“What the fuck did you just say?” he growls.
I don’t respond because I assume it’s a rhetorical question. He heard me, or he wouldn’t have reacted that way. I look up to see his face is beet-red, his hands are clenched at his sides and the vein in his neck is pulsing.
“You have a daughter, Kyler. Her name is Landry,” I say calmly. The cat is out of the bag. No sense in trying to beat around the bush about it. I brought it to the forefront and it’s time to deal with it.
He looks at me for a second, paces back and forth for several minutes and then bolts for the door, mumbling that he needs to go. He slams it on his way out, knocking a picture from the wall. It shatters as it hits the ground.
I stand stock-still in my kitchen, trying to process all that just happened. I knew he’d be upset but I didn’t think he’d run out. Eventually, I walk over to the broken picture and pick it up. It’s the picture of Lulu and me from our trip to Seaside a couple years ago. We’re lying on the beach, drinks in hand, smiling at the stranger who volunteered to take the picture for us.
I sit down on the floor and hold the picture to my chest. I miss her so much. I miss talking to her, joking with her, and spending time with her and Landry. My heart feels like it is being ripped out of my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever been so heartbroken in my life. My best friend is gone. I feel my chest tighten, the breath leaves my lungs and I can’t take in enough air. My shoulder starts to throb and my jaw tightens. Holy shit, I’m having a heart attack. I reach for my phone, dialing 9-1-1, but never even hear the dispatcher say anything before everything goes black.
I wake up in the hospital. I have an IV in one arm and my head is killing me. I look around my room but it is empty. I reach over and push the button to call the nurse. A minute later, the door opens and an older lady in nurse scrubs walks in.
“There you are. You had us worried. How are you feeling?” she asks with a smile on her face.
“What happened?” I croak out. It’s then I realize my throat is seriously dry and I feel like I haven’t drank anything in days. “Water, please,” I manage to get out. She hands me a cup of ice chips and I fill my mouth with them, sucking the liquid and soothing my parched throat.
“You had what we are pretty sure was a massive panic attack, passed out and hit your head pretty hard. You have a concussion,” I hear her say as she starts to walk out of the room. “I’ll be right back; gonna get your nausea medicine.”
I look around the room and notice a clock at the opposite end. It’s 2:27 a.m. That means I have been out for half a day. It was early afternoon the last time I took notice. I reach over, grab the phone and start to dial before it dawns on me that I’d be waking up Pops and Landry if I call. I set the phone down on the receiver and decide to wait till morning. The last thing Pops needs right now is me waking him up in the middle of the night to tell him I’m in the hospital again. He has enough on his plate.
The nurse returns with a syringe minutes later, and I watch as she inserts it into my IV. This is the second concussion I’ve had in six weeks, so I know that’s the cause of the nausea and massive headache. The medicine she administers is for the nausea but it takes only minutes to knock me out.
When I wake up, it’s light outside. I look at the clock and realize it’s almost lunchtime. Damn, that shot must’ve had some strong shit in it. I reach for the phone and dial Pops’ number. He answers on the first ring.
“Hello,” I hear on the other end.
“Pops. It’s me,” I reply.
“Carson! Oh, thank God. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” I hear the panic in his voice and immediately feel bad.
“I’m sorry, Pops. It’s stupid, really. I told Kyler yesterday and he stormed out. I had a panic attack, which I thought was a heart attack and ended up in the hospital. I’m sorry I freaked you out. I’m fine,” I spew out quickly.
“Oh, Car, you should’ve told me you were telling him. You needed support and didn’t have it. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he quickly says and I can hear the pain in his voice.
“Pops, stop it. I knew it was time and just went with it. He didn’t take it well and stormed out. I don’t know if he came back because I don’t think it was that long later that I called 9-1-1. We need to just give him time,” I sadly reply. “We need to give him some time to absorb what I laid on him yesterday. It’s not every day a woman you barely know but are starting to become friends with informs you that you have a 5-year-old deaf daughter and that her best friend is the mother and passed away in a car accident,” I blurt out. I know this is hard for him, too, but I’m exhausted and cranky.
“Look, Pops, I’m fine. I’ll probably be here till late this afternoon when the doc comes in and tells me what I can and can’t do and then releases me. I’ll call you when I get home. I love you,” I say quickly and hang up.
I push the phone away and roll onto my side. My head is killing me and I feel the nausea setting in again. I try my best to go to sleep, but realize quickly the pain is too much and I push the nurse’s button. She responds quickly, coming in with what I only assume is more pain meds and nausea medicine. She smiles at me sweetly as she administers the meds, but I don’t smile back because I’m so exhausted I don’t even have the energy for that much.
When I wake again, it’s starting to get dark and I push the nurse button. She responds a few minutes later and asks how I’m feeling.
“I’m better. Has the doctor been by? I’d like to go home.”
“He did come by. He said that once you were awake and ready, we could release you. Do you feel up to going home?” she asks happily.
“Yes. I want to go home,” I respond firmly. I’ve had enough of hospitals to last my whole life.
“Okay then. I’ll get all your paperwork done and your meds ready and we’ll get you out of here. Do you have anyone to pick you up, or should we call you a cab?” she asks cautiously.
“No, I’ll take a cab home. It would be great if you could call them to pick me up,” I say with all the courage I can muster. It dawns on me that the one person I have leaned on for the past 5 years is gone. Pops has Landry to worry about till I get my head on straight, and Kyler is no longer an option. I could call Will, but I figure I’ll just fill him in later.
“Sure thing, sweetie. I’ll call them now and get your paperwork done,” she replies as she walks out of my room.
An hour later, I’m in a cab and on my way home. I tell the cab driver I’ll need to go up to my apartment to get my purse to pay the cab fare. Since he picked me up from the hospital he doesn’t complain.
When we arrive at the apartment complex, he pulls up to the front of my building and stops for me to get out closest to the door. He gets out of the cab and walks with me to the front door.
“I’ll just wait here so you don’t have to come all the way back out,” he says with a smile. I nod, making my way through the front door. I get to my floor, open my door and am shocked to find Kyler lying on my couch, asleep. I stand quiet for a moment, taking in the sight. I look around, searching for my purse, and find it on the dining room table where I usually put it. I dig through it, find enough cash to pay the cab driver and make my way back down to him. He thanks me and leaves quickly.
When I get back up to my apartment, Kyler is no longer on the couch. I must have woken him up. I sit down on the couch and place the bag the hospital gave me on the floor beside me. I start to feel groggy, and feel myself drifting off, when I hear the bathroom door open. I look up and watch him walk into the living room. He stops when he sees me and I can’t read the expression on his face.
“Carson,” he whispers. He doesn’t move at first, just stands there staring at me. After what feels like forever, he speaks.
“Where have you been? When I got back to your apartment, you were gone but the door was unlocked, and your purse and phone were on the table. I almost called Lopez! That psycho is still out there and when
I couldn’t get a hold of you I sorta started freaking out.”
I don’t know how to respond at first. Do I tell him I freaked out and thought I was having a heart attack, or do I make up some bullshit story so he doesn’t realize I’m losing my mind?
“I was in the hospital,” I reply matter-of-factly and start toward my bedroom. I feel the heat from his arm before it actually touches my skin and I pause.
“Why were you in the hospital?” he asks.
“Well, let’s see. In the past six weeks, I’ve opened myself up to a man I just met, was run off the road by a psycho who hates me, which killed my best friend, left her daughter orphaned, and left me broken. Then I find out the psycho is still on the loose and looking for me, find out the father of the little girl I now have custody of is the guy I have feelings for,” I pause to catch my breath, “then I get to tell said guy that he has a daughter he knew nothing about. He storms out and I have a full-on meltdown that makes me think I’m dying of a heart attack at 27.”
I pause again, look at his stunned face, and continue, “Then I realize while spending 24 hours in the hospital that my new normal is very, very different than it was just six short weeks ago.” I take in a breath and turn toward my room. I’m exhausted. I pick up my medicine and head to bed. I’m done.
“Carson. Wait,” I hear behind me. I pause but don’t turn around.
“Look, Kyler, I know we need to talk, but tonight is not the night. I can’t do this right now. I am physically and emotionally not capable.” I continue toward my room.
After taking my medicine and climbing into my bed, I finally start to drift off when I feel the bed dip. I know it’s Kyler, but the medicine the doc gave me literally makes me numb and so very, very tired. The last thing I’m conscious of is his arms pulling me into him when he lies down beside me.
And then I sleep.
I’m burning up. I roll onto my side and feel a furnace pressed against me. I open my eyes slowly and realize Kyler is in my bed. My head is pounding and I groan as I try to sit up. Kyler stirs and opens his eyes, looking directly at me. I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say. I know he is confused and hurt, but I had no say in that. I told him the day I knew the truth.
I stand on wobbly legs and head toward my bathroom where I know my medicine is. My head hurts so bad I feel like I’m going to puke. I get halfway to the bathroom when I realize I have no pants on. I’m in a t-shirt and panties because I was alone when I got into bed. I tug the hem of my t-shirt down as far as I can and continue into the bathroom.
“You know, I’ve seen your ass before.” I hear him chuckle from behind me. This comment strikes me as odd seeing how he stormed out a few days ago and we haven’t really discussed anything since. I know he needed time to think about everything I’d unloaded on him, but I warned him that I hadn’t known until that day. His anger was misplaced by being pissed at me, but I knew in my heart that he was just confused and hurt.
Continuing into the bathroom, I close the door behind me, brush my teeth and throw my hair into a lopsided bun since I still can’t lift my arm all the way up. I take my medicine and head to the kitchen, stopping only to grab a pair of shorts out of the dresser. I don’t acknowledge Kyler as I leave my room. I’ll just wait until he is ready to talk, and hopefully that will be after my head stops trying to kill me.
Because my stomach hates me right now, I decide to try some toast to see if that will help settle it. Between the concussion and the lack of food in my belly for the past couple of days, I don’t know how well solid food is going to go. I’m just sitting down to eat when Kyler comes out of my room, dressed for his day.
He doesn’t waste any time. “Look, Carson, we need to discuss some things, but I do need to go into the office this morning for a bit. Can we have lunch this afternoon?” he asks, never meeting my eyes.
“Sure. Lunch would be fine. Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”
“I’ll have my assistant order us lunch if you can just come to my office. I’ll text you the address,” he replies as he walks out the front door.
Well, that went better than I thought it would. He seems to be handling things better this morning. The toast seems to settle my stomach a little and after watching the morning news, my head is feeling much better, too. I hop in the shower and decide it’s as good a time as any to get going on my day.
Around 11 a.m., I get a text from Kyler asking what I would like for lunch and giving me the address to his office. I just tell him a sandwich is fine and I’ll be there around noon. He doesn’t respond.
I call Pops before I leave the apartment and let him know my plans to talk to Kyler. Then I’ll head over to his place so we can talk to Landry about what is going to happen next.
I get to Kyler’s office a few minutes early and head in anyway. The receptionist informs me he is in a meeting and will meet with me in the conference room for lunch. I follow her down a hallway and into a large room with a beautiful oak table and plush office chairs. Our lunch is already on the table, and it looks like enough food to feed ten people. I take a seat facing the windows so I can see outside. It’s a beautiful room. Very professional. I hear the door open and assume it’s Kyler so I don’t turn around. I’m nervous about this conversation. When I look up to greet him, it is an older gentleman in a very expensive suit, with a large folder in his hand.
“Ms. Breaux, I presume?” He asks as he reaches out and shakes my hand.
“Um, yeah. I’m sorry; I thought I was meeting Kyler for lunch. Where is he?” I ask, confused about how this guy knows who I am and where Kyler is. I look at the clock on the wall and see that it’s a few minutes past noon.
“Mr. Richards will join us momentarily. He got stuck in a meeting.” He smiles politely and sits down in one of the chairs opposite of me.
We sit in silence for several minutes before I finally can’t take it anymore. “You don’t have to sit with me until Kyler is done. I can entertain myself,” I offer with a smile, trying to lighten the awkwardness.
“Oh, I’m not just here to keep you company. I’ll be joining your meeting with Mr. Richards,” he deadpans.
“Okay. I actually didn’t realize this was a meeting. Kyler asked me to join him for lunch. May I ask exactly what this ‘meeting’ is for and who you are?” I reply, probably more snarky than necessary.
“I’m Mr. Richards’ lawyer, Thomas Lackey. You can call me Tom,” he answers with much less snark and a smile that meets his eyes.
“Kyler’s lawyer?” I whisper. It immediately dawns on me what is happening. Kyler asked me to come to his office to meet with his lawyer about Landry. He didn’t want to talk to me like “friends” talk to each other. I should’ve known something was up when he asked me to meet him at his office. He called out the big dogs and already has his lawyer in on this. Wow!
At first, I’m speechless. I mean, I knew he would be upset and need time to make some decisions, but he’s already called in his lawyer. And as quickly as the shock hit, the anger rolls in. That motherfucker! If he was being honest, he could have just told me he wanted his lawyer to meet with us so we were all on the same page. He basically lied through omission. He’s gonna try to take her away from me. Instead of us sitting down to discuss what is best for Landry, he went and got his fucking lawyer involved. I spilled my guts to him last night about my panic attack and subsequent hospital stay because of all of this. He’ll probably be able to use that against me. Mentally unstable. He slept in my bed with me last night, held me while I slept. All that time, he knew he was going to trick me into coming to his office and blindside me with his lawyer.
I feel the pain start in my chest again, and my face must turn bright red because I see what looks like concern on Tom’s face. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’m not gonna freak out. I need to keep my shit together until I can get out of here. My head starts to pound and I feel my stomach roll. I slowly pour myself a glass of water, hoping that Mr. Lackey doesn’t notice h
ow bad my hands are shaking. I reach into my purse, pull out my pain medicine, shake one into my hand and swallow it down quickly.
“Are you okay, Ms. Breaux?” he inquires, looking truly concerned.
“I’m fine thank you.” I pause. “Okay then. Mr. Lackey, do you have a card?” I ask as calmly as possible. I’m really trying hard not to lose my shit.
“Uh, yeah, right here. Why?” He hands me his card. I hear the door behind me open, and I don’t even so much as acknowledge I heard it. I have to get out of here.
“I’ll just have my lawyer contact you after I’ve met with him to bring him up to speed on what’s going on.” I stand and push my chair back but feel it stop when it hits something behind me.
“Carson, where are you going?” Kyler says from behind me. I take a deep breath, turn and look into his eyes.
“Well, since we are going to involve lawyers, I just figured mine should be present, as well. I’ll have him contact Mr. Lackey and set up a meeting.” I scoot to the side of him and head toward the door before they see the tears that are threatening to escape before I can.
“Carson, wait,” I hear him say. I stop but don’t turn around.
“I’m sorry to ruin your lunch plans, Mr. Richards. I’ll see you at the meeting our lawyers set up,” I choke out, trying so hard to keep my voice from shaking.
“Don’t do this, Carson,” Kyler pleads.
I reach up and wipe away the tears that have fallen before turning just enough to look at his face. “I showed up for lunch under false pretense, Mr. Richards. If I had known this was a legal meeting, I’d have come better prepared,” I bite out.
I walk out of the room with my head held high, closing the door quietly behind me. I get to the elevator, pressing the button to go down. I have to get out of here. I hear footsteps coming toward me and instead of waiting to see who it is, or the damn elevator for that matter, I bolt to the stairwell, throwing open the door and running down the stairs. I don’t hear anyone following me after I get down a few flights, so I stop running and sit down to catch my breath. My head is pounding still and I know that once I’m out of this building and away from the situation, I’m going to break.
Raising Landry Page 9
