Chapter Twenty-Five
Instead of telling Colt I heard him and Johnny talking, I cuddle into his side, and he holds me so tightly it hurts. He feels bad enough right now—no need to make it worse.
“I’m sorry, Dee,” he whispers into my hair.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“I shouldn’t have hit Hux in front of you again.”
I scoff. “The one in the wrong was Hux. Throwing that shit in your face… honestly, he is a selfish prick,” I say without thinking.
“You don’t like him much, do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t like him. What I don’t like is him trying to force a lifestyle on you that you’re trying to forget.
You’re better than that, and I know how hard it was for you to let go of that lifestyle.
If you need me to help, use me, Colt. I’m here for you.
I’ll always want what’s best for you. And drugs?
They are definitely not what’s best for you or your brother.
Maybe you need to contact your mum and see if she can help get him back into rehab? ”
“Mum can’t know he’s using again. It will kill her. After all the effort she put into getting us both clean when Dad died, I don’t think she could do it again.”
“Okay, I get it. Well, know that I’m here for you, and if you are struggling, please talk to me.”
“Do you know how much I need you, Dee?”
“About as much as I need you.”
Then we cuddle and head to bed.
I need him to sleep it off.
I am restless, and it’s not long before my cell phone ringing startles me awake.
Colt turns on the side light while I pick up my cell.
“Who is it?” Colt asks while rubbing his eyes.
I try to focus on my phone. “It’s Mummy,” I say with a shrug.
Mummy never calls.
“It’s really early,” I mumble, squinting at the clock glowing 4:13 a.m.
There’s a pause. Then, in a voice edged with something sharp, something that makes my stomach twist, when she says, “Deliah, sweetheart… it’s your father.”
Dread slams into me. “What’s wrong?” I sit up straighter.
She exhales shakily. “He’s been taken to the hospital.
They think it’s a heart attack.” Her voice wavers before breaking completely.
“Darling, he’s been so stressed about you lately, and I think…
I think it’s finally taken its toll.” Her quiet sobs crack through the receiver, and guilt crashes into me like a tidal wave.
That’s one way to make me feel like absolute shit.
My chest tightens, constricting, squeezing until it feels like there’s nothing left inside me. I realize I’m not breathing and suck in a sharp gulp of air, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Colt looks at me with creased brows, and he starts to rub my back.
“Will he be okay?” My voice trembles as tears spill down my cheeks, the weight of guilt crashing down on me like a tidal wave.
I should be there.
I should have been there all along.
This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t left.
Did I cause this?
“I don’t know, darling. I’m on my way to the hospital now. Deliah, you should come home. He would want you here.”
Colt takes the phone from me, and I start to cry. “Mrs. Norman, hi, it’s Colt. What’s going on?”
All I can think about is that my daddy is going to die, and I’m not there to say goodbye.
“Okay, we’ll take the band’s jet and meet you at the hospital.”
I look up at Colt, and he nods, reassuring me that everything will be all right. I stand as he continues to talk to my mummy and get dressed while packing—which is more like throwing things into my suitcase—because who knows how long I’ll be in London.
Will he be fine and fighting fit in a month or so?
Or will I stay and arrange his funeral?
A wave of nausea hits me hard as I steady myself against the countertop. Hot tears pool at my chin as I’m momentarily struck with a fear I’ve never felt before.
Colt’s arms wrap around my waist from behind, comforting me. I lean back into his chest, and he holds on to me tightly. I didn’t even hear him end the call.
“Don’t worry, baby, everything will be okay. I promise,” he says, kissing my neck.
I calm my breathing, and he turns me to face him.
“How do you know everything will be okay? Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I snap, and he flinches.
“Okay, I’ll let that slide because you’re upset, but don’t talk to me like that again. Especially when I’m only trying to help you.”
“Help me? If it weren’t for you, I’d be with my father right now, and this would never have happened,” I say, slamming my suitcase shut.
“I get it… you’re looking for someone to blame. But this is not my fault. It’s no one’s fault, baby. Just stop and talk to me.”
“Colt, I can’t do this right now. Daddy needs me. I have to go.”
“Hang on a minute, let me pack, and I’ll come with you,” he says, throwing things into his suitcase. I rest my hand on his arm, effectively stopping him. He blinks, his expression shifting—uncertainty clouding his usually confident gaze.
“Colt, you can’t come with me. Daddy had a heart attack because he was stressed about us. Seeing you could hurt him more if he’s not gone already,” I say.
“Dee, I should be there with you for support.”
“No, you need to keep your fans happy and keep going with the world tour. I’ll call you when I know what’s happening, okay?” I start toward the door, not giving him any option.
“Dee, you’re more important than the fucking band, the fans, or some stupid world tour. Let me come with you.” His voice is raw, pleading, but my head is a mess. Guilt claws at me, overwhelming and suffocating, and all I can think about is getting away.
From here, from him.
“No,” I snap, the words sharp, cutting. “I need to be with my family, and that doesn’t include you right now.”
The moment it leaves my lips, regret slams into me like a freight train.
But I don’t stop.
I don’t turn back.
I keep moving, striding out the door and down the hall, leaving him behind.
“Dee? Don’t you walk away from me. Dee! Okay, fine, I’ll get the band’s jet ready for you. Take the Hummer and Dee?” I stop at the elevator and look at him. “I need you. You’re going to come back, right?” he asks, standing in the hallway staring at me, his chest heaving and his eyes glassy.
The sight makes me want to run to him, but Daddy’s welfare is all I can think about right now, and the overwhelming feeling of having to be by his side. I turn, walk into an open elevator, and watch him as the doors close without saying a word.
A fresh wave of tears engulfs me.
I’m so mixed up.
I love Colt.
But if I caused Daddy’s heart attack…
Oh, God! I will never forgive myself.
***
The next few hours are a blur.
Somehow, I made it from Paris to London’s Wellington Hospital, and I have no idea how long or how I even got here. All I know is that I’m now dragging my luggage and running through to the emergency department. I race to the triage nurse’s counter, and she looks at me like I’m nothing.
“Rutherford Norman… h-heart attack… d-daughter,” I stutter, pointing to myself as I puff out of breath. She nods and checks her computer screen. I stand straight, trying to get some much-needed air into my lungs while holding on to my side because I have a stitch from all the running.
“Bay seven, but you’ll have to leave your luggage here. You can’t take that into emergency with you. I’m sorry,” she says, looking at me like I’m trash.
I look down. I’m wearing a black bra and a white tank top with my distressed jeans.
Wow! I do look particularly trashy.
I shift my luggage aside and leave it with her as she opens the emergency department’s sliding door, ushering me inside. My pulse pounds as I rush through the sterile hallways, frantically scanning for the right bay.
Then, I find it.
The curtain is drawn, a thin barrier between me and whatever awaits on the other side. My stomach tightens, fear clawing its way up my chest.
I’m too late.
He’s gone.
I suck in a shaky breath and slowly pull back the curtain, bracing myself for the worst.
And then—there he is.
Sitting up in the hospital bed, casually eating jelly like he doesn’t have a care in the damn world. A hospital gown drapes over him, wires undoubtedly stuck to his chest, but otherwise…
He looks perfectly fine.
Too fine.
Anger ignites, hot and sharp, burning away the fear.
This better not be some twisted ploy to get me home.
“Deliah, darling, come in,” Mummy chimes, sitting in a chair, reading a Jane Austin novel.
“Deliah, you look terrible. Come and hug your father,” Daddy says while I stand in utter bewilderment.
“Mummy, you said he had a heart attack. I thought he was dying. When the curtain was closed, I thought I’d walk in here to find your body covered in a white sheet. What the hell?” I say louder than expected.
“Deliah, calm down. The curtain is shut because the sun was shining in your father’s eyes through the window across the room. We thought it was a heart attack, but as it turns out, it is only severe heartburn. So no need to worry, darling, your father’s going to be just fine,” Mummy replies.
Right!
So, I blamed Colt like the selfish bitch I am and left him in Paris.
He doesn’t know if I’m coming back.
I flew here for no fucking reason.
If I thought the guilt over Daddy was heavy, the weight of how I left Colt crushes me completely.
It slams into my chest, stealing my breath, wrapping around me like a vice.
My legs give out, and I collapse into the chair, my body hollow, my heart splintering.
A broken sob rips from my throat as I bury my face in my hands, the regret suffocating, inescapable.
Oh my God!
Colt must hate me right now.
I know he needs me.
And especially after last night’s incident with Hux.
Mummy walks over and rests her hand on my back. “There, there, darling. Your father is fine. No need to be this upset,” she says.
And for the first time in my life, I want to slap her and not just a light tap, a full-blown, hard slap across her perfect face.
The curtain pulls back, and Joseph walks in with a newspaper.
Great!
“Deliah, you look—”
“What are you doing here?” I ask.