TWENTY-FIVE
HAYDEN
BOSTON
DECEMBER
Something is poking me in the side. Again. And again.
“Mmm... five more minutes, baby...” I groan, burying my face in Emerald’s hair. I kiss her and nuzzle into the softness, but the scent is off. Did she change her shampoo? Why does my eye hurt? Did I take a hit in practice yesterday?
The poking becomes stronger, more insistent.
Did my alarm go off? I don’t have practice or a game today. It’s Christmas, I’m off. Grumbling and feeling groggy, I half-heartedly fight the fog trying to pull me under. I’m comfortable and sleepy, and my Emerald is in my arms.
Just a couple more minutes—
Something pinches my side, making me snap open my eyes. The first thing I see are Emerald’s amused ones, and I’m about to return the favor and tickle her for waking me, when my gaze drops. And it all comes back to me.
The fight. Doyle. Coming back to the hospital. Holding Emerald.
The amusement on Emerald’s face drops when I lift my head. Her brow furrows, and her fingers gently brush over my cheekbone. No doubt it’s bruised—not for the first time, probably not for the last—well, actually. Maybe for the last time. I don’t play hockey anymore.
And that thought doesn’t fill me with a bit of sadness .
It occurs to me then that Emerald and I slept cramped in this hospital bed, and I might have accidentally hurt her in the middle of the night. I sit up fast, my fingers brushing lightly over her jaw while my eyes scan her for any fresh ache or injury.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you last night? Did I—”
Emerald places a hand over my mouth, and I revel in the feel of her touch. Not able to resist, I press a kiss to her fingertips, making her smile softly.
“Why did you—” I start to ask, before a buzzing noise catches my attention. It’s coming from my jacket on the chair. My phone. “Has my phone been going on?”
Emerald taps the bed once. Yes. Before I can think twice, I lean forward and kiss her cheek before sliding out of bed. I notice that Emerald’s cheeks are an adorable pink color; the rest of her bruising has pretty much faded by now, leaving behind her normal tan skin.
Groaning at the pops and cracks that go up my spine, I grab my phone from my jacket.
Aisha.
With a shaky finger, I swipe to answer and press the phone to my ear.
“Merry Christmas, Hayden,” Aisha says, sounding very jolly for six in the morning. “We got him.”
My heart stutters, all the residual exhaustion leaving my body instantly. “Him?”
“The man who assaulted Emerald. Patrick Doyle walked into the station this morning and turned himself in. Looks like Donnelly’s goons got to him. Guy’s face looks like ground beef,” she says dryly.
My gaze drops to my shredded knuckles.
No, just this goon .
“What...” I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice even. “What happens now?”
“He waived his rights and confessed to Ramirez. Everything. The gambling, going to the arena, seeing Emerald, the assault—all of it. We’ve got the video, and now we’ve got the confession. He’s done for.”
I close my eyes. Fuck. I had been so worried.
Last night, Tim was just concerned with getting me out of that bar before someone recognized me or called the cops.
And I was so fucked up in the head; all I wanted was Emerald. I had thought I fucked it all up. That this guy just got off with a beating by me, and that’s it. His bruises will heal, his scars will fade, and it’ll be just a bad memory for him.
I guess there is some decency left in him.
“That’s good,” my voice sounds strange. Too tight. I swallow, trying to clear my throat and sending a concerned Emerald a reassuring look.
“It is,” Aisha says, her voice dropping into something almost maternal. “Tell Emerald to rest easy. Her attacker’s going away for a long while.”
“I will,” I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. “Thank you.”
“I’m just sorry it took so long to catch him, and that it wasn’t even us,” Aisha’s tone sounds off when she says this. Suspicious in a way that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Then I remember what she said yesterday—stretched thin, lots of turnover.
Is she implying what I think she is?
“Anyway, I will keep you posted. Ramirez and I will continue investigating Britney. We’re working on that search warrant for Rick Fox, just difficult with the holiday. Everyone’s off till the New Year.”
“No, I get it,” I say, even though my stomach turns at the thought of him. “It’s fine.”
“Do you want me to keep the police detail at the hospital?”
The churning in my stomach grows, and I tell her, “No. You can call it off. We’ll be leaving to go to the house for the next couple of weeks, and I’ll be there.”
“You’re sure?”
Emerald is still watching me, concerned and curious. I glance at the police officer outside the room, scrolling on his phone. As if feeling my gaze on him, he turns to meet my eye for a brief moment before quickly averting his gaze.
Something is there.
I just don’t know what it is yet.
But I think Aisha is on the right track.
“Yes. We’re fine.”
“Okay,” Aisha says, “Done. I’ll be in touch.”
Aisha drops her voice even more, sounding almost like she doesn’t want to be overheard, and speaks right into the phone.
“Keep your circle tight, Hayden. We’ll track this Fox down.”
“Will do,” I say before hanging up.
Emerald looks at me, confused, as I walk to the door, but I just give her a small smile before opening it and saying to the officer, “You can go.”
He looks up at me, and for one brief second, something guilty flickers across his face before it smooths away.
“Detective Anthony said I’m supposed to—”
“You’re dismissed. Thank you for your service,” I say, before closing the door.
I then pull down the blinds on the glass door and watch through the cracks as the officer stands and walks down the hallway. Before he disappears out of sight, I see him lift his phone to his ear and peek back in this direction.
My hand curls into a fist.
Then something hits the back of my head. Turning, I see my annoyed-looking wife sitting on her bed, the marker she just threw at me rolling across the floor.
“Nice aim, baby,” I say, bending down to pick it up. She looks satisfied by the compliment for a moment before she pats the bed for me to sit. I do, turning to keep my eyes on the door.
I hand her back her marker, and she grabs the whiteboard.
I take a deep breath, “The man who assaulted you turned himself in this morning.”
Emerald blinks, looking vulnerable as she slowly writes.
Why?
“Your father told him to...” The shame closes my throat. “Because I wouldn’t have... stopped.” I would have... I almost did...”
I wouldn’t have stopped.
I would have killed him and been arrested.
If Tim hadn’t stopped me. If Tim hadn’t said, Emerald.
The thought of being separated from my wife makes me shiver, and Emerald catches it, grabbing the rainbow blanket and wrapping it around my shoulders.
And just that—that small caring act—brings tears to my eyes. Emerald sees it, and her face softens, her hand going to my cheek and brushing away the tear with her thumb as it falls.
“There’s rot in this city, Em,” I whisper. Emerald looks at me intently. “As soon as we can, we’re going home to Michigan.”
I was originally going to send Emerald home with her parents, while I stayed here to sniff out Rick. But I don’t want to spend another minute I don’t have to in this fucking city.
And I will not be far from Emerald again.
She writes something with a wry grin.
Finally.
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. Emerald opens her arms, and without a second thought, I fall right into them. I gently cup the back of her head while the other wraps around her waist, securing her firmly against my body.
“I failed once,” I growl softly into her ear. “Never again. I swear to you, Emerald.”
Emerald’s arms around my shoulders squeeze—three times.
And then I get it.
I sigh, kissing the side of her head.
“I love you too, baby.”