Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
River
Aspen pads down the stairs, her long, black hair still damp from the shower and her phone pressed to her ear.
“Cal . . .w-wait slow down. What do you mean?” her voice trembles as her expression shifts to confusion.
A frown tugs at my own brows, and I stand from the couch, mouthing: are you okay?
“Oh my god! Take Tucker back to mom’s right now! Yeah. I need to take care of her . . .”
I’m so busy worrying about the tears falling down Aspen’s face that it doesn’t register what’s being said on the TV until I hear, “. . . Sinclair Tower near Central Park, where we’ve received multiple reports of a hostage situation.”
My stomach drops. I whip around to face the TV, and stumble closer to the screen, hoping that I’ve heard wrong as the news anchor continues, “We’ve spoken to the New York City police chief, who has confirmed that a suspect in an ongoing investigation, Jaxon Martin, broke into the home of New York Blaze hockey player, Carter Graham, this morning.
This is considered a hostage situation. The police have reason to believe that Martin is armed and dangerous.
We . . . we are now receiving reports of multiple gunshots fired.
I repeat, there have been shots fired. The police are asking everyone to stay away from this area—”
The room tilts, and I lose my breath. Ringing fills my ears and drowns out everything else.
Please, God. No.
My chest caves, and before I know what’s happening, my knees hit the ground.
“River. River. Listen to me. We don’t know that Carter was shot. Okay? It could’ve been Jaxon. Look at me. Look at me. Good. That’s it. Eyes right here. Breathe . . . breathe. Stay tough for me, okay?”
I nod as a guttural sob rips from deep within my soul.
“Come on, River. We have to go.”
As Aspen links an arm in mine and hauls me up from the ground, my mind checks out.
I’m physically here, but my mind isn’t registering what’s going on around me.
It isn’t until I hear the song that Carter and I danced to at Aspen’s wedding reception, “Die with a Smile” by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga, that I realize we’re in the car.
I reach over and punch the mute button with my finger, then cover my face with my hands, and weep.
“God . . . P-Please . . . please don’t take him from me. I-I can’t live without him,” I choke out into my hands.
My heart hurts. It fucking hurts. I can’t catch my breath.
I hear Aspen sniff, then feel her hand rub up and down my back, but the comfort of her hand quickly leaves me when she answers a phone call.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Aspen. I heard what happened. I went ahead and postponed tonight's game and issued a crisis statement to the media.”
“Thanks, Teagan,” she says, her voice thick and laced in grief. “Handle whatever needs to be done. I need to take care of my sister right now.”
“Okay. I’ll let you go. Let River know I’m thinking about her.”
With my head still buried in my hands, I nod.
“She heard you. Thank you.”
“Let me know if you need anything. Bye,” Teagan whispers and ends the call.
I try to force air into my lungs, but my breaths are too short. Panic claws up my throat, and my heart feels like it’s being torn out of my body. This limbo of not knowing what’s going on with him is making me lose my damn mind.
Aspen pulls up to the double doors. I fling the car door open and take off running as fast as my feet will carry me. I skid to a stop, and my hand reaches out and clings onto a passing nurse’s arm.
“My husband is Carter Graham. Is he here?” My voice cracks.
She points me in the direction of a young woman sitting behind a thick glass with a little metal circle in the center. I race over to the window.
“I’m Carter Graham’s wife, River Graham.”
Her skeptical gaze scans me as I stand in front of her with tear-stained cheeks, messy hair, and in pajamas.
Aspen moves in behind me and says, “I’m Aspen Miles, the owner of the Blaze hockey team. This is Carter’s wife, River. My husband Callan Miles called and said the ambulance was bringing Carter here.”
The young woman’s frown relaxes, and she slips away from her station.
A few seconds later, I hear a beep, then the wooden door opens, and she strides over to us.
She looks around to see who’s listening before speaking low where we can barely hear her.
“Callan Miles is in the OR waiting room down the hall to the left. I’m sorry, I—”
Her voice trails off as I take off running down the hallway, looking through every open door on the left, until I see Cal, hunched over in a chair. As I enter the waiting area, his chin lifts and his red-rimmed eyes meet mine.
“They won’t tell me anything,” he chokes out, his shoulders shaking as tears roll down his cheeks.
“I’m going to go find someone who can fill us in,” Aspen’s strained voice calls out behind me right as a door in front of me opens and a doctor steps into the waiting area.
“The ER registration clerk informed me Mr. Graham’s wife was here.”
“I’m his wife.” I rush over to him.
“Hi. I’m Dr. Thatcher, the ER doctor,” he greets, shaking my hand.
“Mr. Graham was brought in by ambulance and taken directly into surgery upon arrival. I spoke to the EMT tending to him in the ambulance and was told the bullet entered through the right side of his chest and exited through his back. I don’t know much more than that, except due to the extensive loss of blood, he went into hypovolemic shock and the paramedics on the scene gave him blood on the way here.
In full transparency, they almost lost him on the way, and right now, he’s in critical condition.
I’ll let the surgeon know you’re waiting in here, and he’ll be in to talk with you shortly. ”
Aspen wraps me in her arms and thanks the doctor while I bury my face in her shoulder, begging and making trades with God or whatever higher power exists.
Over the next few minutes, all our close friends and family arrive.
There’s not an empty chair in the waiting room.
Not that I need one. I’m too nervous to even think about sitting down.
For the past couple of hours, I’ve been wearing out the tiled floor, pacing back and forth and waiting for someone to come in and give us some sort of update.
My stomach is in knots, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
The door opens, and a man in green scrubs steps into the room, swiveling his head as he looks around. I stride over to him.
“Mrs. Graham?”
My heart rate spikes. “Yes.”
“Hi. I’m Dr. Richards, Mr. Graham’s surgeon. The surgery was a success, and he’s in recovery right now.”
“Oh, thank God.” I breathe, placing a hand to my chest.
He continues. “We’ll be moving him to the ICU within the next hour and monitor him there for the next couple of days. Once we move him, you will be able to see him, but we’ll have to ask everyone else to leave until he’s in a regular room.”
“But he’s going to be okay?” Cal asks, taking a place at my side.
The doctor smiles as he looks around the room full of burly hockey players and says, “I expect him to make a full recovery.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” My voice cracks as tears spring to my eyes and spill over onto my cheeks.
He smiles and asks, “Do you have any questions for me?”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that. I can’t even think straight enough to formulate coherent questions right now,” I cry, shaking my head. “I’m just relieved.”
“Alright, then. I’ll be on my way. One of the nurses will come get you when he’s situated.”
I feel lighter, like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I can finally breathe again.
One by one, our friends and family filter out of the room.
“Give us a call if you need anything, kiddo,” Luke says, pulling me into a hug.
“I will.”
Luke releases me, and Katherine takes his place, holding me for a few long minutes, and squeezing me tight. “I love you, sweetheart. I’ll go call your momma and update her.”
“Thank you. I love you, too.”
I watch them walk out the door—Katherine already on the phone, dialing my mom—and take a seat in a chair across from Aspen.
“Y’all can go. I’ll be alright. Why don’t you go pick up Tucker and take him home? I’m sure he’s worried.”
“I’ve already called Tuck,” Cal says, leaning back and stretching out in his chair. “We’ll wait until the nurse comes to get you.”
There’s no arguing with that man, so I rest my elbow on the armrest, prop my head on my hand, and close my eyes.
I hear someone’s shoes scuff across the floor, and my eyes pop back open.
A man wearing navy dress pants and a white button up stands in the doorway, looking completely worn out. His eyes find mine.
“Mrs. Graham,” the man greets me.
Should I know him? He seems to know who I am. My eyes volley to Cal and then Aspen before settling back on him.
“Yes?”
“Detective Matthews. I’ve been working your case,” he says, taking a seat next to me. He releases a drawn-out sigh before asking, “How’s Carter?”
“They said he’ll make it. I didn’t think to ask what we can expect long-term. I was just happy to hear that he was alive.”
I pick at my nails, nervously, hoping like hell he’s here to tell me they have Jaxon in custody, and he’s given them enough to put him away for a long time. As in forever.
“That’s great news. I was worried we didn’t get there in time.”
He looks as though he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. With his elbows braced on his knees, he clasps his hands together, and lowers his head for a few seconds, then turns to look at me.
“Carter was on the phone with me when he walked into the apartment. Your husband is a smart man. A brave man. He was able to tip me off without alarming Mr. Martin. I was listening on the other end of the call the entire time, and I have to say, I’ve never seen anyone handle a situation like that as well as he did.
We tried to get to him before things escalated. I’m sorry we didn’t.”
He pauses, and worry gnaws at my gut as I wait for him to continue.
“I wanted to check in on you both, but I also wanted to let you know that I’ll be closing the case.”
My head jerks back. “What do you mean?”
“Several of my officers and I entered the apartment as the two men were scuffing, and before we could intervene, your husband . . . he . . . well, let’s just say Mr. Martin is dead.”
I think about what that means for me. My babies are safe. No more looking over my shoulder or running. No more fear. No more PIs and security guards. I’m free to live my life. Does it make me a bad person to be relieved to know that Jaxon is dead and can never hurt us or anyone else again?
“Good,” I say, looking him in the eyes when I say it.
He nods his head in understanding. “Tell Carter I’ll be in touch. I won’t be needing his statement since I heard everything, but I’ll stop by to check on him. I hear he’s a great hockey player, but I think he may be in the wrong profession.”
“I told him that very thing once.”
“Hey now. Don’t you two get any ideas and go trying to recruit my player,” Aspen cuts in with a finger pointed at him, then she points to herself. “He’s mine for the next year and a half.”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I think if you’d heard him in action, you would agree with us,” he counters, then offers a hand to me. “River, I wish you well.”
I place my hand in his. “Thanks. Same to you. We’ll see you around.”
The nurse comes in several minutes after the detective leaves and leads me to Carter’s room in the ICU.
I don’t know what I expected, but seeing him with all the tubes and machines hooked up to his body sends a jolt right through my system.
I don’t know what all those machines do, but seeing the lines go up and down and hearing the constant beeping of the heart monitor is proof this is real.
He’s alive, and that’s the only thing that matters to me right now.
Tears of relief trickle down my face. I cross the room, drag a chair next to his bed, then take his hand, and place a kiss on his knuckles.
“I love you,” I tell him, even though I doubt he can hear me. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of me.”
Exhaustion from the day overtakes me, so I lay my head down on the bed rail and close my eyes.
The steady rhythm of Carter’s heart lulls me to sleep.
I’m not sure how long I’m out before I feel my hair move out of my face, waking me up.
Carter’s hand caresses my cheek, and I turn my head, pressing a kiss to his rough palm before taking his hand in both of mine.
“I love you,” I tell him again.
He gives my hand three squeezes back, then closes his tired eyes.
As the hours blend into days, I watch as Carter’s body heals, and I realize it’s time that I do some healing of my own.
I think about the sacrifices he’s made for me and the ones that I need to start making for him.
How I need to put forth the effort we all deserve: to be a stronger version of myself.
I reflect on our time together and how he’s been pushing me forward, asking me to tell him one thing about myself. And it’s then that I realize that this entire time he’s been trying to help me to see that maybe my identity hasn’t been so lost after all.
I reflect on the woman I am and the one I want to be. The kind of wife and mother I want to be. So, when his parents and sister step into the room, I step out and make a call that is long past due. The phone rings a few times before she answers.
“Hi, Dr. Bailey. Do you have time in your schedule to meet me at the hospital?”