13. Desperate Measures
Chapter thirteen
Desperate Measures
X ander
I’m staring at my phone, thumb hovering over Ellie’s number. I want to text her, ask how her doctor’s appointment went, tell her I miss her. Hell, I want to FaceTime her just so I can see her face. I haven’t seen her since Friday, and that’s way too long for me at this point.
But then the door opens, and the doctor walks in. I shove my phone into my pocket and stand, my muscles tense as I brace for whatever news he’s about to give.
“Are you the family of Vanessa Chase?” the doctor asks, glancing down at the chart in his hands.
“I’m the one who brought her in,” I reply, my voice clipped. I can still feel the weight of everything that’s happened hanging heavy in my chest.
The doctor nods, his expression shifting to something more serious. “What exactly happened?”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration and guilt twisting together in a knot that won’t go away. “Vanessa came over last night. She was… off. I could tell she’d taken something, though I wasn’t sure what. She was hysterical, crying, asking why I was discarding her. She was clearly not taking the break up well. I tried to calm her down, gave her some water, told her to get some sleep.”
The doctor watches me closely, his brow furrowing.
“This morning, early hours, I went to check on her. I found her collapsed in my bathroom.” My voice drops as I remember the panic that had seized me in that moment. “She must’ve gotten into my meds. I keep some painkillers from an old injury. She… took them.”
The doctor’s face remains neutral, professional, as he flips through the chart. “You did the right thing bringing her in. It looks like she had severe alcohol poisoning, and there were traces of a couple of substances in her system—cocaine, mostly—but it was the combination with your painkillers that made her collapse.”
My stomach clenches. The painkillers. I’ve kept them in the bathroom since I injured my shoulder a couple years ago. Never thought twice about them. Never thought Vanessa would...
“What happens now?” I ask, my voice a little rougher than I intend.
The doctor closes the chart, slipping it under his arm. “We’ve stabilized her, but she’ll need to stay for observation. She can have visitors soon, but the nurses will come get you when she’s awake.”
“Can I just see her? I want to…. Can I just see her?”
“Okay. I will talk to the nurse.”
I nod, my jaw clenched as I process everything. The last thing I wanted was to be here, dealing with this. I didn’t even know Vanessa was in this kind of state. I didn’t know she was this… volatile. It wasn’t like this when we were together. Not that I’d ever known. But people change, and apparently, I missed all the warning signs.
“Thank you, doctor,” I manage to say.
The doctor gives me a sympathetic nod before turning and walking away, leaving me alone in the sterile, cold waiting room. I sit back down, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair as guilt gnaws at me from the inside.
How the fuck did it come to this?
I didn’t want Vanessa in my life anymore. Not like this. When she showed up last night, I knew it was a bad idea to let her stay, but I couldn’t just throw her out. She was crying, a mess, saying things that barely made sense. And now… now she’s in a hospital bed because I didn’t take her seriously enough. I should have called someone—her family, her friends, anyone who could’ve helped her better than I could.
I close my eyes, leaning back in the chair, and exhale a long, shaky breath.
This is a fucking disaster.
I don’t want to be here. I should be with Ellie. I should be texting her, asking how her morning went, seeing if she’s alright. But instead, I’m here, trapped in a mess I didn’t ask for, dealing with someone I thought I’d left behind a long time ago.
The image of Vanessa, pale and unconscious on the bathroom floor, flashes in my mind. The sight of her made my blood run cold. I don’t know what she was trying to prove, what she was thinking, or if this was some cry for help. And now, I’m stuck feeling like I’m responsible.
Fuck.
I rub a hand over my face, trying to clear my head, but it’s no use. The guilt is there, and it’s not going anywhere.
The doctor said she’d be okay. That’s what matters, right?
I pull out my phone again, tempted to text Ellie, but my mind is too jumbled to focus on anything right now. I put it away, leaning forward in the chair, my elbows resting on my knees. I hate that she has no idea what’s going on. I hate that this is happening at all.
But I can’t tell her. Not yet. This is... too much.
I glance at the clock on the wall, watching the seconds tick by in slow motion. The minutes feel like hours, and all I can do is sit here, waiting.
A nurse appears at the door, her soft voice breaking the silence. “Mr. Blackwood?”
I nod, standing up, my legs heavy as I follow her down the hallway. The hospital smells sterile, a mix of antiseptic and something I can’t place. It’s the smell of dread, of things gone wrong.
The nurse stops at a door and opens it, gesturing for me to enter. I steel myself as I step into the room, the hum of machines filling the space. Vanessa is lying there, still and fragile. Her once golden skin looks pale under the fluorescent lights, and her hands, usually manicured to perfection, are chipped and rough.
I approach her slowly, my chest tightening. This isn’t the same woman who used to walk runways, flaunting expensive lingerie like she owned the world. Now, she looks... broken. Small. Like all the vibrancy that once made her Vanessa is gone.
Her hand is lying limp on the bed, and I reach for it, gently wrapping my fingers around hers. It’s cold, almost lifeless, and I hate the way guilt surges through me, twisting in my gut like a blade.
I don’t owe her anything. We ended things long ago. But seeing her like this, knowing she’s here because she got lost in something I didn’t even know she was battling... it fucks me up.
Her breathing is shallow, her chest barely rising and falling. She’s asleep, or sedated—honestly, I’m not sure. But seeing her like this… I can’t just walk away.
I squeeze her hand gently. “Vanessa...” I whisper, even though I know she can’t hear me. My throat feels tight, and I swallow down the emotions threatening to spill over.
She doesn’t move. Just lies there, still and frail, completely unlike the woman I used to know.
I stand there for what feels like hours, but it’s probably only a few minutes. The guilt is gnawing at me, and I hate that part of me feels responsible. If I had been more careful… if I hadn’t let her stay last night… maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
Fuck.
I pull my hand away from hers, running a hand through my hair as I step back, taking one last look at her. She doesn’t stir.
After talking to the nurses, I ask them to keep me informed on her condition. They nod, assuring me they’ll call with any updates, and I turn to leave. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I glance at it, seeing Ellie’s name on the screen.
I need to see her. I need to get out of here.
Me: Heading to the office. See you soon.
I tuck the phone back into my pocket, trying to shake off the weight sitting on my chest. As I walk down the hallway, it feels like every step is heavier than the last. I just need to get back to normal—to the office, to Ellie, to anything that doesn’t involve hospitals and guilt.
But the second I step outside the hospital; I’m hit with a wall of flashes. Cameras. Shouting voices. The paparazzi.
“Mr. Blackwood! Is Vanessa Chase okay?”
“Are you back together with her, Mr. Blackwood?”
“What happened to Vanessa? Did she overdose?”
My jaw clenches as I push past them, my shoulders tight. They swarm me, and I can’t even fucking breathe. I should’ve known they’d be here. It’s Vanessa Chase, former model. They love this kind of shit.
“No comment,” I mutter, keeping my head down as I push through the crowd. I just need to get to my car, away from this chaos.
The flashing lights follow me all the way to the parking lot, the questions pounding in my ears. The guilt. The fucking guilt. I grit my teeth, finally getting into my car and slamming the door shut. The sounds are muffled now, the chaos locked outside.
I sit there for a second, breathing hard, my hands gripping the steering wheel. I close my eyes, trying to center myself. I have to deal with this. I don’t have a choice.
But right now? Right now, I just need to see Ellie.