CHAPTER 25
Eric
Five hours. Five fucking hours we have been here, and the only information that they can give us is that he is still in surgery. Why is it taking so long? Is he okay? I’m going out of my mind; pacing back and forth across the waiting room is the only thing keeping me from barging past the staff and running into the operating room to check for myself. My eyes keep darting between the entrance doors—in the hope that Jordan's parents arrive to get an update—and the main hospital door that I keep seeing nurses and doctors coming out of. It’s a long shot, but if the surgeon comes out asking for Jordan’s family, maybe I can tell him we are married. I am not above lying right now.
“I’m looking for Jordan Bell’s family.” A doctor dressed head-to-toe in blue scrubs has suddenly appeared. He looks as tired and stressed as I feel.
Everybody raises to their feet, but I reach him first.
“Are any of you a relative?” The doctor raises his voice so that everyone behind me can hear him.
Pete starts to speak first. “We are the closest thing to family that he has in this state. His parents are on the way. Can you not give us anything?”
Pete’s begging falls on deaf ears as the doctor shakes his head, repeating the same policy that the nurse behind the desk has told me multiple times already.
Funny thing is that if it was any of my clients or even friends, I would be the first to tell them that there is no point in fighting this. That’s the policy, and they stick to it strictly for a reason. Not everybody can be trusted, and for all this doctor knows, it was one of us who shot him. Rational thinking goes out the window, however, when it's somebody you love being kept from you. Right now, I don’t give a fuck about the stupid policy or what he may or may not think I have done.
“He’s my partner,” I burst out, looking
the doctor in the eyes. “Can you please just tell me if he is going to make it?”
“I am sorry, Sir. I can only release medical information to the next of kin listed on his file.”
My blood starts roaring in my ears. Does this guy have no fucking heart? “I don’t want his personal fucking information, I already know it. I just want to know if my boyfriend is alive!” I hadn’t realised how loud my voice had gotten until I could feel the guys pulling me away and apologizing to the doctor on my behalf.
“You need to calm down, Eric. You’re gonna end up getting kicked out, and then what will you do?” Drew whispers.
“I don’t give a fuck, I need to kn…”
“We’re here. We’re here, where is my son?”
I turn around and find myself staring into Jordan’s mesmerizing eyes set into a heart-shaped face. His mom is so beautiful. I’ve seen pictures of both of them around Jordan’s apartment, but none of them did her justice. She looks kind, yet fierce at the same time. Just like my Lashes. All five feet of her struts up to the doctor, quickly followed by her husband, who overshadows her by at least a foot.
“Well, Doc? Where is my boy?” Jordan’s father asks, which seems to have snapped the flustered-looking doctor back to reality. I suppose it must be intimidating having this many big tattooed men crowding your space.
The doctor clears his throat and turns to address Mr and Mrs Bell. “I would prefer to have this conversation in private, but if you are okay discussing this here” — Jordan's mom nods, flicking her hand to hurry him along — “your son was admitted with a GSR to the upper torso. With no exit wound, we rushed Jordan to the OR to remove the bullet. Thankfully, it had lodged in his clavicle. If it had been further to the left, we might be having a different conversation. Your son is very lucky. We were able to remove the bullet without leaving any fragments, and have repositioned the bone for clean healing. Jordan is currently still under anesthetic, but he should be out of Recovery shortly. I’m afraid I can only let two visitors at a time in to see him when he gets to the ward. A nurse will be back to escort you as soon as that happens.” He finishes with a bow and steps back.
Slowly, I let go of the air I was holding the entire time the doctor was speaking. Couldn’t he have led with the fact Jordan was okay? My body folds over as a loud sob escapes my throat. Pure and utter relief. I feel a small delicate hand brush over my back, remaining there till my breath calms and I stand up again.
His mom takes my hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. “He’s going to be okay, Eric. How about we give you a few minutes to splash some water over your face and pull yourself together. You do not want this to be what Jordan sees as soon as he opens his eyes, do you?”
I laugh. I actually fucking laugh, and it probably sounds manic, but fuck. He’s okay. And his mom just insulted me for my own good.
“Jesus, give the guy a break, Beverly,” Jordan's father says as he steps up to his wife's side. Clearly he’s used to Beverly and Jordan’s unique version of love language. “I’ll go tell the admin that the big guy here is welcome to visit when we’re not around.”
I look up at this man I have never met before, down to his wife and back up again. I don’t think there are even words to describe how grateful I am right now. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I say hurriedly as I wipe the tears from my cheeks. I feel like a child coming down from a tantrum.
“No need for all that, go clean yourself up,” says Beverly. “We will go back and sit with Jordan and have a nurse escort you and Peter down there. We can all take turns to visit with him.” She looks over at Pete, who throws himself at her, wiping his wet face all over her cardigan as they embrace. I can see tears pricking at the corner of Beverly's eyes, but she holds steady, refusing to let them fall right now. She is determined to stay strong for her boy.
Not wanting to waste another moment, I rush to the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. Beverly was right. I do look like shit. I can already hear what Jordan would say if he saw me like this. “Grim reaper, much?” I smile to myself as I splash some water over my face and try to tame my hair from the hours I’ve spent running my hands through it. There isn’t much I can do about the outfit. It was the only thing that Drew and Ryan could find at a late-night Target. Sweatpants and Iron Man T-shirts will have to do. In fact, if this outfit makes Jordan laugh, all the better.
The bathroom door pushes open and Pete’s head pops in. “Come on, let's go. They’ve taken him to the ward now.” He doesn't need to say another word as I rush out the door behind him.
Reaching Jordan's room, we follow the nurse inside. I’m breathing deeply to prepare myself for what he is going to look like. The blinds are pulled and the only light source is a dimmed lamp at the side of the bed. Beverly and Christopher Bell are sitting either side of their son on cushioned visitor chairs. My heart pounds hard as I step forward and grip the rail at the end of his hospital bed.
Sucking in a sharp breath, my eyes finally land on my Lashes. Once again, he looks like he is sleeping peacefully. Except this time, he has an oxygen mask over his mouth and wires seeming to come out of everywhere. The large bandage over the right side of his chest and shoulder is a stark reminder of how close he came to death.
“I will give you a few minutes, then I will need two of you to wait outside.” The nurse speaks in a quiet tone so as not to wake Jordan. I appreciate her letting us have a few moments. We all nod in acknowledgement, then turn back to Jordan. I force a soft smile as Beverly reaches over and takes my hand.
“Why don't you bring a chair over and wait with us? I’ll shoo that nurse away if she comes back again.”
Christopher drops a chair down softly beside his wife and motions for me to sit down.
“Thank you both. This is not the way I would have wanted to meet you for the first time,” I whisper, keeping my eyes glued to Jordan’s face just in case he so much as blinks. I don’t want to miss anything.
“Well, as much as I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, it is still wonderful to finally meet the man who has stolen my baby’s heart.” Beverly smiles, squeezing my hand.
“I don’t know about that, but I am working on it. Your son is incredible.”
“Pft, I know my boy and he is head over tits for you. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”
“I hope you are right, because I’m definitely head over tits for him.” In the quiet room, my admission sounds so loud, even to my own ears.
“Eww, why are you being so gross? Wait, are you wearing an Iron Man shirt?”
The croak of Jordan’s voice has me jumping to my feet and leaning over the bed to make sure that I wasn’t just hearing things.
“Jesus Christ, Lashes! You scared the shit out of me,” I whisper, a laugh busting from my lips as I lean down and kiss his forehead. Taking the oxygen mask out of his hand, I rest it on the bed beside him so it's within easy reach.
“You're leaking all over me, Dimples. I’m not sure I like this side of you.” He hasn’t lost his snark, then. That’s a good sign.
“I’ll make you a deal—you don’t get shot again and I won't have to leak over your hospital bed.”
“Deal.” He grins softly, moving his hand into mine. He slowly turns his head to see his mom, then back to the other side to see his dad and Pete. His voice turns to a whisper as he tugs me lightly to bring me closer.
“Please tell me I am hallucinating and my parents aren’t actually here.”
“Hush, you brat. Of course we are here, you got shot!” Beverly retorts. She leans in a little closer. “Now, be honest, we won't judge you. Have you joined a gang? Was this some kind of retaliation? Is there a king pin your father and I need to have a word with?”
Both Jordan and I stare at her, wide-eyed. For a moment I think she’s joking, but no, she's very serious. I lose it then. I need to step back to hold my stomach from laughing so hard.
“For fuck’s sake, Ma! No, I didn’t join a gang. Why is that the first place your mind goes?” The tone of his voice rises into soprano territory as he jerks up, causing him to wince and lay straight back down again.
Beverly is clearly not fazed by Jordan’s dramatic outburst, and she merely shrugs.“Well, you hear all sorts of things. Better to be direct. If it’s not a gang attack, then how did you end up shot?” She asks this as if it was the only conclusion possible.
I have asked myself the same question over the last five hours. Pete was the first one outside, but he didn't see anything. I was too fucked up to pay attention to what people where yelling about. The cops showed up to check on Jordan, but he was still in surgery at the time, and of course they wouldn't tell us anything. They took what little statements we had, and said they would be back tomorrow. I probably could have pulled the attorney card, but without Jordan’s permission to represent him, it would only cause problems down the line. And besides all this, I had better things to worry about at the time.
“Wait—you don’t know who shot me? Shit, give me my phone! We can’t let that bastard get him.” Jordan tries to lift himself up on the bed, crying out in pain at every movement, but it isn't stopping him.
“What bastard? Who shot you, Jordan?” My voice is laced with renewed fear as I try to get him to calm down. He's going to burst his stitches. Fuck, none of us ever considered that whoever shot him would come back to try and finish off the job. I guess we just assumed it was a drive-by or something. How could we have been so stupid? Jordan was a target.
“Blakes’s brother! We need to make sure he hasn’t gotten Blake. Please, Eric.”
The fear in Jordan’s eyes is palpable as I step back, frantically searching my pockets for my phone. When Pete rushes past me, he grabs my arm, pausing only long enough to remind me that Roman is in the waiting room.
“Yes, Sunshine, get Roman to call Derek,” Jordan presses, laboring with every breath. “Or go find Blake and bring him here. Call the cops too.”
With Pete gone, Christopher takes a gentle hold of Jordan’s shoulder and guides him back down to the bed. “Okay, Son, you need to rest. You aren’t going to be able to do any good if you end up in surgery again.”
The door suddenly swings open and the doctor from earlier swans in. The wide, friendly smile on his face falters when he realises nobody else in the room is smiling back at him.