Chapter 4
Mason
I reached the stage just as Mom let out a startled cry, trying to catch Sutton. They both dropped to the floor, Mom breaking the worst of their fall. Thankfully, they weren’t too far from the floor since they were both on their knees, but the crash was loud in the eerily quiet auditorium.
Neil, Mom’s bodyguard, was already there to assist her. I rushed forward, panic chasing me as I sprinted toward the group encircling my mom and Sutton. Pushing a guy with his phone out recording, I shouldered a path to them.
“EMTs are here,” someone announced. “Is she still breathing?”
“Yes, and her pulse is steady,” Mom answered. “Can we get some room here, people? This isn’t a circus act. She’s injured and needs medical attention.”
“Everyone get back,” Neil’s voice boomed, causing most of the crowd to flinch and automatically respond as directed. “Get that camera out of my face. This event is over.”
“Hey!” a high feminine voice whined. “You don’t have the authority to end—”
“Move, now!” I thundered, causing more people to scatter so I could finally reach Mom.
She was able to roll out from under Sutton and was now leaning over her. With a gentle pat to the cheek, Mom attempted to rouse her. “Open your eyes for me, Sutton. Help is on its way. You’re going to be okay. You’ll be okay.”
I heard choked emotion in Mom’s voice, as if she was trying to reassure herself almost as much as she was the girl on the floor.
“What can I do?” I asked, dropping down beside them.
“I think she’s in shock. There’s not a lot of blood, but the piece that pierced her is fairly long. All we can do is wait for the paramedics.”
A soft moan came from the girl, and she blinked a few times before opening her eyes fully. Only to quickly scrunch them shut again. “What is happening?”
“You fainted,” Mom informed her.
“Crap,” Sutton muttered, her brow crinkling. “I should have eaten earlier.”
“Do you have a history of low blood sugar?” Mom asked.
“Kind of,” Sutton said with a sigh, keeping her eyes shut.
“That explains exactly nothing,” I grumbled, brushing a few strands of hair that had escaped her braid back from her face. “It’s a yes or a no, beautiful girl.”
Her lashes flickered, lifting quickly, and she frowned right at me, only to snap her eyes shut again before I could see what color they were. “Sometimes I forget to eat.” Her chin trembled before she locked her jaw and swallowed hard. “More so recently than…before.”
“Oh, Sutton,” Mom whispered, sounding like her heart was breaking.
Frustration and something else crawled through me. I didn’t like the thought of her not eating. If she forgot so easily, she needed someone to remind her.
Me.
Shoving that thought aside for the moment, I focused on the two men in uniform who came rushing onto the stage, one carrying what looked like a gym bag on one shoulder. Dropping it beside me, he started asking questions as he and his partner began assessing.
“Hey, Sutton. I’m Trent. My partner, Martin, and I are going to be taking care of you. What happened that resulted in you being on the floor, darlin’?”
“I fell,” she said with a heavy exhale.
“She was tripped,” Mom amended. “On purpose.”
I’d seen Sutton stumble, and I wasn’t sure what had happened after that because I’d taken off running, the overwhelming need to get to her pushing me.
Finding both her and Mom on the stage floor surrounded by people while Neil tried to contain the crowd had only spiked my urgency to get to her higher.
“I fell and landed on my cello,” Sutton continued, tears filling and leaking from her eyes. “I broke it. It’s ruined.”
“We’ll have the cello repaired, sweetheart,” Mom assured her. “Don’t worry about it right now. We need to focus on you.”
Sutton didn’t reply, her next breath coming out choppy, full of suppressed emotions that caused her lips to tremble before she locked her jaw.
Her pain was close to the surface, not all of it necessarily physical trauma.
Heartbreak was stamped on her, and I wanted to ease it. Make it better. Heal what was broken.
Which was definitely the cello. It was in two pieces, held together by nothing more than the strings.
No—three pieces, I realized, noticing the shard that had pierced her a few inches from her pelvic bone.
Damn, that must hurt like a bitch. I had to suck in a breath, centering myself so I didn’t react impulsively.
My first instinct was to remove what was causing her pain, which could potentially harm her more.
Tearing my eyes from the shard, I focused back on her face.
Up close, I soaked in all her beauty, memorizing her face, the little flare at the tip of her nose, the single dark mark near the corner of her mouth that wasn’t a freckle.
I lingered on the tiny imperfection that drew my attention to her lips over and over, no matter how hard I tried to look away.
They were so ripe, and I kept wondering if they would be sweet like a strawberry or a watermelon.
I wanted to know—fucking needed that knowledge.
Mom glanced at Trent and then Martin, both of them in their mid-to-late thirties, wearing silicone wedding bands on their left hands.
They had a world-weary aura going on, as if they had seen some bad shit and were prepared for anything.
“The cello broke, and a piece obviously pierced her abdomen. She also passed out a few moments ago. But she didn’t hit her head.
I am concerned that her blood sugar is low, however. ”
Both men nodded along as they listened to Mom. She was always the steady one when it came to emergencies. Having a best friend who was a nurse had trained her to keep a cool head when things got messy. Dad, on the other hand, would have already been spewing his guts out at the first sight of blood.
Martin strapped a blood pressure cuff around Sutton’s arm and then put a pulse-ox monitor on her index finger. While he checked her vitals, Trent was busy getting a sample of Sutton’s blood from her other hand to check her glucose levels.
The crowd had scattered, but now they were gathering around once again, and the numbers kept growing. People spoke in low murmurs, cameras still aimed on Sutton. Fucking vultures. Neil kept them back a few yards, giving the EMTs plenty of room to do their job.
“BP 109/62. Pulse is steady at 85. O2 is at 98,” Martin told his partner, who was waiting for the glucose monitor to give a reading.
“Sutton, your blood sugar level is sixty-one milligrams per deciliter. Do you have a history of hypoglycemia?”
“I just forgot to eat. It’s fine. I’m fine.” She shifted her legs, grimacing and grabbing her side.
“Don’t try to extract it,” Trent warned. “The doctor will do that at the hospital.”
She huffed, dropping her hand away from her injury.
“On a scale of zero to ten, zero being no pain and ten being the worst, what would you rate how you feel right now?” Martin asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe a six?”
“Your blood sugar level is really concerning, though, hon.” Trent was digging through his bag, grabbing gauze, a vial of something, and a syringe. “Do you remember when you last ate? Because this could be something more—”
“It’s really not that big of a deal,” she argued. Her pale cheeks filled with a pretty pink color that I couldn’t look away from. “Like I said, I simply forgot to eat.”
“And when was the last time you did eat?” Martin asked, rephrasing the question as he pulled a notebook from his pocket and clicked his pen, jotting down her vitals and waiting for her answer.
“Um…” Her face was almost glowing, going from pink to red. “I don’t know. Maybe…yester…day…”
“Maybe?” I growled at the same time Mom gasped the question.
Martin made a double click of his pen before jotting down the information.
“What the fuck is this maybe bullshit?” I demanded, not realizing how harsh my voice was until I saw her flinch.
“Yeah, maybe. I forget. It happens. Fuck,” she snipped and finally gave me her eyes.
They were on fire, annoyance mixed with so many other things. I got lost in the caramel brown, helplessly drowning in them.
“You don’t have to make it a whole thing. It wasn’t on purpose. And why is it any of your business?” she complained with another cute huff. “I don’t even know your frigging name. Are you a doctor? If not, then shut the hell up. Stand there and look pretty. Christ.”
Mom snickered but made the introductions. “Sutton, this is my son, Mason, who is definitely not in the medical field. Honestly, it was a relief to his father when he emphatically declared he would never be a doctor. My husband has an extreme aversion to blood.”
“No offense, Harper, but your son is kind of an a-hole.” Sutton side-eyed me. “I mean, I just met you, and you seem very sweet. Kinda bummed your offspring didn’t inherit that from you.”
“Finally! An actual breathing human who doesn’t fangirl at the sight of his dreamy blue-gray eyes.
I love it!” Mom laughed out loud then bent closer to Sutton, lowering her voice.
“Which he got from his father, by the way. My guys are so handsome. His dad is who he gets his attitude from too, by the way. Majority of it anyway.”
“Umph,” Sutton responded noncommittally then cursed. “Warn a girl before you go stabbing her with needles!”
I shifted my gaze to find Trent working on her arm. “Almost done. And the IV is in. We’re gonna get you locked and loaded for transport. Would you like anyone to ride along with us?”
“I’m going,” Mom and I said in unison, causing Sutton to snort.
“You win one little talent show, and suddenly, you’re getting fought over by complete strangers. Fun times,” she snarked and then frowned. “Hey, Trent, did you give me painkillers?”
Trent’s eyes narrowed on us. “It is the patient’s choice. And yes, darlin’, I did. Remember when I asked if you’re allergic to anything?”
“Nope.” She popped the p with extra enthusiasm, making me fight a laugh.
Beautiful and adorable. But I didn’t remember anyone asking about allergies either.
I had been too enthralled with her to hear his questions or the whispers from all the onlookers who were still gathered round, being held at bay by Neil and the school’s lackluster security.
Obviously, the new headmaster didn’t take safety into account like mine had more than a decade before.
I spotted the man standing just offstage, having a heated conversation with the woman I’d been sitting beside earlier.
Jasmine? Jacklyn? Fuck it. I couldn’t remember and didn’t care enough to find out.
Annoying was the only adjective I needed to know, and that was plenty.
“I am going with her,” Mom said firmly, cutting off any further argument.
Seeing the relief that washed over Sutton’s face, I relented. “Neil and I will follow you.”