Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A round 3:30 p.m., I stepped into Emmett's hospital room with Walker. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sickly green tinge across Emmett's face. Antiseptic burned in my nostrils, mingling with the metallic undertone of blood. The linoleum squeaked beneath my shoes, each step echoing in the too-quiet room.
"Nick." Emmett's good hand clutched the hospital blanket, his eyes darting between me and Walker.
I was thankful he was okay and that I didn't have to go back to Florida and tell Olivia he was dead. But I was going to have to say something soon. Especially now that Emmett appeared to be missing a hand.
"What happened?" My fingers dug into the metal rail of his bed.
"Nick." His voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes.
"No, Emmett." I paced to the window, then whirled back. "What the fuck happened? Did you not pay off your debt? You didn't check into rehab."
He chewed the inside of his cheek, gaze fixed on the bandaged stump where his right hand should have been. "I had more debt than I admitted to. I don't owe one person; I owe lots of people."
My eyes rolled toward the ceiling's fluorescent lights, but I gestured for him to continue, the antiseptic smell burning stronger with each passing moment.
"I thought I could use that money to make more." His voice dropped to a whisper, like a child confessing to breaking a window. "You know enough to pay off everyone."
"I'm going to guess by your current situation that it didn't work out as planned."
"No." He hung his head.
"How much?" I growled.
"It's a lot because of all the interest."
"How fucking much, Emmett? The amount for all of it."
"Honestly, I'm not sure," he said. "It's probably close to a million between all three borrowers."
"A million." The number hung in the stale hospital air. "You think?" I turned to Walker, finding my own disbelief mirrored in the tight set of his jaw and narrowed eyes.
"You have two options, Emmett." My fingers drummed against the metal bedrail, each tap marking the words like a countdown. "You can leave with me when you're discharged and go to Florida, where I will personally check you into rehab, and I will pay off all your debt." I drew in a breath that tasted of antiseptic and desperation. "Or I will walk out of here and never look back. You'll never see Olivia or me again. You're on your own." The ultimatum felt like acid on my tongue.
I didn't want it to be this way. I wanted him to choose to leave with us and get help. I knew this would never end if I didn't draw a line now.
"I do not need rehab." Emmett's face flushed red, the heart monitor's beeping speeding up.
"Look at yourself." I swept my arm toward the hospital bed, the IV lines, the bandages. "You're missing a hand. All because you borrowed money you can't pay back."
"I can handle this." His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. "I just need a lucky hand."
"Make your decision, Emmett." My knuckles whitened on the bed rail. "Are you staying, or are you leaving with me?"
"After all my family did for you." Emmett's face twisted, teeth bared like a cornered animal. "You can't help me?"
"I want to help you." The words scraped raw in my throat. Each step toward his bed felt like wading through concrete, memories of childhood summers and friendship weighing down my feet.
Walker's shadow fell across the tiles beside mine—two dark shapes merged into one, just like we used to be, Emmett and I, before the gambling hollowed him out. My fingers found the bedrail, cold metal grounding me as I fought the urge to shake sense into him, to grab him by the shoulders and demand back the friend I'd lost.
"You don't want to help me; you want to control me." Spittle flew from Emmett's mouth as his voice rose to a scream. "GET OUT!"
"Emmett—" The words died in my throat as he rolled to face the wall, his hospital gown bunching around his shoulders like armor.
Each step toward the door felt like betrayal. Twenty years of friendship compressed into this moment, now walking away while he lay broken in a hospital bed.
The right choice and the easy choice had never been further apart. Still, my hand hesitated on the door handle. One word from him—just one genuine plea for help—and I'd turn back. The silence stretched, filled only by the steady beep of his heart monitor.
"You did the right thing," Walker tried to reassure me on the way back to the airport. I knew I did. I knew if I gave him the money again, this would never end. He would drain me like he did his sister. The feeling of dread churning in my stomach wasn't because I had to walk away from Emmett. It was because I had to figure out how to tell Olivia.
Coming back to New York wasn't an option for her, and I knew she would want to run back the minute I told her and I couldn’t let that happen. Telling her wasn’t an option.
By the time my plane touched down at 9:00 p.m., exhaustion had settled into my bones like rust. All I could think about was curling up with Olivia, letting her presence wash away the hospital's antiseptic memories.
But she was out on her date tonight—another knife twist in an already bleeding day. The neon signs of Shit Hole beckoned as I drove past, promising temporary amnesia in amber bottles. I needed something stronger than memories to get through this night.
Since I couldn't have Olivia, I needed a drink.
Thirty minutes later, I pulled up to Shit Hole . Justin's car was in the parking lot.
Stepping in, I searched the room for Justin, hoping to join him for a drink. When I found him, my heart sank. Olivia was here, as well as Hannah and Liam. Justin was her date. Trying to control the fire searing through me, I stepped to the table.
"Oh, hey, man." Justin's casual smile froze as our eyes met, his arm still draped around Olivia's shoulders.
The world narrowed to that single point of contact. Heat flooded my vision, tinting everything red. The background noise of the bar faded to a distant hum as my focus zeroed in on Justin's arm, so casually claiming what wasn't his.
My hands moved before my brain caught up. I crossed the sticky floor in three strides, fingers twisting in Justin's shirt fabric. The booth table rattled as I yanked him forward, glasses tipping, liquid splashing. Olivia gasped. Time slowed as my fist pulled back, then accelerated connecting with bone and flesh. The crack of contact shot through my knuckles with sick satisfaction.
"What the fuck, man?" Blood trickled from Justin's split lip, pooling before dripping onto his white shirt. Olivia's face had gone pale, her wide eyes darting between us.
"I said not her," I growled through gritted teeth, my chest heaving. The bar had gone quiet around us, faces turned to watch the drama unfold.
Hannah leaned down to help him up, and Olivia stared at me, handing him a napkin.
"They weren't here together." Hannah stepped between us, her blonde hair swinging with the force of her movement. "Her date ended early, and we came here, and they were already here." Her finger jabbed toward my chest. "He wasn't her date."
The fight drained from my muscles like water. Shame crept up my neck. Without looking at Olivia—I couldn't bear to see her expression—I pushed through the crowd toward the exit. The bass from the jukebox pounded in rhythm with my self-loathing. I was seriously losing it.
Pulling into my driveway, gravel crunching under my tires, my headlights carved Kathryn's silhouette from the darkness. She stood behind her car, arms crossed, the cooling engine ticking in the night air.
"How did you get through security?" The car door slammed behind me, echoing in the empty driveway. Kathryn's silence was expected but still irritating.
"Why did you hit Justin?" Moonlight caught the steel in her eyes, her crossed arms a barrier between us.
"Because I'm addicted to her." My shoulders sagged as I leaned against her car, the metal still warm from her drive over. "I'm in love with her." The words felt like gravel in my throat, rough and painful and true. "I don't want to share her. I want her to be mine." I ran my hand over my face. "And now I have to decide whether or not to tell her that her brother is a piece of shit."
"What happened?" Kathryn asked.
"Emmett chose to gamble over his sister. Over himself."
"Nick." Kathryn's stance softened, her hand hovering near my arm without touching. "You have to tell her."
"If I tell her, she'll want to go back, and that's not an option." My fist clenched at my side, Justin's blood still crusted on my knuckles.
"If you don't and she finds out, she may never forgive you." She shifted closer, her perfume cutting through the night air.
"I would rather her hate me forever than let her go back and be put in danger." The words tasted bitter, but the alternative—Olivia back in that world of gambling and violence—was unthinkable. "I didn't protect her then, but I can now. I will die before I let anything happen to her."
"Danger?" Kathryn's face twisted with confusion.
"Emmett's mixed up with bad people." The words came out like broken glass. "They chopped off his right hand. The fire that could have killed Olivia was because of him." My palm pressed against the cool metal of her car.
"She's not suspicious that she hasn't heard from him?" Kathryn's fingernails tapped against her crossed arms, a nervous rhythm in the dark.
"No." A bitter laugh escaped me. "Apparently, that's pretty normal in their relationship. He disappears a lot."
"What are you going to do?" Her voice softened, concern replacing judgment.
"I don't know." My head dropped back against the car window, the thud matching my pulse.
"I don't know either." Kathryn settled against the car beside me, her shoulder barely touching mine in the kind of silent support only old friends can offer. "Maybe wait a few weeks and see if he comes to his senses."
"I think he'll end up dead before then." The words fell into the darkness like stones into a pond, rippling through the quiet night. Above us, clouds drifted across the moon, casting shifting shadows across my bruised knuckles.