“I’m the fourth.” Tessa Taylor, having arrived at some point during the pandemonium of questions, jumps forward, linking a hand with E’s and shooting an apology over her shoulder to Grayson. Not one person here would deny that E, Bette, and I would be the other three.
“I’m aware Kayla sustained her injuries from an assault.” Dr. Holloway speaks to the group as a whole but gives the bulk of his attention to the two officers. “Given the severity of those injuries and the resulting concussion and pain medicine administered, now is not the best time to get a statement.”
“Understood.” The officers are quick to nod their acceptance. “We will still need to speak with both Ms. Dennings and Mr. Nova eventually, but that can wait. With video taken of the incident and statements from witnesses at the scene, we have enough to proceed with bringing up charges should her family wish to do so.”
“You’re goddamn right we do,” E fumes. “Throw the whole fucking book at that son of a bitch.”
Bette runs a hand over E’s back to calm him. This is not the time or place for him to lose it, not that I’m doing any better at the moment.
“Listen…” E says after taking a deep calming breath. “I’ll give you whatever you need from me, just let me check on my sister first. After that I’m all yours.”
Details sorted, Dr. Holloway informs nurse Vicki where we can find Kay, and we follow her back through the emergency room, past various bays and beds filled with other patients being treated, until we come to one toward the back.
I stare at the white curtain in front of me as if by doing so hard enough, I can see through it. The metal rings clink and clang as nurse Vicki pulls it aside, and I suck in a breath at what’s revealed.
Kay looks even smaller and more fragile than I’ve ever seen her, lying propped up in the hospital bed. Her blonde curls are in disarray across the pillows supporting her, the usually vibrant rainbow highlights almost appearing muted by the gravity of the situation.
There’s a faint hint of orange peeking out from under the dressing covering her temple left over from the betadine solution used to clean her wound, and the bruise on her cheek is more prominent than it was half an hour ago. The center is a garish yellow ringed by red, and the outer layer is a deep purple. My molars grind knowing underneath the baseball-sized bruise lies a broken bone.
“Oh, Kay,” Bette coos, walking slowly to her side, dragging E with her since their hands are clasped together tightly.
Kay stirs at the sound of her sister-in-law’s voice, but her eyes remain closed.
Tessa hangs back at the foot of the bed while I make my way up Kay’s right side. Carefully, I slip a finger under the edge of her hospital gown, lifting it to see how bad her injuries are. I mutter more than a few choice curses at the mottled pattern of discoloration decorating her ivory skin. Seeing her hurt like this breaks a part of me.
“Kay?” I brush a knuckle over the curve of her uninjured cheek. “Can you open up for me, baby?” I ghost a fingertip over her closed lashes.
“You—” She coughs. “You talking dirty to me, Caveman?”
The relief of hearing her voice is enough to have my legs give out, and I have to catch myself on the hard railing of her bed. “Fuck, baby.” I lock my knees so I don’t eat it and bend over to rest my forehead to hers, one of my hands going around to cup the back of her neck. Everything and everyone fades away as I pause to breathe her in. It doesn’t matter that her peppermint and vanilla is masked by antiseptic; all that does matter is that she’s here, she’s awake, and she seems to be alright.
“There’s my girl,” I say when I finally get a glimpse of her gray eyes.
“Why are you naked?” Kay asks, her gaze moving down my neck to my bare torso.
A deep chuckle rumbles from inside my chest. “I have pants on.”
“Pity,” she whispers before her eyes fall closed again.
Just seeing her awake was staggering, but hearing her usual brand of sass has me close to tears. I swallow down the emotion and place a kiss on her forehead.
“Why are you shirtless?” E asks, the stress lines on his face already easing. “Don’t you have any self-respect, man?”
I raise my tatted arm, making the ink dance with a flex. “Jelly, old man?” I tease back, latching onto a rare moment of levity in the heavy.
“I’ll show you an old man.” E brings his arms down in front of him, doing his best impression of a bodybuilder, twisting his face and grunting for added effect.
“I can’t even with you two.” Bette rolls her eyes in a very Kay-like fashion.
“You’re not going to hear any complaints from me.” Tessa eyes me with a shrug, giving me a wink when I look her way.
Soft laughter comes from Kay, her hand squeezing mine as she comes back to the moment.
“You”—E swings an arm around to point at Tessa—“are too young to be noticing boys.”
Another laugh from Kay, but this one is followed by a groan and a mutter about not rolling her eyes.
“I’m sixteen, not six, E.” Tessa puts a hand on her hip and cocks it, punctuating her statement in true teenage fashion.
“Is he even allowed to be in here like that?” E waves a hand at me but directs his question to nurse Vicki. By the time she finishes checking the fluid levels on the IV, Kay has fallen back asleep.
“I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask. From what my daughter-in-law tells me, my son struggles to keep his clothes on…even inside her work kitchen.” With that parting shot, she pats me on the shoulder again, the slap of skin on skin only emphasizing my nakedness, before taking her leave.
E steps out, saying he needs to make a phone call before talking to the police, and I turn my attention back to Kay. I don’t care that she wasn’t awake for long; getting a few moments with her conscious is enough for now.
#Chapter6
Watching Dr. Nikols and her team wheel Kay away for surgery is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Hell, I feel like that’s been the theme of the night, but I can’t protect her if she’s not with me, and I loathe that.
Nurse Vicki arrives at the same time as the surgical team, and with her is one Jordan Donovan.
“And you thought my kids kept you on your toes,” Vicki says to Jordan, a comfortable air of familial affection between them.
“Please, Mama Steele”—Jordan waves off the comment—“half the shit Vince gets into is because of my wombmate.” Shrewd hazel eyes track from me to E. “Plus, a little bit of football drama might be a nice change.”
I get the impression there’s something I’m missing, but I don’t have the brain capacity to handle it with everything else going on.
“For someone I pay to help manage my public profile, you sure do give me a lot of shit, Donovan,” E says as he and Bette exchange hugs hello with the PR dynamo. Jordan Donovan is nothing like you would expect given her cut-throat reputation when it comes to her clients. For starters, most of the “suits” in the sports business always come dressed the part—i.e. in a suit or such—not leggings and an oversized New Jersey Blizzards hoodie.