“You should have, Stitch,” I whisper, swallowing the ache as my eyes crack open, alighting on his prone form. “Because look what I did.”
Then there was that time he promised to buy me a new dress after spilling wine on the one I wore to our family dinner. “You can’t buy forgiveness,” I told him, lashing out.
A sob escapes my throat.
“I’m sorry I interfered in your life,” he’d told me. “We all did. You’re our little sister. No matter how strong or capable you may be, it’s our instinct to protect you.”
“And look where that got you, you great big asshead!” I rail at him, my voice rising along with my anger. I want to stand up and punch him for doing what he did. For using Jake as bait and not telling me. For coming in after me. For being the best brother a sister could ever ask for.
Instead, I push up out of my wheelchair, putting pressure on my good leg, and I lean across and hug him. My cheek rests on his chest as tears pour down my face. “I’m sorry.” My voice cracks. “I’m so sorry.”
After taking a deep breath, I hobble backward and stumble into my chair. I’m exhausted and drained, and I need to get out of here. Not just this room. The whole hospital. I can’t breathe.
I get on my phone and summon an Uber.
JAKE
It pains me to return holding nothing but a dried-out looking ham and cheese sandwich. Mac eats a lot of rubbish. A shitload, really. There’s not an hour of the day that goes by when she’s not jamming something in her mouth. A burger, fries, Evie’s lemon slice, Quinn’s peanut butter and white chocolate chip cookies, and those damn redskin lollies that get stuck in her teeth and will likely cause cavities.
You would think her the size of a house with the calories she consumes each day, but her fury burns them faster than a lit match. Even so, she needs to be healthier, especially with a baby on the way. This sandwich isn’t really the epitome of wholesome food. Maybe I should get some advice from Jared.
I push open her hospital room door and find the bed empty.
Goddammit.
I turn around and head straight for the elevator. After jabbing the up button, I stand and wait. Eventually the doors ding loudly and zip open, expelling Travis, Jared, and Evie, the latter slurping her way through a chocolate thickshake. Surely that drink is full of preservatives. There’s no way in hell Mac will be ingesting any of the like during her pregnancy.
“She’s not here,” I tell them, putting my arm across the doorway of the elevator to keep it open.
They halt en masse as I step inside and turn.
“Where is she?” Travis asks.
I point up, indicating she’s visiting Mitch. They all step back in, and I press nine. The doors close and the elevator ascends.
Jared reclines against the side wall, hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face. It’s directed at me.
“What?”
His voice is accusatory. “You let her out of bed.”
My lips peel back in a sarcastic smile. “Oh, that’s cute. You think when I told Mac she couldn’t get out of bed and visit Mitch that she’d actually listen.”
“You shouldn’t have left her alone.”
My eyes narrow. “She was hungry, Valentine.” I wave the offensive looking sandwich in his face. “Was I supposed to let her starve?”
“Enough!” Travis shouts. His face is pained. “We’re all stressed and upset right now. Let’s not take it out on each other.”
“He started it,” I mutter, which basically makes me an immature dick.
“You’re a dick,” Jared retorts, verbalising the obvious.
Travis shakes his head. “I can’t believe you two fuckers are going to be dads. God help us all.”
Evie unwraps her lips from the straw. “Amen,” she adds.
Eventually we arrive at Mitch’s room. Mac isn’t there. Panic climbs my throat. It feels like heartburn. I rub at my chest.
“Maybe she was going back down as we were coming up?” Evie suggests.
Panic recedes. “You’re right. You all stay here and I’ll go back down.”
I leave them and race back down to Mac’s room, but she hasn’t returned. I’m standing beside her bed when my phone rings. I tug it free from the back pocket of my jeans. After checking who the incoming call is from, I hit the red decline button.
It rings again.
I decline again.
It rings again.
I huff and answer it, putting the phone to my ear. “Jake Romero.”
“Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s fine, but I’m just in the middle of something. Can I call back later?”
“No. I was told to tell you it’s urgent.”
I swipe a hand down the side of my face. I can’t deal with this right now. “How urgent is urgent because—”
“It’s urgent, Mr. Romero.”
A heavy, frustrated sigh escapes me. They wouldn’t tell me it was if it wasn’t. “I’ll be right there.”
I send a message to Travis. She’s not here. You need to search the hospital. Get security to check the tapes. It might seem an excessive step, but this is Mac we’re talking about.
It takes me forty-five minutes to reach my destination. It usually takes me half an hour, but I have fractured ribs and questionable vision. I rush past reception instead of taking the time to sign the visitor registration log like I usually do. After walking through a maze of turns and corridors, I go through another door which takes me outdoors and along a meandering road. From here there are buggies that can take you to your destination, but I choose to walk quickly. It’s not far.
When I reach villa number five oh nine, I open the door with my key and step inside. My father is on his daybed in the living area. It’s set on an incline so he’s half sitting in front of a window where he can view the gardens that sprawl outward.
When I see Mac beside him, my knees almost buckle with relief. What is she doing here? I had no idea she even knew where my father lived. She’s lying in the expensive recliner I bought after getting the shits over the crappy chairs the assisted living facility provided. She has the leg rest up and the back shoved down.
My father’s eyes are a little glassy as they watch her rather than the window, and it’s then that I realise she’s talking.
“And then I told him I only came after him so I could rip off his head and feed it to the sharks.”
Dad makes a garbled noise. It’s the sound of him laughing and I wonder if Mac realises that. I want to tell her so she understands his response, but I want to keep listening too. I let it go and stand by the door, remaining unobtrusive and quiet.
“It’s not funny, Mike,” she replies and my brows pull down, puzzled. She knew it was him laughing. The only way she could have known was if she’d spent considerable time with him since his aneurysm. “He was going to leave. I should’ve shot him instead of Ross.”
Dad’s garbled sounds grow louder. She’s making him laugh hard. A lump forms in my throat. Then he speaks. “Maaart knooooorrrk sense.”
After years of listening to him talk, I know what he’s saying, but Mac—
She snorts, understanding him perfectly. “Nothing will knock sense into that hard head of his.”
Dad garbles again.
Oh god, my fucking heart.
“Did you know we’re supposed to be engaged?”