Eva
“You’ll wish we had by the time we’re done with you.”
Cole’s voice echoed in my dreams, mixing with the steady beep of machines until I couldn’t tell what was memory and what was nightmare. Strong hands held me down. Pain lanced through my chest.
I forced my eyes open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. Everything hurt. A sharp pain stabbed through my ribs with each breath, and something tugged at my hand when I tried to lift it.
“Where—?” The word caught in my throat, dry and rasping.
“Mount Sinai Regional,” Dad said, his familiar, calloused fingers wrapping around mine. Stubble darkened his jaw, and dark circles emphasized the pallor of his skin underneath the smattering of freckles that betrayed our Irish heritage. “You were in an accident on 95.”
The steady beep of monitors filled the silence as fragments of memory crashed through me. Snow. The flash of headlights. Screeching brakes. The semi crossing the median. The impact.
“Here.” Dad lifted a cup of water to my lips, positioning the straw carefully. “Small sips.”
The tepid water barely touched my thirst. I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my chest, stealing my breath. Every muscle screamed in protest.
“Easy,” he murmured, pressing a button that whirred to life, slowly raising the head of the bed. “The doctors said you need to stay still.”
My phones. My purse. Panic clawed up my throat as I remembered Jedediah Carter’s threats, my idiocy in quitting the team. How long had I been here? What if he’d tried to contact me?
The heart monitor’s steady beeping increased, drawing my father’s concerned gaze.
“Phone,” I croaked.
“Your stuff is right here.” He reached for my purse. “The paramedics grabbed it from the car, but the rest of your things…”
I didn’t care about my change of clothes, or my laptop, or anything else. Not when I’d put our lives in danger by quitting the team and cutting off Jedediah’s source of information.
My hands shook as I reached for my bag, sending fresh waves of pain through my chest. The movement dislodged the thin hospital gown, revealing a maze of wires connecting me to the monitors. Adhesive pads dotted my skin, tracking every beat of my artificial valve.
The valve that had cost my father everything.
The valve that had driven him to gambling.
The valve that had led me straight into Cole’s and Tristan’s arms and to my knees in Coach’s office.
I’d betrayed them. And my father. Christ, how much was my moment of defiance going to cost us?
My heart stuttered, and the monitor’s rhythm faltered.
“Eva?” Dad’s voice sharpened with worry. “Should I call the nurse?”
“I’m fine,” I lied, fighting to steady my breathing. “How long was I out?”
“They brought you in yesterday afternoon.” He squeezed my hand. “You scared the hell out of me, sunshine.”
I’d do anything for you, sunshine, he’d said after my surgery. And he had.
My vision blurred as tears threatened. The monitor’s rhythm picked up again, matching the rising tide of panic in my chest. How much would this hospital stay cost? How could we possibly afford it?
A soft knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts. A tiny nurse bustled in, radiating quiet authority.
“I’m Nurse Reyes,” she said, leaning toward the monitors. Her eyes narrowed at the readings. “How’s your pain level?”
I opened my mouth to lie, but she cut me off with a sharp look. “Scale of one to ten, and don’t try to be brave about it.”
“Eight,” I admitted. Everything hurt, inside and out.
She nodded and reached for my IV. “Let’s do something about that.”
As warmth spread through my veins, I caught my father watching me with haunted eyes.
The medication pulled at me, but I fought to stay awake. I had to figure out how to fix this, had to find a way to protect my father. Had to—
My purse buzzed. Shit, my phones.
Dad reached for it, but I snatched it first, ignoring the pain of the movement as I fished my phone out.
It shouldn’t have hurt so fucking much that Cole and Alek hadn’t texted me. I swiped messages away without reading them.
I slid my other phone out of my bag. No messages from Carter. I didn’t know whether to be terrified or relieved.
The monitor’s steady beep turned erratic.
“You should rest,” Dad said, his voice gentle. Too gentle. The same tone he’d used when he told me Mom wasn’t coming back. When he explained we had to sell the house. When he admitted the insurance hadn’t covered my second surgery.
“Eva!” Dad’s voice seemed to come from far away. “Breathe, sunshine. You need to breathe.”
My chest felt too tight, like someone had wrapped steel bands around my ribs and was slowly squeezing, and my vision narrowed into a tunnel.
“Blood pressure’s elevated,” Nurse Reyes murmured, checking monitors. “Heart rate unstable.” Her dark eyes fixed on my father. “Sir, I need you to step out for a moment.”
“No!” The word burst from me. “Please, Dad, don’t leave.”
“Please give me five minutes,” the nurse said, ushering my father out the door. The terrified look he gave me over his shoulder as he left me would haunt my dreams.
Nurse Reyes walked up to the side of my bed, her expression serious. “Eva, we will keep anyone out of this room if you need us to keep them out,” she said. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
My eyes shot to hers, and my heart thumped erratically. I took a deep breath, and then another, calming myself, allowing myself to believe in the illusion of safety.
“I need to ask you some questions,” she said, “and I need you to remain calm while I do it, or I’m going to have to call in the doctor.”
Thud. Thud. What kinds of questions? Did she know about Jedediah Carter? Irrational panic filled me.
“Are you safe at home?” she asked, arresting my spiral.
What?
My confusion must have shown on my face. “You have bruising all over your body that indicates assault and sexual trauma.”
Oh.
“Are you safe with your father? Would you like us to keep him out of your room?”
“No!” I said, almost shouting my refusal. “No,” I repeated more calmly. “It’s not from—” I stopped myself, ashamed. I’d let those men touch me, got on my knees and begged for it. “It’s not from him,” I finished at a whisper.
“Is there anyone else you’d like us to keep out?”
I shook my head.
“Kiddo,” she said quietly, “we can put security on your door if we have to.”
“Can you—” Why were the words so fucking hard to say? They blackmailed me. They degraded me. When I revealed my secrets, they’d doubled down.
And they weren’t here.
They were back in fucking Yorkfield, nursing their wounds from their losses, while I laid here accumulating more debt.
I hated them.
Didn’t I?
Enough. I raised my chin, pitiful as it may have been in a hospital bed, naked under my gown, beat up and surrounded by monitors. “Could you please keep everyone but my father out?”
Reyes raised an eyebrow. “Everyone but your father and hospital staff.”
Relief rushed through me, followed by an odd sense of disappointment I quickly quashed. “Thank you.”
The medication she’d administered a few moments before pulled me under, despite my desperate fight to stay awake.
Fragments of consciousness filtered through—Dad’s quiet murmur in the hallway, the squeak of nurses’ shoes on linoleum, the steady beep of monitors marking each beat of my borrowed time.
“Eva.” A male voice dragged me back to consciousness. Sunlight streamed through the window, painting golden stripes across my hospital bed. How long had I been out? “I’m Dr. Wentworth, the physician on call. We need to discuss your condition.”
I forced my eyes open. The room had filled while I dozed—Nurse Reyes, another doctor I didn’t recognize, my father looking more haggard than ever.
“Your heart rate remains unstable,” Wentworth continued. “The impact from the accident seems to have affected your artificial valve.”
The other doctor stepped forward. “I’m Dr. Nguyen, your cardiologist. We’re seeing some concerning patterns in your readings.”
More medical terminology washed over me—regurgitation, stenosis, words that blurred together until only phrases like “immediate intervention” and “possible complications” cut through the fog.
“The good news,” Dr. Nguyen said, “is that we can stabilize you. But you need to stay calm. No excitement. No stress.”
I scoffed, and he raised an eyebrow. “Miss Jackson—Eva—your heart is in bad shape. You’ve been inconsistent about taking your medication, and your father’s given us a picture of how busy your schedule has been this semester.”
I blinked back hot tears. What did they know about being busy? About the mad scramble that came with poverty and trying to keep a roof over our heads? About blackmail so cruel, I’d convinced myself I wanted it to protect myself from the horror?
Then, the guilt hit. He was right. Of course he was right.
He saw hundreds of patients, and he’d seen every excuse in the book.
This was my fault. I’d taken on too much.
I’d mistaken Cole’s and Tristan’s care for their toy for emotional security, and I’d thought I could balance all the fucking plates without dropping them.
The heart monitor sped up, and Dr. Nguyen twisted his lips with concern. “We can stabilize you and repair the valve with a procedure that’s less invasive than a full replacement,” he said. “But it’s going to require you to make some changes to your life.”
“It’ll be cheaper?” I asked, and the doctor couldn’t conceal the pity on his face.
“The insurance you have through your school will cover most of it,” he replied, “although not all.”
Right.
I couldn’t stop the tear that trickled down my face, nor the next, nor the deluge that followed. It didn’t matter. I had to get on my feet again, and I had to find a way to pay back Jed Carter for my father’s debt now that I’d quit the team.
If I couldn’t do that, then it didn’t matter how expensive my heart surgery was.
“Okay,” I whispered, my mind already whirling as I examined and discarded plans. “Let’s do it.”