38. Greedy
Chapter 38
Greedy
The only light in the room comes from the medical equipment. The red, blue, green, and blinding white. Some flashing, some glowing steadily.
Hunter is hooked up to two or three monitors and receiving an IV drip to keep her hydrated. The staff swore she woke up in triage but was too confused and disoriented to give them any information, including her name.
Only when I introduced myself—and painfully used the term stepbrother to get permission to stay past visiting hours—did anyone give much consideration to Hunter’s situation.
All we know is that she fell, that her face, neck, and arms are covered in small lacerations, and that they suspect a concussion, but won’t know for sure until she wakes up and they can evaluate her cognition and recall.
There’s been no mention of broken bones or internal bleeding. Although I can’t imagine she doesn’t have at least a few cracked ribs after a tumble down that many stairs.
The lacerations don’t make sense. How did she get so cut up? They’re sprinkled all over, and the one on her jaw was severe enough to require stitches.
We know little about the events that led to the fall. She’s only been settled on this floor for a couple of hours. By morning rounds, we should have more information about the severity of her injuries.
Likewise, by morning, our girl will hopefully be awake and able to tell us herself what happened.
For what feels like a lifetime, Levi and I sit in silence on the vinyl couch shoved against one side of the hospital room with our legs press together. Every now and then, he’ll rest his head on my shoulder or I’ll have the urge to squeeze his knee, thankful to have him by my side. He’s like a tether, tugging at me, reminding me I’m not alone when my thoughts turn too dark or when hopelessness surrounding my dad and Magnolia sets in.
The beeps of the monitor and the occasional alarm across the hall at the nurse’s station are melodic background noise, almost inaudible over the loud, intrusive thoughts vying for dominance in my brain. I don’t know how much time has passed—minutes, hours, half the night—when I’m jolted awake by a sharp knock on the closed door.
Before I can rise, it swings open. Kabir and Sione stand in the doorframe, illuminated from behind by the harsh fluorescent lights in the hall.
My heart pangs at the sight of them. Finally .
It’s been hours since we arrived. Why the hell has it taken so long for them to get here?
I lean forward, ready to stand and greet them, but before I can, Kabir whispers “don’t” through the darkness.
Breath held, I search his face. What the fuck? Why wouldn’t he want me to come out into the hall and get them up to speed?
I blink at him, wondering if I misheard him, but then he holds up his hand and shakes his head again.
Angling back against the couch cushion, I side-eye Levi. He’s fast asleep, his head bobbing at an awkward angle as he snoozes with his arms over his chest.
I turn back to the others, annoyed, honestly, that they haven’t even attempted to enter the room. They need to see this. To see the state of our girl. To see exactly what Magnolia did. I open my mouth to tell them as much, but the vibrating of my phone snags my attention before I can make a sound.
Spence: I won’t make it to the hospital tonight, I’m afraid. I have an appointment with my accountant I can’t reschedule. Si and I will be by tomorrow, bright and early.
By the time I’ve finished reading the text, the door is being pulled closed and the room is cast in nothing but the glow of medical equipment once more.