TWENTY #2
Then, my gift to them—a video of me berating my wife for not understanding pressure and for my job paying for her life.
Fuck.
It was all lining up perfectly for them.
My hands shake, and there’s a sound coming from my throat—animal-like. Half-whine, half-snarl. Regret, guilt, and rage crash together. I place my hand over my heart like I can keep it from bursting.
“Hayden?” Aisha’s voice sounds from the phone, sounding like she’s underwater. “Are you alright?”
A hand lands on my shoulder.
I turn and find Tim there, eyes sharp with concern. He takes one look at me, then steers me farther down the hall and away from the nurses’ station. Privacy, so that I can fall apart.
“Breathe,” Tim orders, coaching me by inhaling through his nose and releasing from his mouth.
I follow his rhythm. My heart starts to calm. My breathing evens out.
“You’re doing just fine, kid,” Tim keeps coaching me. “Everything is okay... you are safe, Hayden.”
The words register and sink deep, and after a few moments, the tension eases. My hand dropped during my panic, but when I look, Aisha is still on the line.
“Aisha? ”
“I’m here,” she says, her tone quieter now.
“I...” Clearing my throat, I try once more, my voice raspy. “Keep going.”
“So far, Britney’s being very cooperative,” Aisha snorts. “And the daddy who was supposed to own me is less thrilled than she expected. Apparently, you’re not the first athlete she’s grown attached to.”
“This is a mess,” I sigh, the irritation causing a headache to start right behind my eyes. I press my palm into my forehead, hoping for any relief. None.
Tim drops his hand, but stays close.
“We’re still digging,” Aisha says. “There’s a lot more to go through.”
“Any update on him?”
“No. O’Malley’s gave us nothing. Donnelly won’t talk,” Aisha bites. “We checked neighboring businesses, exterior arena footage. He just vanished. He knows where to disappear in this city... or someone is hiding him.”
My temper spikes again before I can stop it.
“So that’s it? The great Boston PD can’t catch one piece of shit? He just gets to walk around free while my wife spends Christmas in a hospital bed?”
“Hayden,” Aisha says, sounding infuriatingly calm. “We are doing everything we can—”
“Not enough!” I explode, my voice echoing down the hall and catching the attention of two nurses making rounds. Tim presses firmly down on my shoulder, trying to rein me in. “Not enough, Aisha.”
“I know,” she says quietly. “We’re stretched thin. Half the people on duty are rookies. They don’t know the holes in this city the way I do. I... I can go out tonight. Make a few more rounds— ”
The guilt hits then. Aisha’s a mother. She has a family to spend the holiday with. She has a life outside my nightmare. I’m not the center of the world, and she’s already doing so much work on this case and investigating Rick and Britney.
“No,” I say sharply, cutting off her words. “No, Aisha. I’m... I’m sorry. I’m just—”
“I understand how you feel, Hayden,” Aisha says, her voice warm. “Emerald is around the same age as my oldest daughter, and I would want to hunt that motherfucker down and rip him apart with my bare hands if I were in your shoes.”
“Thanks.”
“Is the apartment up for sale yet?”
“Yes,” I reply, at least a little happy about that.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dr. Flores—the hospital’s psychiatrist—giving Tim and me a wave before she steps into Emerald’s room.
Apparently, it’s advised after an assault to speak to a professional in trauma counseling. I hope she can help Emerald.
“Good,” Aisha says, “How’s Emerald?”
My eyes close. How is Emerald?
She’s violated. She’s hurt. She wants to go home. She can’t go home because she’s not well enough to travel yet. She’s spending Christmas inside a hospital. She’s depressed. She’s... pulling away.
Drifting somewhere I can’t follow.
“She’s healing,” I say simply. “Her bruising and swelling have gone down.”
“It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” Aisha says gently. “She’s one of the strongest survivors I’ve ever seen. Be there for her. That’s what she needs.”
Aisha speaks in a way that every single word carries weight. It’s an interesting dynamic with her partner, who’s the quieter of the two. Ramirez doesn’t say much, but his eyes always say enough. And I think this is sitting heavily with him.
“Okay,” I say, because it’s all I really can.
It’s the same advice everyone has been telling me. Linda, Tim, Ruby, Dr. Flores, and the hospital staff caring for Emerald.
Just be there for her.
But just being there for her isn’t working. She just keeps fading away, and I don’t know what to do.
I’m good at hockey because I’m good at violence. My wife was placed here because of someone else’s violence. I can’t solve this problem with my fists, and this is the most helpless I’ve ever felt.
“Merry Christmas, Hayden,” Aisha says. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Merry Christmas,” I mumble, and end the call.
Tim doesn’t say anything immediately, just stares out the window.
There’s a light snow falling, a white Christmas.
Emerald always loves snow on Christmas.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.
“You’re already doing everything right,” Tim shrugs, taking another sip of his coffee.
We both walk back to the door of Emerald’s room, seeing Dr. Flores speaking to Emerald.
Linda sits next to her, smiling at whatever Dr. Flores is saying, but Emerald doesn’t respond. Doesn’t smile. Just holds up a thumb.
Tim claps my back and starts guiding me away.
My body almost rebels, not wanting to distance myself from Emerald, but Tim’s words reach my ears.
“Come on, let them talk,” he says, his tone firm. “You and I are going to get a drink.”