I didn’t argue when Xavier insisted on accompanying me to the hospital.
He’d driven to the club today, and it was easier taking his car than hailing a cab.
Rhea’s stressed voice echoed in my head as we sped toward the hospital.
My day off…Penny collapsed on the street…hospitalized…
She hadn’t had time to fill me in on the details before a nurse called for her in the background. The lack of context sent my stomach into upheaval and my imagination spiraling down thorny paths.
How badly was Pen hurt? Was this a broken limb or something worse?
Would they have to operate on her?
Dread clawed at my insides.
I should’ve checked in on her earlier. It’d been a month since London, and Rhea gave me the occasional text update, but I should’ve found time to sneak in a video call. Instead, I’d been buried in work and Xavier.
Logic told me Rhea would’ve been more distraught if Pen were in serious danger, but logic always cracked in the face of frigid, debilitating fear.
Thankfully, Xavier didn’t ask questions or make conversation. He simply gunned through the streets, navigating jaywalkers and traffic with
surprising dexterity…until we hit the gridlocked mess that was Midtown Manhattan during rush hour.
The lights were green, but traffic was so backed up, no one could move. “What happened?” I straightened, trying to make sense of the snarl of
cars, pedestrians, and bicyclists weaving through the intersection.
“Looks like an accident.” Xavier opened the driver-side, leaned out, and did a quick survey of our surroundings. “We’re backed up for blocks.”
Shit. My hands curled around the edge of my seat. We could be stuck here for hours, and I didn’t have hours.
What if Pen took a sudden turn for the worse? What if I missed out on seeing her for the last time by—
No. Don’t go there.
I fought for calm. Devolving into a hysterical mess wouldn’t do anyone any favors.
“I’ll be right back.” Xavier got out of the car fully. “If traffic somehow disappears in the next five minutes, my baby is in your hands.” He patted the top of his Porsche.
“What are you…?” I twisted around to watch as he walked down the line of cars behind us and knocked on the window of the last one. The driver rolled it down, Xavier handed him something, and after a short exchange, the car reversed and turned onto a side street.
Thankfully, there were only three cars blocking us, and Xavier repeated this process with the last two until we were clear.
“Change of plans.” He slid back into his seat and followed the others’ lead in reversing and rerouting. “This next part might be bumpy.”
“What did you do?”
“Gave the drivers three hundred bucks each to go the opposite direction.” Xavier frowned at the side street, which was also clogged. “Bribery works wonders.”
“We need to talk about the dangerous amount of cash you carry— shit.” I clutched the door’s armrest, my heart leaping into my mouth as the Porsche swerved onto the sidewalk. “This is not a road!”
“I’m aware.” He plowed forward, two of the wheels on the sidewalk and two on the street, past a queue of blaring car horns and angry curses. “There are no people walking here, and I can afford the fine.”
“You’ve lost your mind—fuck!” My heartbeat ratcheted up another notch when we nearly sideswiped a fire hydrant, and I didn’t breathe until we finally, finally turned on a new street and returned to proper driving.
As in, no sidewalk, only asphalt.
The incoming rush of oxygen made me dizzy. Note to self: never get in a car with Xavier behind the wheel again.
“You need to get to the hospital. This is the fastest way we can get there,” he said calmly. He drove with one hand; the other closed around over mine, interlacing our fingers. I stiffened with surprise. “Don’t worry, Luna. We’ll make it.”
I stared at his profile for a second before my gaze drifted to our intertwined hands. His was so large it engulfed mine, and so warm the heat radiated up my arm, through my chest, and into my stomach.
He was focused on the road, and his act of comfort was a casual, unthinking one, but somehow that made it all the more intimate.
Emotion climbed into my throat, thick and sudden.
I missed sex because I hadn’t had it in a month, but I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this. Non-sexual touches. Easy intimacy. Connection, in one form or another.
Maybe it was because I hadn’t had this in years, if I’d ever really had it at all.
I faced forward and squeezed Xavier’s hand, letting his reassuring strength calm me. I didn’t care about displaying vulnerability in that moment; I just needed someone to hold on to.
Luckily, we didn’t hit major traffic again, and we arrived at the hospital in relatively short order.
“You go inside,” he said. “I’ll look for parking.” I didn’t argue.
For a random Wednesday afternoon, the hospital was packed, but since I was family, I easily made it past the front desk.
I checked my phone in the elevator. No new messages from Rhea, which I assumed was a good thing. Please let her be okay.
The doors slid open. I ran out, turned the corner, and— My stomach plummeted.
George and Caroline stood in the hall, him in a suit and her in a designer tweed dress. Their backs faced me, but I would recognize them anywhere.
I’d been so focused on seeing Pen I hadn’t considered their presence. Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they hadn’t shown up. They had a habit of ignoring her unless it was absolutely necessary.
They were talking to a nurse and hadn’t noticed me yet. Rhea, however, did. Our gazes locked before she deliberately turned, letting me take advantage of George and Caroline’s distraction to slip into Pen’s room.
I’d deal with the fallout later. Right now, I needed to see her.
Pen appeared to be sleeping, but she stirred when I closed the door behind me.
She turned her head, her eyes widening with surprise. “Sloane?”
“Hi.” I mustered a faint smile even as I frantically scanned her for signs of grievous injury. She looked so tiny in the hospital bed, but other than a giant bandage over her forehead, I didn’t spot anything amiss. She didn’t seem to have any broken limbs, bruises, or contusions. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.” Pen’s voice was thin but steady. “Don’t worry. It’s just a cut. Everyone’s freaking out over nothing.”
“What happened?” The knots in my chest loosened, but worry lingered in the spaces between them.
“It’s so stupid,” she grumbled, sounding her full nine years of age. “I fell and hit my head on the sidewalk. That’s it.”
“Pen.” I leveled her with a stern stare.
She heaved an aggrieved sigh. “I crashed while Annie and I were taking a walk. I hit my head on the curb and, um, almost got run over by a bicycle.”
I bit back a curse and a litany of questions. Annie was Rhea’s backup whenever Rhea had the day off. She should’ve known better than to take Pen out at this time of day, when she was most likely to crash.
Thankfully, it appeared to have been a mild crash or she would’ve been knocked out instead of talking to me, but still.
I smoothed a hand over her hair, my heart squeezing at how fine and delicate it felt. She was so young, and she’d already been through so much.
“But I’m okay.” Pen’s eyes drifted closed before she opened them again, her small face filled with determination. She always resisted sleeping when we saw each other. The selfish part of me was thankful for the extra time; the anxious part worried it made her crashes worse. “Annie took me here just in case…”
I could guess why they’d put her in a private room so soon. My father had donated an entire wing to the hospital years ago.
“Where’s Annie now?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She got fired.” Pen looked down. “Rhea left her niece’s baby shower early to see me.”
“Because she cares about you. We all do,” I said gently.
I glanced at the bandage again. It was a relatively minor injury, but even minor injuries could have intense effects on people with CFS. The recovery took longer, and the pain could intensify their symptoms.
“Do Mom and Dad know you’re here?” Pen’s eyes were closing again. “Not yet.” Dread punctured my relief at the thought of confronting
them.
“I’m glad you came. They’ll…” Her voice faded into nothing, and she was out.
I lingered for a minute, savoring our last moments together. Pen and I had both changed since I left my family years ago.
We were older, somewhat wiser, and more cognizant of what we were dealing with when it came to George and Caroline. But in some ways, we were the same—still trapped by our circumstances, still helpless to change them.
The adrenaline from Rhea’s call dissipated, leaving me with cold, hard clarity. The second I stepped into the hall, George and Caroline would know I’d been secretly seeing Pen. The only way I could’ve gotten here so quickly was if Rhea had contacted me, and the only reason I’d come so quickly was because I loved Pen. Considering she’d been four during our last known-to-them contact, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out we’d kept in touch over the years.
Maybe I’d get lucky. Maybe George and Caroline wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, and they wouldn’t fire Rhea or lock Pen somewhere I couldn’t get to her out of spite.
Yeah, and maybe Satan will repent and give up ruling the underworld to become an elf in Santa’s workshop.
I was tempted to hide in Pen’s room and wait for my family to leave before I slipped out, but from what I could see through the door window, that wasn’t happening anytime soon. It would be infinitely worse if someone came in and found me skulking around.
I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t a coward. Whatever the consequences were, I’d deal with them. I only hoped I could shield Rhea from the brunt of the impact. She’d told me about Pen’s hospitalization knowing I would show up and she’d probably get fired. She’d done it because she knew Pen would want to see me, and she didn’t deserve to be let go over a moment of empathy.
I steeled myself, walked to the exit, and opened the door.
However, I barely crossed the threshold before I came to a dead halt.
George, Caroline, and Rhea weren’t the only people outside Pen’s room anymore. The nurse was gone, and a slim, perfectly groomed blond stood next to my father and stepmother. Beside her, a handsome man with brown hair and blue eyes looked around with a bored expression.
This time, there was no sneaking past them. Their conversation fell silent as the door shut behind me, and my four (ex) family members gaped at me with varying expressions of shock, disbelief, and confusion.
“Well,” the blond said, recovering first. “This is a surprise.”
I suppressed a flinch. Her voice, lovely as it was, had the effect of burrowing into my skin and peeling the scabs off old wounds. Seeing him was worse. It was like having a Mack truck from the past blindside me from behind and send me flying.
They were the only people who could still make me feel inferior and insignificant.
My sister Georgia and Bentley—her husband, my brother-in-law…and my ex-fiancé.
