by Hayden Wolfe
She was hurting. A lot. The pain didn’t concern her at the moment. Blaine scribbled one word on the pad, ripped the paper out, and handed it to Avery.
“Jack?” Avery frowned. “Who’s Jack?”
Fisting the pen, she inwardly cursed. For two weeks, she’d moped alone. She should’ve mentioned something to her brother about Jack. Then again, Avery would’ve lectured her on the foolishness of longing for someone. She scribbled a few sentences, then turned the notepad for Avery to read.
“Jack’s the guy Alex mentioned, isn’t he?” Avery’s features hardened.
She glared at her brother. The angry look was enough to express herself. Part of the rage she felt could be attributed to her pain and this situation. The rest stemmed from annoyance. Her brother had no business commenting on her love life. She’d kept her nose out of his even when she’d questioned his choice in lovers.
Avery closed his eyes on a slow breath, then met her gaze. The judging look had been masked. She doubted his feelings had, though. “Iona called and left a message, asking for me to call her. I haven’t gotten the chance. We’re still in the emergency room.”
She knew that. The hospital staff had evaluated her, taken blood work, stuck an IV into her, then slapped a temporary bandage on her, sending another mind-numbing bolt of pain through her that left her unconscious. Now she was awake and aware. The important things needed to be taken care of.
Blaine wrote three words: Call her now.
Iona would relay everything Avery told her to Jack. Of that, Blaine didn’t have any doubt.
“In a minute. I need to talk to you about the attack.” Anger slid into his eyes. “And I need to confess to you how I messed up. Again. The staff failed to lock up the metal detector before the show. I didn’t know about that until afterward. It was tampered with. That’s how someone got a throwing star past the security checks.”
Her frown tugged at her damaged cheek, sending more agony through her. She closed her eyes against the pain. After a moment, she opened them and wrote: My attacker wasn’t caught, then?
“No.” The harsh bite to the word landed hard between them.
Despite her pain, she ached for her brother. She scribbled on the paper: Don’t blame yourself.
“You were hurt on my watch, Blaine.” Avery leaned closer, lowering his voice. “While Alex and I stood several feet away. The nearby fans were checked. Nobody had any more throwing stars on them. The video was no use. It was too dark. I failed you.”
I’m alive. It’s okay. She added the words to the bottom of the page.
“But if that star hit a little lower, you might not be.”
Although she sympathized with her brother, she couldn’t deal with this now. She was alive. The cut on her face couldn’t even be that big of a deal. They hadn’t even stitched it yet. Letting Jack know these details so he wouldn’t be going out of his mind was more important than soothing her brother’s ego.
Blaine gave the paper to him telling Avery to call Iona, then waited, letting the demand show in her eyes.
Sighing, Avery stood. “Fine. I’ll tell the nurses you’re conscious. Maybe they’ll finally give you something for the pain. Or stitch you up. Freaking something.”
She wouldn’t mind if they did something too. Putting a temporary dressing on her wound didn’t seem like a proper fix. Of course, what did she know? Maybe they were waiting for her blood work to come back. She did catch the doctor asking for a blood screen after she gave a urine sample. Hearing that had irritated her.
Did they think she was on drugs?
Just because she was a musician didn’t mean she was an addict. She’d never touched drugs or alcohol. The sip of champagne at Kyle and Ronnie’s wedding had been plenty. Losing her inhibitions could mean a social disaster.
A few minutes after Avery left, the doctor who’d prodded her face, sending fiery jolts through her body, walked in. Carrying a clipboard, he nodded in her direction. “Good to see you awake, Ms. Zima. No need to greet me. I want you to rest.”
The doctor who couldn’t have been much older than Avery checked her vitals, then spent a considerable amount of time studying his clipboard in silence. Finally, he glanced at her. “Your blood work puts your pregnancy early in the first trimester, approximately eight to ten weeks. Does that sound about right?”
Pregnant.
Blaine stared wide-eyed at the doctor. His words registered. No, the timing didn’t sound right, but what did it matter? She knew exactly when it happened. And who it happened with.
She was pregnant. With Jack’s baby.
The pen she still held slipped from her hand. The beeping of the monitors behind her grew louder. She opened her mouth slightly. Wicked, shooting pain stopped her from speaking. A garbled grunt escaped her as her vision wavered. She fought the pain. No more passing out. The news she’d gotten demanded her full attention.
The doctor laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t try to speak, Ms. Zima. I’m sorry if my announcement came as a shock. I assumed since you were so far along, you missed a cycle and knew already.”
She gripped the fallen pen and wrote: Didn’t know.
He nodded. “Then we need to delve into the practicalities of your condition. Pregnancy poses a dilemma for your treatment. Luckily, I don’t believe the injury you sustained severed any facial nerves. Maybe nicked some. We won’t know until we look closer. For certain, you have muscular and some tendon damage, however, and how we proceed will affect your recovery.”
He gave her a pointed look. “You need to understand that as a singer, this injury could damage your career if we don’t act properly and quickly. All the muscles in the face are involved in singing. So expect at the minimum some healing time and physical therapy, even with the procedure.”
The doctor’s expression turned grim. “The problem lies in the fact that you’re so early into your pregnancy. Any nerve blocks or local anesthesia we would use while repairing the damage you’ve sustained poses a risk to the developing embryo you’re carrying. The same applies to most pain medications. The best we can do is stitch what you can tolerate, pain-wise, and allow your body to heal on its own.”
He raised a hand. “Now be aware. While this is best for the developing embryo, this route might lead to significant scarring, which will affect how well you can open your mouth, smile, laugh. It might even affect your resting face, leaving you with a drooping expression.”
The doctor flipped a couple sheets of paper and pulled out a pen. “What I’m recommending is local anesthesia and something to calm you while our specialist works on the injury site. This route will almost definitely ensure a complete recovery. I have a specialist on his way to the hospital as we speak. I just need you to sign this form, agreeing to the procedure.”
Blaine frowned as confusion surfaced. She scribbled on the notepad: But the baby will be hurt. Right?
“Maybe. Not enough research has been done, but the general recommendation is to avoid the things I’ve mentioned if you plan on allowing the pregnancy to proceed. Now, be aware, the developing embryo can be aborted. You’re still well within the legal timeframe for such a procedure.” He flipped another page. “I would just need your signature here also.”
Abort Jack’s baby. Their baby.
She wrote one word in large letters.
No.
“Ms. Zima, I highly recommend—”
Blaine tapped the notepad and glared at the doctor.
The doctor looked from the notepad to her face. “Ms. Zima, I wouldn’t exactly call myself a fan of yours, but my younger sister loves your music. It’d be a shame if you couldn’t sing again for her. She missed today’s concert and was very upset about it.”
With a yank, she ripped the paper out, tossed it at the doctor, then wrote “no” again and threw the ripped paper at him before writing the word a third time. He rested his hand over hers, stopping her from tearing this page out too. “Are you sure you don’t want to discuss this with your brother o
r publicist or someone else close to you? Or maybe take a few minutes to think about it? The specialist is still on his way. You have time.”
Nobody had a say in this decision, not even Jack. Nor did she need to consider anything else.
She jerked her hand out from the doctor’s grip, wrote “no,” again and handed the torn paper to the doctor.
“If that’s your final decision, we’ll see if the specialist can do anything for you without a local.” The doctor checked off something on his clipboard, then left the room.
Blaine laid a hand over her belly. A range of emotions swept through her, swinging her from elation to fear. She was pregnant. With Jack’s baby.
Her baby.
And if the doctor was right about her recovery, this child she carried might be the only thing she could claim as hers. The career she’d worked so hard to establish might be over. So might her relationship with Jack. Falling in love was one thing. Finding out the woman who seduced you was now pregnant and living in a different country was another. That was the reality Jack faced.
Unless…unless she convinced him to come to Russia, become a Russian citizen, and marry her. Then a few strokes of a pen could make everything she owned Jack’s also.
Chapter 19
The sight of Iona running across his front yard with a cell phone pressed to her ear sped Jack’s pulse. He tore through his house and flung open the front door in time to allow Iona inside.
“It’s Avery.” Iona shoved the phone at him.
Jack pressed the phone to his ear. “How’s Blaine?”
“Stubborn but fine. Doctors don’t think she’ll have any major problems. They’re tending her wound now. She’ll be released before the day is over.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Jack braced his hand against the doorframe and closed his eyes. The past couple hours had been the worst of his life. Now he knew what his mama felt that time he’d been hospitalized overseas with a gunshot wound. Not being able to be there when someone you loved was hurting sucked. “Tell me everything.”
Avery made an annoyed sound that tensed Jack’s body. “Random lovers don’t deserve intimate details, Mr. Sander. The information I just gave is more than I would’ve done, but Blaine insisted. You won’t be getting any more.”
“Then expect me on Blaine’s doorstep as soon as I can get a passport.” He’d drive to the nearest issuing center and beg for expedited service if he had to. “Then I’ll get the details directly from Blaine.”
“Sorry. Blaine isn’t allowed to talk to anyone, including her random lovers. Doctor’s orders. She needs to rest.”
“I am not a random lover.” Jack gritted out the words. “I’m her boyfriend, and I’m demanding to know my girlfriend’s condition. If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to get my information another way.”
A long moment passed before Avery spoke. “Boyfriend, huh? Let me talk to Blaine, and I’ll call back, if you deserve any more details.”
Avery cut the call, and Jack cursed. He resisted the urge to slam Iona’s cell phone onto the ground and focused on Blaine’s best friend. “What did he tell you?”
“The same, except he complained how frustrated he was with the hospital. They examined her, took blood work, then let her suffer in pain for hours before the doctor ever came in to see her.” Iona twisted her fingers together. “They gave him the excuse about having to wait for test results to come back and for a specialist to be called in, but it didn’t much help when Blaine was slipping in and out of consciousness.”
“She was in that much pain?” And he had no way of getting to her. He couldn’t even hold her hand.
“I don’t know. She was dehydrated too.” Iona smoothed her hands over her thighs. “But the good news is she’s being taken care of now. Getting discharged today is another good sign.”
Yes, it was a good sign, but it didn’t make up for the suffering she’d endured. “Did Avery say anything about the attacker?”
Iona shook her head. “I didn’t get a chance to ask. I figured you’d want to talk to Avery immediately.”
“Thank you.” Jack squeezed Iona’s shoulder. “Any word from Wyn?” Because Jack wasn’t the only one dealing with unexpected shit today. Wyn was too. With Kyle on a flight back from his extra-long honeymoon, Wyn was the one dealing with Neil’s issues.
Iona sighed. “Neil was in a helicopter crash. Wyn said he’s fine, just knocked up a bit with a few broken bones, and this was standard procedure. Wyn’s staying down there overnight since Neil doesn’t have any close relatives left. He’ll know more in the morning after the specialist sees him.”
Neil did have a father, but he hadn’t seen the drunk lowlife in years. Jack’s dad had stepped in and acted as the fatherly figure Neil needed back in high school. Jack wouldn’t be surprised if his dad made the trip down to see Neil too.
Jack nodded. “That’s good—”
The phone he held buzzed with an incoming call. After one look at the foreign number, Jack answered. “Avery.”
“Blaine wants you to know she’s okay. The staff is finally taking care of her and giving her the help she needs. The pain isn’t bad at all, and the doctor is optimistic she’ll heal without too many issues.”
The tone Avery used set Jack on edge. “Who don’t you believe? Blaine or the doctors?”
Avery laughed. “That’s pretty good insight for an American.”
Jack clenched his jaw. Despite the urge to tell Avery where to stick his attitude, Jack resisted. This man was his only point of contact to Blaine. “Well, Avery? Who’s lying?”
“Both. Neither. It’s hard to tell. I’m only sharing the details as they were shared with me.”
“But…” Jack let the pregnant pause grow, hoping Avery would fill in the silence.
“But I was here when Blaine was slipping in and out of unconsciousness. They said she was dehydrated and some people react strongly to pain, but I still remember Blaine as the kid who crashed her bike and walked home with a nasty gash on her hip and didn’t tell anyone she’d gotten hurt until days later.”
“So you think Blaine is downplaying this?”
Avery’s heavy sigh filled the line. “No. It’s probably me. I failed my sister. Every second of pain, no matter how little or intense, is my fault.”
That was an explanation Jack could understand. “What happened?”
“Iona said you saw the clip. Blaine was hit with a throwing star during the one part in the show I argued with her about, telling her I didn’t like the lights out with her so close to her fans. She insisted with me standing feet from her it’d be fine.” Avery delivered a string of curse words. “It wasn’t fine.”
“The attacker?” Jack didn’t want excuses.
“A few dozen fans were taken into custody for questioning, but all were released. There were no fingerprints on the star and no evidence on their persons.”
“Somebody close to Blaine had to have thrown that star. No witnesses?”
“No. Everybody’s eyes were on Blaine. Even Alex didn’t see anything, and he was on that side, a few rows back.”
“Shit.” Tension wound into Jack’s muscles. “Whoever hurt Blaine is still on the loose.”
“Yes, but Alex is with the police now. They’re following up on leads. We’ll catch this guy. I promise you that.”
“And if you don’t?” Because it was a distinct possibility. If her attacker came in with one star, threw it, then slipped into the crowd while chaos reigned, he could escape capture altogether.
“Blaine will be guarded twenty-four seven. I won’t risk my sister’s life again. She’s canceling all appearances until the perpetrator is caught too.”
“Who’ll be watching her?”
“Me, Alex, my staff, and the police. Blaine is safe. Trust me.”
After Avery had failed both Iona and Blaine? “The moment I get my passport, I’m booking a flight.”
“Blaine doesn’t want you to come.”
Jack flicked his gaze
to Iona. Her carefully neutral expression didn’t help him. “She told you this?”
“Wrote it down, yes. I can even send the picture of it if you don’t believe me.”
“No, I don’t believe you. Put Blaine on the line.”
“She’s not supposed to talk until she gets her stitches out. Look, she doesn’t want you to see her like this. Give her this time, or I won’t have to worry about my sister being in love with an American. Frankly, I’d rather the latter, but she appears to be infatuated with you, and I don’t want to see her heart broken. You decide, Jack Sander.”
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. There was only one choice to make. “Have Blaine text me or email me or something as soon as she can.”
“Will do.”
The call ended. Jack faced Iona. “Well?”
She sighed. “Blaine doesn’t like people worried about her. I can tell you that. She has this view she can take on the world alone.”
The phone dinged with a new message. Iona took the cell and opened the attachment. A scribbled note written in Russian showed on the screen. She read it.
Tell Jack I need a few weeks alone to heal and deal with some stuff. And that I love him. Make sure you tell him I love him and will be in touch soon.
Jack rammed his balled fist into the doorframe. “Send me that, Iona.”
He’d have it translated just to make sure. It wasn’t as if he didn’t believe Iona, but he couldn’t understand why Blaine wouldn’t want him to comfort her. That was what people in relationships did.
“Done.” Iona tapped a few times on her phone. His dinged with a new message. She rested her palm on his back. “Give her space, Jack. Blaine has never used the word love in reference to a man before. If she says she loves you, she means it.”
He hung his head. Every instinct demanded he get on a plane the moment he could. The desire to keep Blaine in his life permanently stopped him. “If anything changes, I’m going. I don’t care what anyone says.”
