Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
“Baby boy, slow down,” I beg as I scramble up from my bed where I’d been falling asleep until my phone rang. I saw the pictures Mackie sent earlier of him and Noah, and I already printed and framed them. I didn’t expect to hear from him until morning.
“Conan, he’s hurt. It’s bad.” His voice is frantic, and the pure fear and terror in his tone has me yanking on my pants and shoes as I rush to the door, grabbing my keys.
“Baby boy, I need you to take a breath for me. Can you do that?” I ask as I shove out of the door, not even sure if I locked it, but all that matters is getting to him. “Tell me where you are.”
His sobbing voice disappears, replaced by a smoother, articulate one, though there is a slight quake to it. “Hello, Conan. You might not remember me. I’m Noah’s father.”
“I remember,” I mutter, confused as I rush down the stairs, not daring to take the elevator in case it cuts off the call. “What’s going on? Where’s Mackie?”
“He needs you. We are at the hospital.” His voice is tight, and the word “hospital” staggers me. I can’t breathe for a moment as flashbacks of the last time I was in a hospital fill my mind. I said goodbye to my first love, my husband, as I held his hand and watched him go.
“Is he okay?” I ask. “Is he okay?” I shout when he doesn’t answer.
“He’s upset, but he’s right . . . Noah is hurt.” His voice is a rasp, and my terror doesn’t lessen.
Fuck, I want to ask, but it isn’t the time. I just need to get to him. He needs me.
“Okay, I’ll be right there. Are you both somewhere safe?” I ask. I don’t care what his father thinks of us right now. He’s someone Mackie cares about, so I care too, and that means I need to know.
“We are in the waiting room. We’re . . . We’re safe.” I hear crying in the background again, and the sound splits my heart. “My wife . . . she passed out. She’s being treated, but I’ll stay with Mackie.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes. Can you put him back on?
” I request as I sprint through the front door.
When I reach my car, his voice connects automatically as I speed from the lot.
“Hi, baby boy.” I try to soften my voice as much as I can.
“I’m on my way, but I need you to breathe.
You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep crying like that. ”
“It’s my fault,” he whispers through his tears. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have followed her. She was aiming for me.” He cries harder, and I speed through a red light. I need to get to him. “Conan, what if I lose him?”
“You won’t. Noah is too stubborn for that, okay?
He’s in the best place he can be. Right now, he would want to make sure you’re okay, so you need to breathe for me,” I instruct as I take the next turn so fast, my car goes up on two wheels.
I manage to get it back under control, and in under five minutes, I’m abandoning it outside the entrance.
They can fucking tow it for all I care. Mackie needs me.
Dashing into the waiting room, I search frantically until I find him sitting next to Noah’s father, his hand clutched in his. Hanging up, I drop to my knees in front of him. “Baby boy,” I murmur. His head lifts, tears staining his beautiful face.
“Conan,” he murmurs before he flings himself at me. I grunt from the impact, but I wrap my arms around him. He buries his head in my neck as I rub his back and tighten my hold.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now. You’re okay,” I murmur, my heartbeat finally slowing. I’ve only ever felt fear like that once before, and that was the day I lost my husband. I never want to feel it again.
I sit in the chair he vacated, holding him in my arms as I look at Noah’s dad. His eyes are glistening, but it’s clear he’s trying to be strong. It’s his son who is hurt, however, and I know he loves him, so I grab his hand, and his eyes snap to mine. “Can you tell me what happened?” I ask.
He looks at my hand then to Mackie before swallowing.
“Amanda, the woman we tried to get him to marry, attacked him.” His eyes land on Mackie.
“Well, Mackie. Noah got there in time and took the blow instead. The bottle hit the back of his head and knocked him out. He lost a lot of blood. They said there was a contusion, and he was going for a scan. They seemed worried though, and we haven’t heard anything since.
They said the scan would take five minutes and it’s been thirty.
I don’t know what’s happening, and my wife .
. . she passed out. She just fainted, and I—”
“Okay, okay.” Squeezing his hand, I kiss Mackie’s head, relieved he’s okay and that Noah was there—a selfish thought, but true. Noah and I would agree we would rather die than have a single hair on Mackie’s head harmed. “Let me go see if there are any updates, okay?”
He nods, looking lost and utterly frozen in shock. I can’t blame him. His kid is in the hospital, as is his wife. Rubbing Mackie’s back, I pull his head up so I can see him. “Baby boy, I need to talk to the doctor, okay? Can you stay here?”
He whines in fear, clutching at me before his eyes close, and he nods. Sliding from my lap, he takes Noah’s dad’s hand again, and when I’m sure he’s okay, I stand and walk to the desk.
“Hi, I’m with Mr. Fletcher, Noah’s father. Noah was brought in thirty minutes ago with a head wound, and I just wondered if there was an update?” I ask as politely as I can, knowing nurses are overworked and understaffed.
“Oh, let me check.” She shoots me a smile, her eyes going to Mackie and Noah’s father before she turns to her computer and types.
Within seconds, her smile drops, and she looks from me to the screen before forcing another smile, but it’s tight and not real.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” Standing, she hurries to the phone.
I try to listen, but at this distance, there isn’t much I can hear.
A couple minutes later, she returns.
“Okay, I can’t say much, but he had to go for more tests. We are just waiting for the specialist.”
“The specialist? Why?” I ask.
Is it that bad?
“I can’t say. I’m sorry. He should be able to have visitors very soon. Mrs. Fletcher is in recovery. She will be okay. We are keeping an eye on her, but she will be fine after getting some fluids. It was just shock. Take a seat, and I’ll make sure the doctor comes out shortly.”
Nodding, I head back to Mackie and Noah’s father and crouch before them. “He’s still being seen. There isn’t any news yet. Your wife is okay. She’s being kept for observation right now, but they aren’t worried.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, tightening his hold on Mackie. “I was going to ask, but I—”
“It’s okay. In times like these, you need help. It’s understandable.” I wipe Mackie’s cheeks and smile. “He’s going to be okay.”
“How do you know?” he whispers.
“Noah? Have you met him? There’s nothing in this world that could stop him from coming to you, so stop crying or he’ll only nag when he sees you.”
Mackie smiles sadly, and I stand and look around, finding what I need. I grab two coffees and bring them back.
“Drink,” I order them. “The heat and sugar will help with the shakiness and shock.”
“You’re good at this,” Noah’s father murmurs.
“I was in your shoes once,” I admit. “I just sat in the waiting room numbly for hours, holding a cold cup of coffee, wishing I had someone with me to tell me what to do.”
His father nods, looking down at the coffee. “I wish there were something I could do. All the money I have, the connections, they mean nothing right now. I can’t make this better for him.”
“But you’re here,” I say. “That’s what he needs right now. Have the police spoken to you?”
“Not yet. They were taking statements at the party and looking at footage. They said they would find us later, once Noah was awake and could talk,” Mackie explains, his voice shaky.
“Drink now, baby,” I order before I blow on it. “Please, okay?”
He nods and takes a sip, and I sit on the floor, not wanting to be farther away from him. We lapse into silence, all of us waiting for news on Noah.
I have a horrible feeling in my gut, though, that won’t go away.
The update comes two hours later. A doctor calls out Noah’s full name, and we swiftly stand. He walks our way, looking between us. “Mr. Fletcher?” he asks, and Noah’s father nods. “And you are?”
“Mackie,” he says, clutching my hand. “Is Noah okay?”
“Are you family?” the doctor asks Mackie.
Mackie hesitates, but Noah’s father steps closer. “He is. He’s family. How is my son?”
“And you are?” He looks at me.
“Also family,” Noah’s dad snaps. “Please, how is my son?”
“He’s stable and awake. He has a severe concussion and laceration to his head. We want him here for at least two days so we can monitor him. We are still waiting to hear back from the specialist, but in the meantime, you can see him. I’m afraid only two visitors are allowed though.”
“Son, I own this wing of the hospital. I will damn well take as many visitors as I want to see my son with how much money I’ve given.
Now show me the way.” Noah’s father says it politely but with no room for argument, and it’s clear the doctor knew that was coming.
He sighs as he leads us into the back. We head up a couple of floors to the VIP wing, and yes, I see Noah’s last name on it, which shocks me, but I guess it shouldn’t.
At the very end, a sliding door opens to reveal Noah’s room.
It’s nicer than any hospital room I’ve ever been in, more like a hotel, with a large bed, thick sheets and blankets, and low lighting.
There’s a huge TV, fridge, a bathroom, and a wide couch and chairs facing a small table.
Four leather chairs are placed around the bed, which holds Noah.
He’s sitting up, and when his eyes land on us and he sees Mackie, he seems to slump in relief.
Mackie clutches my hand, a noise leaving his throat.
Noah smiles. “What? Not even a hug? That’s mean.”
With a cry, Mackie flings himself onto the bed, and Noah grunts but smiles as he wraps his arms around him. I let them have their moment, as does his father. I hear them whispering back and forth, but I don’t eavesdrop.
Eventually, Noah asks, “Dad, are you okay?”
His dad approaches, so I linger near the door, but Noah looks at me. “Conan, thanks for looking after them.”
“Always,” I reply as I tread closer. “How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts like a son of a bitch, but I’ll live.” He winces as he looks at his dad. “Sorry about spoiling your party.”
“You spoiled nothing,” he says as he holds his son’s hand. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Noah smiles, looking down at Mackie, who’s buried against his side. “Baby?”
“I’m mad at you,” Mackie mutters as he lifts his head, tears once more in his eyes.
“Mad at me? Why?” Noah’s eyes widen in shock.
“How dare you put yourself in harm’s way like that!
” Mackie scolds, and it’s clear all his fear is now coming out.
“It was stupid and reckless. Do you know how scared I was? I couldn’t carry you.
I tried, but you were too big. I couldn’t even get help.
Don’t you ever do that to me again!” A small smile grows on Noah’s lips until Mackie stops with a huff. “Don’t you fucking smile at me.”
“You’re so cute.” Noah sighs as he leans back. “I love you, Mackie. I’m sorry I scared you, but if you think for one second I wouldn’t jump in again, you’re wrong. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
Mackie deflates. “I love you too, you asshole.”
Noah laughs, but it ends on a groan as he winces and lifts his hand to his head. “Amanda?” he asks.
“We will take care of it. You just rest,” Noah’s dad murmurs.
“Okay, you’re staying, right?” He looks between Mackie and his dad.
“Of course, we wouldn’t go anywhere,” Mackie replies. “Like you could even get rid of us.”
For a moment, his eyes land on me. “Can you stay too and look after Mackie while I’m out?”
“Of course.”
“I’m a grown ass man. I can look after myself,” Mackie protests, but then he looks at me. “Please stay.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” I promise as I lay my hand on his shoulder.