Chapter Twenty-Three #2
We follow my dad to his car, and I pause beside the passenger door.
My entire body begins to shake so hard that I can’t even reach for the handle.
Sophia takes charge and encourages me into the back seat before sliding in beside me and shutting the door.
She buckles my seatbelt for me like I’m a little kid, and from out of nowhere she has a thick blue blanket in her hands, which she tucks all around me.
I’m immobile, overwhelmed with emotions, yet also grateful she’s taking care of me.
My body slowly relaxes against the soft leather seat, and I close my eyes when the car starts moving.
My mind offers up a memory of winding roads and hairpin turns on the route from Wickham to the hospital, and some self-protective instinct tries to pull me into sleep so I can avoid experiencing it.
Shivers of adrenaline periodically race through my fingers, making them twitch. My father and Sophia begin to speak.
“God, that was too close.” Dad’s voice is ragged.
“My father said the same thing,” Sophia murmurs.
“You’ve been a good friend to Billie, Sophia. Thank you for that, and thank you for telling Percy in time for him to call me. I’m glad she brought you into her confidence. She’s had keep too many secrets during her time here.”
“I’m glad, too. When she told me what she and Connor were planning, I took it straight to my parents.” Sophia pauses. “I hate to think what would have happened if we hadn’t gotten there in time.”
I’m half asleep thanks to the gentle rocking of the car and the warmth filling the interior, but Sophia’s words perk me up. “You finally decided to be the snitch those assholes think you are, huh?”
Sophia actually laughs, and I savor the joyful sound. “Hell yeah, I did. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I can’t believe you and Connor thought confronting a potential killer at the scene of his crime was a good idea.”
“Um, not potential,” I whisper.
The car goes eerily quiet as they absorb what I said. What it means.
“Are you saying Freddie … confessed?” Dad asks.
I’m drifting. It’s all been too much, and I can barely think, let alone talk. “Mm-hmm.”
My father asks another question, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. The darkness is too strong, and I finally let it pull me under.
…
Once we arrive at the hospital, we’re met by Whitney, who was visiting with Isla when Dad called her to explain the situation.
A nurse’s assistant escorts me to a private room, where Whitney insists on staying with me while I get checked out.
My father goes upstairs to look in on Isla, and Sophia goes with him, telling me she wants to check on her Little.
Whitney fusses over me while we wait for Dad’s doctor to appear.
She gives me water and requests pain medication when another nurse comes in to check on us.
I sit on the edge of the examination table in a haze, slumped over in exhaustion.
I just want to lie down. Rest. My head hurts, my entire body aches, and while I don’t see many physical injuries on me, I feel beat up inside.
Thank God the worst is over, though there’s still more to come.
I have to talk to the police as soon as possible—tell them what Freddie confessed, so they don’t file formal charges against Isla.
As long as I have my family and Sophia and Connor standing by my side, I’ll be okay.
It feels so good, that realization. I’ve been on my own for so long that bearing the weight of the world on my shoulders has practically become second nature.
But now I feel like I can share the load.
I can let myself get taken care of, instead of doing all the caretaking.
I don’t love how this all came to pass, but that, at least, is a positive outcome.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Whitney cups my face with delicate hands, her tawny brown eyes brimming with tears. “I was so worried about you. I told Peter countless times maybe it wasn’t a good idea, having you out there, but look at you. You did it. You figured out everything.”
I lean into her palm and close my eyes so I don’t cry with her. “I had help. Isla left plenty of clues.”
“Take the credit where it’s due, Billie.” She leans in and presses a soft kiss to my cheek just as the door opens and the doctor strides in.
He looks me over with the usual poking and prodding. He worries at first that I might have a cracked rib but, after a few extra pokes, tells me he suspects it’s just “a god-awful bruise.”
“You’re going to be sore, young lady,” he warns me. “But you’ll be all right. Acetaminophen, ice on the worst of the bruises, twenty minutes on and twenty minutes off for the first twenty-four hours.”
The doctor is just about finished with my exam when the door swings open again, Sophia barreling inside and skidding to a stop.
“Young lady, you can’t just run into an examination room without knocking,” the doctor chastises, but Sophia completely ignores him.
“She’s awake! Isla’s awake!” Sophia practically screams.
With zero hesitation, I’m hopping off the table and running out of the room with Sophia, Whitney just behind us.
We enter the elevator and ride up to Isla’s floor.
Whitney is clutching her hands in front of her, dead silent.
I’m too stunned to speak. But Sophia chatters on, practically vibrating with excitement.
“We were sitting on either side of Isla’s bed, and Peter was talking to her, telling her how much he misses her, when we heard a soft groan.
He went silent and looked at me. ‘Did you hear that?’ and I said yeah, I definitely did!
Then Isla said, ‘Mum?’ so I ran downstairs to get you while Peter stayed in Isla’s room.
He pressed the call button for the nurse,” Sophia explains, bouncing on her feet. “I can’t believe it!”
I can’t, either. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for. The timing is impeccable.
The elevator doors slide open, and Sophia darts out while Whitney hesitates.
I check her face and find she’s struggling to keep it together.
When she holds out her hand toward me, I take it.
We keep our hands linked, staying together as we head for Isla’s room.
The corridor feels as long as a football field, like the distance is growing with every step we take.
Exhaustion is settling into my bones, but my heart is racing at the prospect of seeing Isla awake.
Inside Isla’s room, it’s pure, controlled chaos.
Two nurses are there, checking Isla’s vitals and adjusting her IV bags.
My father’s face is a study in joy. He’s lit up from the inside, his smile wide and full of utter relief.
Whitney lets go of my hand to rush toward him, and he holds out his arms, though he only wraps one around his wife.
The other he opens toward me, encouraging me forward, and I go to him.
He hugs us both, murmuring. “Our family is together at last.”
“We’ll let you stay,” one of the nurses tells us. “The neurologist should be here at any moment. He’ll want to check on Isla here. Run some tests. But so far, she looks great.” She aims a warm smile at our little tableau, then follows the other nurse out of the room.
“I’m going to grab a coffee,” Sophia announces as she starts to exit the room. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Sophia.” I smile at her, and she offers one last wave before she walks out, closing the door behind her.
I sag against my father’s chest, and Whitney does the same. I’ve never felt such relief and happiness before in my life. Isla is finally awake, and hopefully she’s going to be okay.
I watch my sister, my eyes greedy for the sight of her.
I step closer to her bed while Whitney and Dad stand by her on the other side.
Even though her eyes are closed again, there’s color in her cheeks and she definitely looks more vibrant than the last time I saw her.
She opens her eyes slowly, like there are bricks weighing down her eyelids, and she turns her head toward Dad and Whitney.
Her eyes are full of tears when she asks, “Emily? Please tell me …”
We all share a look, but it’s Dad who lets Isla know Emily isn’t with us anymore. He doesn’t go into too much detail because one of the nurses warned she’d be in a fragile state at first, but Isla falls apart anyway.
Once she composes herself, she murmurs, “There’s so much I need to share with you. I—”
“We know, Isla,” I say, interrupting her. “I followed your clues. We figured everything out. About George. About Mom. About … me.”
Isla’s eyes are closed again, though tears still slide down her cheeks. She parts her lips and whispers, “Good.” But then she seems to doze off.
“Get some rest.” I take Isla’s hand and press a kiss to the back of it. “I’ll be here when you wake up again.” Then, with a glance up at Whitney and Dad, I say, “I’ll be here from now on.”
…
My dad told me Connor’s room number, and I find it easily, since it’s on the same floor as Isla’s.
I slip inside, grateful to find it’s empty save for Connor, lying in the hospital bed with his eyes closed and his arm in a sling.
Whitney told me he had surgery on his arm, and his parents were by his side until just a few minutes ago, when they left briefly to grab some dinner.
I stand in the doorway for a moment and just take him in, trying to contain the emotions that want to sweep over me and drag me under. He’s going to be okay.
We all are.
“Have you turned into a stalker?”
I blink myself back into focus at the sound of Connor’s amused voice. “Excuse me?”
“You’re being such a weirdo, just staring at me over there.” He lifts his good arm and gestures at the space between us. “Or did they declare I have a contagious disease and you can’t come near me?”
Rolling my eyes, I hurry to his bed and lean over, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “So bossy all the time.”
“I use humor to mask my real feelings,” he admits, his lips curving upward.
“You do not. When I first met you, you were incredibly standoffish.”
“It’s because I thought you were hot.” His smile grows, and mine does, too.
I don’t bother mentioning that I know what it’s like to close yourself off to protect your soft, vulnerable heart.
That I’d recognized another wounded animal limping through the world all by itself.
Knowing what happened to Emily won’t bring her back, won’t heal the pain, but it might ease the hurt.
Freddie will pay for what he did, to Isla and to Emily.
I’ll make sure of it.
Pulling up a chair, I sit as close to Connor as I can get and study his beloved face. He’s a little beat up, with all sorts of scratches and bruises forming across his face and arms. “How’s the arm?”
“Broken in two places. And I have a concussion. I’m a right mess.” Connor chuckles until he winces. “I can’t laugh, either. Hurts too much.”
“The doctor thought I had a broken rib,” I admit.
He swivels his head in my direction, wincing at the quick movement. “Do you?”
He sounds like he can’t bear the thought of me being injured, and I want to swoon. “No. Just badly bruised.”
Connor exhales slowly. “Good.”
“Were you worried?”
“I always worry about you, Billie. You have this way of getting yourself into … dangerous predicaments.”
“Not anymore.” I take his hand and lace our fingers together. “Freddie is going to jail. My girl-sleuth days are behind me.”
“Think he’ll share a cell with his dear ol’ dad?”
I shake my head. “Doubtful. But they’re both behind bars where they belong.”
“Thank God,” Connor breathes, closing his eyes. He seems drowsy.
“Are you in pain?”
“Not too bad. A little bit,” he admits, his eyes still closed.
“Want me to sing something to make you feel better?” I want to laugh, but I try to control myself.
He cracks one eye open and scowls. “Someone already tried to murder me today, but thanks.”
I get a case of the giggles, and he tugs on my hand, forcing me to stand.
I lean over him, our faces close as I stare into his eyes.
The moment goes from light to somber in an instant.
“I know we … said things. On the cliff. You were practically delirious with pain and we had both just experienced something so … terrifying. So, so scary. But I almost lost you up there, Connor. So I know I really mean it when I say I love you. I just wanted you to know it’s still real for me. Even after everything.”
“I almost lost you—and I love you, too, Billie.” His expression is grave. “Fucking Freddie.”
“Fucking Freddie,” I whisper, leaning in to deliver the softest kiss to Connor’s lips. “My sister is awake.”
“What?” He’s so loud I need to lean back as if he’s a one-man bomb blast. “You waited this long to tell me?”
“I wanted to check on you first and make sure you’re in one piece.” I shrug one shoulder. “The doctors think Isla’s going to be okay.”
“This is wonderful news.” He shifts and lifts his arm, settling his hand on my cheek. “The best news ever. What a day.”
I rest my hand over his and nod. “What a day is right.”
“Plus, with the discovery of your birth father …” Connor’s voice drifts, and we stare at each other for a long moment. “You’re a Canterbury now.”
A sigh leaves me, and we drop our hands. “Yeah, about that.”
Connor frowns. “What about it?”
“I know out on the cliffs I told you that secrets ruin lives. But this is one I think I’d like us to keep,” I explain.
His frown deepens, and I continue. “Those of us who know, know. But I’m in no hurry to stake a claim to the Canterbury fortune, Connor.
I’m a Vale. It’s who I’ve always been. It’s who I want to be. ”
His frown disappears, replaced by the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. “Billie Vale, then.”
“Yeah.” My nod is firm, the smile stretching my mouth so wide it almost hurts. “Billie Vale.”