering the man in her life who did a shitty job teaching a young Eve how she deserved to be treated. I should’ve chased after his ass when he ran even if only for one good crack to his jaw.
Her nose scrunches up in what looks like disgust before her head falls softly back to the pillow. Her gaze slides to the window. “Ah, makes sense, I guess.”
Makes sense she guesses? I look around the room thinking she’s got to be talking to someone else. “I missin’ something?”
Her chest jumps with what’s supposed to be a burst of non-funny laughter, but it must hurt because she grinds her teeth with a grunt.
“You need me to get a nurse?”
She pinches her eyes closed. “Go home, Cameron.”
No fucking way I’m leaving. Why the hell would she want me to?
My blood races and I try to keep my jaw locked so I don’t say some shit I can’t take back. I bite my lip and study the loose stitching of the blanket on her bed.
“Not trying to be a bitch, really, it’s just . . . I know what’s going on here, and I don’t want any part of it.”
My eyes snap to hers. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m stupid, I get it, but unfortunately for you, I’m not that stupid.”
“I don’t have the slightest fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
“Really.” The sarcasm is so thick in that one word it’s nearly impossible to keep me from responding on impulse.
I keep my lips clamped together.
“Only lost my memory for a day, Cameron, sorry to say.” She rolls her head against the pillow. “If I could forget what I saw, I swear to God I would.”
“You call the cops on him?”
Confusion carves into her injured face. “What?”
“The guy who showed up at your place. If he’s a loan shark, he might have a record. If you could identify him—”
“Stop.” She places her fingertips to her eyelids, like she wants to press in, but knows it’ll hurt like a bitch.
God, this is frustrating as hell. It’s not enough that being in this room is making me want to jump out of my skin. She’s laid up in a hospital bed, head wrapped up, bruised and angry red cuts marring her perfect fucking face, and now she’s talking as if she’s gone damn crazy. I run both hands through my hair, pulling with the hope that the scalp sting will calm my urge to roar “What the fuck are you talking about!” I blow out a long breath.
“You fucking left me for her.” Her voice hitches with emotion.
My eyes snap to hers. This is about last night? “No, I chased after ’Li to get her drunk ass home, w
hich, by the way, was a huge fucking mistake.” Wait . . . my eyes get tight. “You told me to go after her. Practically shoved me after her.”
“I went to your house to talk to you after you left.”
“Okay, so why didn’t we talk?”
She pushes herself up about an inch, but the effort it took to do so has her panting. “I saw you. With her.”
I don’t know if I’m more insulted or pissed off about what she’s implying. “There’s no fucking way I’d touch D’lilah like that again. Whatever you think you saw is a mistake.”
What kind of clusterfuck is whipping up in that pretty and broken head of hers?
“You didn’t have a shirt on, she had her hand on your chest, and then she followed you back to your room. Do you . . .?” She sucks in a breath and swallows hard. “The way you were looking at her, Cameron, I see it in Jonah’s eyes when he looks at Raven and hers when she looks at him.”
I almost want to smile and how ridiculous her ideas of what she saw are. “You didn’t see what—”
“Will you stop treating me like I’m stupid! Fuck, I know what I saw.”
“Think you know what you saw.”
“At least have the decency to tell me the truth.”
“Eve—”
“I’m in a damn hospital bed, and I can’t even remember how I fucking got here. If you care about me at all, you’ll give me honesty. You’re in love with her.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re—”
“Just say it! Stop fucking lying.”
“I’m not lying. Shut up and let me explain—”
“I saw it!” She points to her face. “With my own fucking eyes. You’re in love—”
“Yes! Fine! Fucking feel better?” I push up and ignore the gasp that shoots from her lips when I shove a chair hard enough for it to hit the wall.
“I knew it.” Her voice is hard.
I whirl around, glaring. “You don’t know shit because you won’t shut the fuck up long enough to listen. It’s not her, it’s—”
Fighting the Fall Page 26
