Chapter 31 Tigerlily
Chapter Thirty-One: Tigerlily
At some point, they would have to leave.
That’s what I kept telling myself every time Jax dozed off in the hospital chair, or Zephyr brought me food I couldn’t eat, or Callum made jokes that almost made me forget where I was.
At some point, they would have to tend back to their real lives. Practice. Games. Classes. Everything that existed before I became their problem.
The stillness that followed after they left each night ate me alive.
But what ate me even more was not seeing Zinnia. Not knowing if she was okay. Not knowing where she was sleeping or if she was crying or if anyone was explaining to her what happened. I didn’t have a voice to call the office to find out where she was, and it was killing me on the inside.
Then the police showed up.
They had come the first day I woke up, but I told them nothing. Blamed the drugs for my confusion. The pain for my inability to speak. My throat was too sore to talk. They took one look at me—wires and tubes and bandages—and scheduled a time to come back.
That time is now.
And luckily, the guys are at hockey practice.
Two officers stand in my hospital room looking official and out of place. One of them pulls out a recorder and sets it on the table next to my bed.
“Tigerlily,” the first officer says. “Is that your real name?”
“Yes.” I blink, looking between the two officers.
“Do you remember what happened to your arm?”
I look down at the bandage wrapped around my shoulder. The image flashes through my mind before I can stop it—my dad aiming the gun at Jax, the way the barrel looked when it turned toward me as if it was on purpose, the sound that rang through my ears and stripped everything else away.
I nod.
“I need your verbal confirmation,” he says.
“Yes.” My voice isn’t very strong. My throat still hurts.
“Can you explain to me in detail what happened?”
I swallow hard. My body trembles without my permission. “I was shot.”
“Can you tell me the events leading up to the incident? In detail?”
I take a breath and force myself to think past the noise and the pain and the fear. “Sure.” I look away and continue, “I forgot about a project that was due. I needed a book from Barnes. So I went there.” The talking hurts, but the officers don’t seem to care about my pain levels.
“Barnes & Noble?” he repeats, writing something down.
“Yes. I bought the book I needed. Then I stopped at Taco Bell to pick up dinner like I promised my dad I would. Then I went home.”
“What time was this?”
“Around six, maybe? I don’t remember exactly.”
“And then what happened?”
“My dad said the hose was broken, and he needed to go outside and fix it. After we ate dinner, he went out to fix it. When he came back inside...” I pause. My throat tightens. “He attacked me.”
The officer’s pen stops moving. “Attacked you? Out of nowhere?”
I nod. “He grabbed me. Threw me at the couch. Then he...” I touch my throat without thinking. “He strangled me until I passed out.”
Silence fills the room.
“Then I woke up,” I continue, voice shaking. “To commotion. I saw my dad attacking Jax. Jax was on the ground. There was blood. So I tried to intervene.”
“Who is Jax?”
“A friend.”
“And then?”
“My dad had a gun.” A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. “He was going to shoot Jax. So I stepped in front of him. And my dad shot me instead.”
I don’t tell them about Zephyr. About Zinnia. About anything else.
“Then I woke up here,” I finish.
The officer studies me for a long moment. “Who is Damien Lopez to you?”
I suck in the snot threatening to fall. “My dad.”
“Your dad?” He questions. “Your biological father?”
I blink out another tear. “No.”
“I’m going to ask you again. Who is Damien Lopez to you?”
My chest tightens. “He’s my dad. Not biological. He always told me that blood didn’t matter. That my father is who I’m related to by blood, but he is my dad. He’s the man that raised me.”
They exchange a look.
“Is he your ex-stepfather, Tigerlily?”
I look at them. They already know the answer to the question. Are they trying to trick me? I nod slowly.
“I need verbal confirmation.”
I look down. “Yes. Technically, he’s my ex-stepfather.”
“Do you see how this is confusing to us?”
I stare at my feet near the edge of the hospital bed. Confusing for them?
“You’re claiming he’s your dad, but he’s not even your current stepfather.”
I meet his eyes but don’t respond.
“Where is your mother?” he asks.
And there it is. Another question they already know the answer to. They’re testing me. Seeing if I’ll lie. Seeing what story I’ll tell.
“I want a lawyer,” I say.
He stares at me, doesn’t move, just stares.
“Okay,” he says finally.
He reaches over and clicks off the recorder. He pulls a business card from his pocket and sets it on the table.
“We’ll be in touch.”
I watch both officers walk out the door. The second it closes behind them, I exhale and the tears start falling.
I can’t stop them.
I think about my mom. About everything she went through. About my dad—my ex-stepfather—and how he tried to kill Jax. How he shot me instead.
About Zinnia. Where is she? Is she scared? Is she crying? Does she know I’m okay? Is she okay?
I pray that she’s okay. That wherever she is, someone is taking care of her.
My phone isn’t with me. I’ve already searched through my memory trying to remember the last time I saw it. I had it in the car when I came home with Taco Bell. I know I didn’t have it at the dinner table when I served the food.
It’s probably still at home on the counter where I left it.
The nurse walks in shortly after, checking machines and making notes on her clipboard.
“How are you feeling?” she asks without looking at me.
“When can I leave?”
She keeps working, unfazed. “I can ask the doctor.”
“Please do. I need to get out of here.”
“Okay,” she says, tending to something.
I demand, “Right now. Can you ask the doctor right now?”
She finally looks at me. Pauses. “Okay.”
Then she leaves the room.
I exhale as more tears fall down my face. They won’t stop. I wipe them away with my good hand but more just take their place.
Will I even be allowed to go home? And if I am, do I even want to? Is it even home anymore?
I know I’ll need to step foot in that house eventually. I need my things. My clothes. My laptop. Zinnia’s things.
But with my dad in jail, we’ll lose the house. The rent will go unpaid. I can’t live there anymore.
I need a plan.
I have no plan.
The nurse comes back twenty minutes later. “I’m starting on your paperwork now. But with the medications you’re on, you cannot drive. Do you have someone who can care for you?”
I nod immediately, lying. “Yeah. It’s no problem.”
She eyes me like she doesn’t quite believe me but doesn’t push. “Alright. Someone will bring your discharge papers soon.”
By the time I’m actually discharged, Jax, Zephyr, and Callum are walking through the hallway toward my room. Still in practice clothes. Hair damp from showers. Moving fast like they’re worried.
“Hey,” I say when they’re near.
They stop and glance around, looking for a nurse or a doctor.
“Hey, girl,” Callum says smoothly, but his eyes are scanning me head to toe like he’s checking for new injuries.
“They released you?” Jax asks.
“Where’s your nurse?” Zephyr adds.
“I can walk,” I say. “I’m released.”
I don’t mention that I talked to the cops. Don’t mention that I’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for them to show up. Don’t mention any of it.
Callum walks around me playfully, examining me from all angles. “Alright. Let’s get Tiger home.”
Home.
The word hangs in the air.
I don’t have a home anymore.
But I follow them out of the hospital anyway, because they’re all that I have now.