Chapter 33
Nicole
The hospital machines beeped rhythmically. I lay stretched out on the wide ER bed in a private room. Dylan and the kids hugged me clumsily. My leg was in a massive cast that ran from my foot all the way up to my thigh.
Broken.
Just like my swollen, crooked nose. The doctors said they’d have to wait a few days until the swelling went down. Surgery couldn’t be rushed—not if they wanted it done right. And they also said they had to get my blood pressure down again, or I’d run the risk of a stroke during surgery.
Brian grabbed my hand the second the kids let go. He still looked like Brian. Broad shoulders. Thick arms. That worn, rugged blue-collar look that came from years of physical work and a naturally handsome face. But he was pale now, eyes rimmed red, jaw clenched tight.
“God … Nicole …” was all he managed before he turned and quickly walked out.
I watched him step into the hallway, hands on his hips, staring down at the floor like he was trying to hold himself upright through sheer force of will.
“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Dylan asked quietly.
He stood tall next to the bed, holding Ethan’s hand. Ethan was wearing pajamas. Dylan was wearing a hoodie and worn sneakers. His hair fell into his eyes.
“They said they want to keep you overnight,” he added. “And I know you need your pillow to be able to sleep.”
I shook my head and gave him a soft smile. “No. I’ll be fine. Thank you, sweetie.”
“Can I draw on your cast?” Lila asked.
She was wearing mismatched socks and a pink sweatshirt that was inside out. Her eyes were big and wet.
“I can draw us,” she said. “All of us together. So you know we love you.”
“That would be wonderful, honey,” I said softly.
My gaze drifted back to the hallway.
Brian was standing there with Amanda, who had just returned from the cafeteria. Her blond hair fell perfectly around her shoulders. Almost glowing under the harsh hospital lights.
She handed Brian the coffee. He barely looked at it before setting it on a side table. For a moment, they just stood there, like two people waiting to see who would move first.
Amanda stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around him. Brian’s shoulders sagged instantly, and he pulled her into a tight hug. Much tighter than necessary.
Her hand pressed flat between his shoulder blades. She leaned in and murmured something into his ear.
He nodded.
The kids were saying something, but I didn’t hear a word of it. My eyes stayed on the hallway. Nothing about that scene said friends.
It said everything it shouldn’t.
God, I hated him in that moment.
While Lacey was rotting in a cell, this was what he was doing?
Of course he claimed the moment. Of course he made himself the one who needed comforting the most. Like he was the one dying of cancer.
Like he was the one who’d almost been murdered.
Or the one who almost lost his grandma after essentially losing his mother already.
And of course Amanda was right there, holding him like he was fragile. Like something beautiful that couldn’t be allowed to break.
But at least he was sober.
At least he was somewhat of a dad again.
Still, my hands started to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was anger, leftover adrenaline, or the slow, sick realization that nothing was ever going to be simple again.
“Grandma,” Dylan said.
“Huh?” I looked at him.
He flicked a quick glance at the kids. A warning. Not in front of them.
I smiled instantly.
“You know what,” I said lightly. “Dylan, why don’t you get us some coloring pens from the gift shop so we can all color my cast together? My credit card should be in my purse over there.”
“Yay!” Lila bounced. “I want to come!”
Dylan hesitated for just a second. Long enough to glance back toward the hallway at his dad. At Amanda.
He knew.
Then he reached for my purse, pulled out the credit card, and nodded. “Sure.”
“Can I come?” Lila asked again, hopeful. Probably already imagining a small toy along with the markers.
“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Ethan?”
Ethan shook his head and climbed carefully onto the bed beside me. His body curled in close like he’d done a thousand times before. Way past nap time.
He was burned out the way kids get when their parents keep failing them.
His eyes closed almost immediately.
I scratched his back the way I always did. Slow and familiar. His breathing evened out within seconds.
Dylan and Lila watched for a moment. Then they turned and walked toward the door.
“Be right back,” Dylan said.
Outside the room, he walked straight past his father. Lila grabbed his hand and followed along happily, oblivious in the way only a young kid could be.
Amanda and Brian loosened the hug when Dylan passed, and she looked straight at me like she’d only just remembered I existed.
Her face twisted into worry. She quickly stepped back, said something to Brian, then awkwardly placed the candy on the side table before leaving.
Her embarrassment didn’t make me feel better.
But what did it matter?
Lacey would be free again soon. She would step right back into that role of wife and mother. The one holding everything together for this loser. I would hate Brian for the rest of my life. Not even so much for the affair but for hurting the kids. For saying he thought Lacey had killed Zach.
But I would never say a word of it to Lacey.
She had made it clear long ago that there were no boundaries for him.
When she forgave him after he was caught with Amanda in that restaurant all those years back.
When she forgave the drinking. The relapses.
When she carried 95 percent of the work with the kids and around the house and listened to him with empathy when he complained about his 5 percent.
I loved my daughter and my grandchildren enough to accept her emotional dependence on him. As long as Brian kept it somewhat together.
What else could I do?
I didn’t have the power to make Lacey leave him. He’d cast a spell over women that not even the Almighty could undo.
My thoughts drifted to the next court date. I would meet with the lawyer again this week. And this time it would be different.
The man who killed Zach had come for me. Most likely Billy Dustin had told him I was poking around. Or maybe he’d seen me near that motel where he usually stayed. Either way, we had him.
And the joy of my daughter’s release would outweigh all of this.
But I had to be cautious. It would still be a battle with Harlow to get her out. I knew that.
But I let myself feel it anyway.
Hope.
Optimism.
Relief.
This nightmare might finally be ending.
And my daughter would finally be free. Not just from jail but from the world’s judgment.