Chapter 49
Evan
There are no words strong enough to describe the fear, the panic, the absolute dread of watching the person you love most in the world bleed out in front of you.
Anais was covered in blood…
I’m covered in her blood.
Not that I give a fuck.
All I care about right now is that my little brat is going to be okay.
But because I’m not family, the doctors won’t tell me much. Doesn’t matter how much I throw my name or weight around, no one will tell me a damn thing. I’m met with silence. No updates. No answers. Fucking nothing.
“Oh my god, Evan?” a familiar panicked female voice cries, cutting through my dark thoughts.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Anais’s parents and Harrison rushing toward me. They look wrecked, their faces drawn and filled with worry.
“What’s going on? How is she?” Mr. Lauder demands.
I swallow down the thick lump in my throat. “All they’ve told me is that she’s in surgery.”
Without a word, Mr. Lauder pushes past me to the front desk. “Where is my daughter?” he snaps. And I know he’d never usually be so hostile toward the receptionist, but his panic is taking over his senses.
“What the hell happened?” Harrison asks, eyeing my blood-soaked clothes warily.
“Please tell me she’s going to be, okay? I can’t lose my baby,” Mrs. Lauder sobs, clutching onto her son.
“She’ll be okay,” I assure her. Because she will.
She has to be. I turn my attention to my best friend and answer his question.
“It was some guy she goes to school with. From what I’ve gathered, he’s obsessed with her.
Lana,” I look over my shoulder to the waiting area where Lana sits in shock, staring at nothing.
“Lana,” I call, snapping her out of her daze.
Her head whips up, and she wipes at the tears leaking down her cheeks.
She stands, her arms crossed over her stomach as if she’s trying to keep herself from falling apart.
I can relate. I feel the same. “Tell them what you know.”
Lana relays everything she knows to Anais’s family.
She barely gets through it before Mr. Lauder returns, his jaw clenched and his voice clipped.
“She’s stable.” My nerves settle a little with those two words.
“She’s out of surgery and in recovery,” he continues.
“They had to remove a twelve-inch butcher knife from her damn thigh.” He chokes out the words, shaking his head.
Mrs. Lauder cries harder. My chest tightens, as pain radiates through me.
A fucking twelve-inch butcher knife, meant for me.
She fucking put herself in harm’s way to protect me.
He clears his throat, pulling me from my turmoil and composing himself as much as he can.
“They had to repair the femoral artery.” He sighs, running a hand across his mouth.
I think this is the first time in my life I’ve seen Mr. Lauder look scared.
“The doctor believes she’ll make a full recovery. ”
In that moment, all the adrenaline leaves my body. I collapse to my knees for the second time today, but this time it’s from relief. My hands lock behind my head, my eyes squeezed shut, as a wave of emotion washes over me.
Anais will make a full recovery.
She is going to be okay.
I’m not a man who cries, but in this moment, it is taking everything in me not to break down and sob like a damn baby.
“You good, man?” My eyes pop open, to find Harrison frowning down at me.
“Yeah,” I breathe out.
“Well, if you’re ready to get off that dirty floor, they said we can see her.” His lips twitch with sardonic amusement.
Glaring, I climb to my feet, ready to go see my woman, when I pause at the sound of my father’s voice. “Son, how is she?”
I turn to see my parents entering the hospital, panic etched deep into their faces. They’ve known Anais her whole life, she’s their goddaughter. Of course they’d be worried.
“In recovery.” Their expressions flash with relief. “We’re about to go see her now.”
The families greet each other – my mom hugging Mrs. Lauder, whispering words of comfort – before me and Anais’s family are ushered into an elevator.
I don’t give a fuck if I’m not classed as family. Nothing or no one will keep me away from my brat.
We’re led down the corridor and into a private room.
The moment I see her all the air leaves my lungs.
She looks so small and pale as she sleeps.
Nothing like the feisty girl I know. I step inside, ignoring her family and taking the seat next to the bed.
I gently take her hand, encasing it in my large palm.
“She may be out of it for a while,” the doctor explains. “She’s been through a major trauma and not only that, but she’ll be feeling the effects of anesthesia. She needs time to recover, so don’t be alarmed if she sleeps a lot.” I tune him out, my eyes locked on her beautiful face as I take her in.
I lift her hand, ignoring her mother on the other side of the bed, and press kisses to each of her fingers, her palm. “I love you,” I whisper hoarsely.
Now that I’ve said those three words, I want to say them to her every minute of every day until they are tattooed on her brain.
A throat clears, breaking me from my trance. Sighing, I glance up to find the Lauders watching me. Mr. Lauder looks confused. Mrs. Lauder seems unsurprised. And Harrison… he smirks like a cocky asshole.
“Something you want to tell me, son?” Mr. Lauder asks.
I rub my jaw with my free hand as I debate what to say. Truthfully, I would have preferred to have this conversation with Anais conscious, but the circumstances have left me with no other choice.
“I love her.” I tell him honestly.
His eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “You love her?” he repeats slowly.
“Yeah.” I say without hesitation.
He turns to look at Harrison. “And what do you think about this?”
My best friend chuckles. “Well, after beating his ass.” That’s a bit of an exaggeration but if it makes him feel better, I’ll let him have it. “We talked. If Evan wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t have let him near her, let alone in this room.”
Like Harrison could stop me. But again, I’ll let him have that one.
Mr. Lauder exhales, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Well, Christ. I didn’t see that coming.”
“That’s because you’re always too busy with work,” his wife laughs, rolling her eyes.
Harrison jerks his head at my blood-stained clothes. “You should go home and get cleaned up. Could be a while before she wakes.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere until she wakes up.”
He sighs. “Come on man, look at the state of you. Anais will freak out, when she opens her eyes and sees you like that.”
My jaw clenches. He’s right. But I’m not leaving.
“Go down to the gift shop and buy me a shirt.” I demand rather than ask.
He glowers, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do it yourself. I’m not your damn assistant.”
Instead of arguing, I pull out my phone, sending a quick text to my mother.
Me: Can you grab me a shirt from somewhere. And maybe some pants… just anything you can get your hands on.
Her response is immediate.
Mom: Of course, honey.
Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I shoot him a smug grin.
“Mom’s got it covered.”
He rolls his eyes, muttering. “Of course she does.”
Thirty minutes later my parents and Lana are in the room.
Mom is carrying a bag, which she hands to me without saying a word, before going to Anais’s bedside.
Her eyes are glassy with tears as she takes in her goddaughter, and in that moment I realize just how deeply she loves and cares for Anais. How much both my parents do.
Sighing, I rise from the chair and slip into the private bathroom to get changed. Gripping the edges of the sink, my eyes meet the mirror. I recoil at the sight of the weary, bloody man staring back at me.
Jesus, I really do look like hell.
Turning on the faucet, I splash cold water on my face, scrubbing away the blood.
My jaw tightens, teeth grinding, as the memory of that asshole spilling Anais’s blood flickers in my mind.
I’m fucking furious. Enraged that anyone managed to get close enough to stab her.
Guilt floods my veins like poison. I didn’t protect her.
Yet without a shred of hesitation or concern for her own safety, Anais threw herself in front of me.
When she wakes up, I’m going to kiss the shit out of her… then lecture her on being so reckless. On the importance of not putting herself in dangerous situations. She should’ve run in the other direction, not into the line of fire.
But knowing how stubborn she is, she’ll most likely ignore every word of my warning.
With a sigh, I push off my suit jacket, pull off my tie, and unbutton my soiled shirt, letting them drop to the floor.
I make quick work of removing my pants, leaving me in my boxer briefs and socks.
Digging into the bag, I yank out the clothing Mom bought and pull it on, grimacing at the hospital branded gray tee and matching sweats.
I’d never be caught dead outside the gym in something like this, but needs must. I couldn’t care less right now.
These are unusual circumstances, and I’d wear a bin bag if I had to.
If it was anyone else, I’d go home and change into another suit, but I can’t bear the thought of leaving her.
“Baby, you’re awake.” I hear Mrs. Lauder cry from the hospital room.
My heart stalls in my chest.
Crossing the bathroom, I pull the door open. All the air leaves my lungs for the second or third time today.
Because there she is.
With her lilac eyes open and locked on mine.
My brat.
Alive. Awake. Safe.
Mine.