Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The chirping of my alarm at five a.m. ends my brief sleep, but I want to have time to get some cardio in and shower before Wells and I meet to discuss our negotiations later this morning.
Wells recently bought a new place in Kensington, but it’s in shambles in the middle of a renovation, so instead of staying at the estate in inner London, we are staying in a few five-star suites, but I prefer a gated estate if I had the choice.
I mix my morning protein shake as I glance out at the still-dark street.
Someone else famous must be staying at this same hotel as the paparazzi vultures are already crowding the street.
I understand the media care about the personal lives of celebrities, but in my experience, it’s never enough and they always want more.
After my fair share of dating clout chasers in my younger years, I would rather not deal with the press at all, unless it’s something related to Lux.
I bet I could look up who they’re stalking, but I don’t really give a shit.
Plus, I’m exhausted.
I stayed up until Tinsley’s performance with Fiona last night at the Grammys was over, but that means I didn’t go to sleep until two a.m. local time. I’ll just have to make sure Jett keeps bringing me caffeine regardless of where we are today so I can function.
I want to be in New York so I can help Tinsley navigate the inevitable fall out today when she “breaks up” with Roman Cash.
She told me yesterday that she never wants to be in the same place as him ever again, and I will do my best to make that wish a reality.
I make my way to the private gym that’s exclusive to the suites on this floor and get started on my morning run.
I’m not even through my warmup when Wells bursts into the gym.
“Where the fuck is your phone?” Wells snaps at me and I jerk my head at his tone. His eyes are wide and panicked. Something has to be seriously fucking wrong for him to talk to me like that. I know my friend—and I’ve never seen him like this.
“What’s wrong? I left it in my suite until my run is done. What’s going on?” I hit the emergency stop on the treadmill and walk over to my friend who is tapping away at his phone. He thrusts the screen in my face as I read the red banner headline on The Spill’s website.
Developing Story … Roman Cash’s Vehicle Involved in High-Speed Crash
My blood turns cold as I look back at my panicked friend. “Who was in the accident?” My voice comes out harsher than I intended. Wells tears up and I don’t need him to answer. “I need my phone.” I rush out of the gym and run full speed down the hall to my suite with Wells on my heels.
“I’ve tried calling Tinsley and her phone goes straight to voicemail. I can’t reach Fiona. I can’t reach Thor.” Wells is spiraling.
“When does the article say this happened?”
“Twenty-five minutes ago.” Wells tries to clear his throat as I attempt to reach someone in New York. “There’s a photo of his Ferrari, and Jack, it’s … it’s fucking destroyed.”
“Don’t go there. We don’t know who was driving that car, if it even was his car, and we sure as hell don’t know that Tinsley was in the vehicle with him.
She hates him; why would she get in that asshole’s car?
” Please let that be true. I can’t fathom a future without Tinsley in it.
My phone finally rings and Thor’s name lights up my screen.
“Tell me she’s okay, Thor,” I bark as I put it on speaker.
“Mr. Callahan, I … I did everything I could. That punk was going way too fast and driving erratically all over the road while already speeding—it all happened so fast.”
“Thor, it’s Wells. Tell me what happened.”
“I stayed close during the entire evening, Mr. Sinclair. They were supposed to go from the Grammys to an after-party that was close to the event, but Roman turned the opposite direction and merged onto the interstate. He continued to accelerate, and my team stayed with him, but the car veered off the road and collided with a concrete barrier. We were first on the scene. One of my team members called 9-1-1 as I assessed the vehicle.”
“Thor, I appreciate the play-by-play but I need to know if Tinsley is alive.”
“She’s alive, sir, but it’s bad. She was in the front seat wearing her seatbelt, so that paired with the deployed airbags likely saved her life. Miss Skye was in the backseat but did not appear to have her seatbelt on.”
Wells interrupts, “Why was Fiona in the car with them?”
“I’m not sure of those details, but I got the impression before they left that Miss Skye did not want Miss Sinclair to ride alone with … him.”
“What did you find when you got on scene, Thor?” My voice is monotone and straight to the point. My Ice Man facade is struggling to take over so I can function and not freak the fuck out right now.
“Miss Sinclair was secure in the front seat. The front end of the car was destroyed by the impact, and glass and debris surrounded the vehicle. Smoke was coming from the vehicle, and I wasn’t sure if there was a risk of explosion, so I immediately checked the passengers, starting with Miss Sinclair.
She was unconscious but her pulse was strong, sir. ”
“And the others?” Wells asks.
“Miss Skye was still in the backseat, despite not wearing a seatbelt, but slumped over at an unnatural angle. She had a pulse but it was faint. And the driver was deceased upon impact, I’m assuming.”
“He didn’t have a pulse? Did you check?”
“I did check, sir. He did not have a pulse. He was still in the car but appeared to have not worn a seatbelt either. The driver was pinned tightly under the steering wheel and collapsed dashboard, but there was a small trail of blood from his nose, and his eyes were glazed over but open, sir. There were no life-saving measures to perform that would have been able to help him.”
“Then what happened?”
“We were about to pull them out of the car in case of fire risk when the EMTs arrived. They stabilized Miss Sinclair’s neck with a cervical collar and transported her via backboard to the ambulance.
Miss Skye was also stabilized and transported to the ER as well.
I have one of my teammates with Miss Skye, and I am outside the treatment bay where Miss Sinclair is being assessed by a team of medical professionals. ”
“We’ll be boarding the jet as soon as possible and flying in. I need to call … I don’t even fucking know who to call, Jack.” Wells is in complete shock.
“I’ll call Daphne,” I tell him as I grab his shoulder.
“Sir, with all due respect, I already sent Daphne a text while we were en route to the hospital. She should be arriving momentarily. With you and Mr. Sinclair in London, I followed protocol of emergency contacts.”
“Thanks, Thor. That was the right call. Please tell Daphne to call us as soon as she hears anything about Tinsley or Fiona.”
“Yes, sir. And if I hear any updates before her arrival, I will call you immediately.”
We disconnect from Thor as the silence hangs heavily in the room.
“She has to be okay, Jack. I … we should’ve gotten her out of that fucking contract with Roman Cash. I have to get to her, Jack,” Wells rambles while blinking away tears.
“I know, man. We both need to get to her, and she needs both of us. Go get your stuff. I’ll ring Jett and get things in motion. Go pack, don’t go on that fucking gossip site again, and let’s take this one step at a time and only make decisions on what we know, alright?”
Wells nods before he brings a fist to his mouth as a sob escapes him. I’ve never heard him make that noise in the twenty-four years we have been friends. I pull him into a hug, allowing him to break for a moment.
“You can fully break later, but right now, she needs us, Wells. Okay? We have to get to her.” He nods and sniffs as he wipes away his tears.
“Right. Yeah, we do. Okay, I’ll meet you…” He looks around the room.
“Go get your stuff and come back here. We will leave together.” I clap him on the back and he nods before I call Jett, who immediately springs into action.
Less than ten minutes later, we’re loading into an SUV in front of the hotel.
When I hear the paparazzi’s questions, it dawns on me that they’ve been camped out here waiting for Wells and me, although I don’t know how they knew we were staying here.
But I don’t care—all I care about is getting to Tinsley’s side as fast as possible.
I can’t stop bouncing my knee as I stare at my cell phone sitting on the table in front of me. It’s been lighting up constantly from texts and calls, but there are only a few people I am interested in talking to or hearing from right now.
Her name pops up on my cell phone and I tap my screen as fast as possible to connect the call on speaker. When we spoke to her just before taking off from London, her updates had been a mix of okay, bad, and terrible news.
“What do you know?” I don’t waste my breath or her time with pleasantries.
“Is Wells with you?” Daphne Cromwell asks as the background noise of wherever she is fades away. Her firm is on retainer with our company and she was my first call en route to the airport after we heard the news.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Wells leans forward from his seat on the other side of the table, his knuckles white from gripping the armrest. Our company jet departed London two hours ago, but despite being billionaires, we can’t change the fact that it’s a seven-plus-hour flight to New York City.
We’ve barely spoken to each other in the last few hours since we got the call, unless it was related to trying to find out more information about the situation.
“I wish I had better news to report, but I just got an update from her surgical team.” Daphne’s voice cracks on the last word and that’s unheard of when it comes to her typical British stiff upper lip ways.
My stomach lurches because if Daphne is struggling to tell us, then it’s even worse than we initially heard.
“Just say it, Daph,” Wells says barely above a whisper.
Daphne clears her throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what to tell you right now, but I don’t think she’s going to make it. It’s bad, it’s really fucking bad.”
“What are they saying?” I manage to ask.
“When Fiona arrived at the emergency room, they assessed her and quickly took her into emergency surgery like I told you. The doctors were worried about her internal bleeding and needed to stabilize some of her fractures. They ruled out an epidural hematoma as well.”
“How many fractures does she have?” Wells interrupts.
Daphne pauses before responding, “Too many, Wells. Due to the high rate of speed upon impact, Fiona has a fractured pelvis and femur, along with multiple rib fractures.”
“Fucking hell...” Wells looks at me with wide eyes.
But I know Daphne. And I doubt that’s all of it. “What else aren’t you saying, Daphne?”
She sighs. “She’s still unresponsive, and the doctors just told me Fiona has sustained a severe traumatic brain injury, specifically an acute subdural hematoma.
She is getting set up in the ICU right now and I’m not sure when I can see her, but the initial brain imaging showed that her brain has severe swelling. ”
“What does that mean, Daph?” I ask. “What are they saying that means for recovery?”
“It means we don’t know yet if that’s an option. And it also means I need her sister to hurry up and get here as soon as possible from Nashville.”
“Did we put her sister on one of our jets?” I ask.
“Of course. She should be landing here in the next thirty minutes. One of my associates will meet her at the tarmac and accompany her until I can meet with her.”
“Is there any other family we need to notify?” Wells ask.
“No, it’s just Fiona and Dahlia, and … well, it’s just the two of them right now. But I’ve actually met Dahlia a few times before so maybe that will help a little to know at least one person here.”
“What’s her prognosis, really? Like no bullshit?” Wells asks.
“It all depends on how things go from here, but this is a bad spot to come back from. I won’t give you guys false hope.
” Daphne says something to someone next to her before coming back to our conversation.
“One of the nurses just came and told me that Tinsley is out of her CT scan and asking for me, so I will be going between her room and Fiona’s until you guys arrive.
I also have additional team members here to ensure that no one is alone at any point.
Thor also has security teams stationed at each room.
There’s already been a breach of security with the press, but Thor’s guys made sure they didn’t make it past the elevators on Tinsley’s floor. ”
“If she’s awake when you see Tinsley, will you call us, if she’s up to it?” I try my hardest not to make it sound like an order but I need to talk to my girl.
We know from Daphne’s earlier call that Tinsley’s injuries are not nearly as severe as Fiona’s.
She has a mild concussion which they are going to watch with CT scans.
Due to her recent concussion she just suffered last fall, and the fact that she was unconscious for a short period of time after the crash, she is at risk for intracranial bleeding and will likely be in the hospital for a few days to monitor that alone.
Tinsley has some cuts on her face from the impact and probably from the airbags deploying, but because she was wearing her seatbelt, most of her injuries are bruises related to the impact of the crash.
I am worried about her ribs since she just recovered from Rick breaking them four months ago, but there is no comparison of the severity of injuries between Tinsley and Fiona.
And of course, Roman Cash.
He was pronounced dead at the scene, which has made a terrible situation even worse with the paparazzi out for blood, and images of him with Tinsley and Fiona before they left the Grammys are being used as speculation and fueling horrible rumors already.
But like I told Wells, we are going to deal in facts, not fiction.
Right now, the only fact I care about is that I need to get to my girl, and I won’t be able to fully exhale until my eyes are on her—until I am able to touch her, and she knows I’m there.
Once I’m by her side, I’m not leaving it for the foreseeable future.