39. Unfuck it, Masked Avenger #2
I pull away and laugh, the kind that surprises me, shaking my head at this man and his goddamn timing.
My phone buzzes on the couch. Then again. And again.
I cross the room and grab it, ready to silence whoever it is, and the laughter dies in my throat. A message from Maggie. Joey’s in the hospital. She fell off Townshend.
The blood drains from my hands first, then my arms, then everywhere at once.
“I gotta get to the hospital.” I’m already moving, searching for my keys, my shoes, anything. “I gotta find out if she’s okay. The baby. Fuck.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Dad catches my arm. “What happened?”
“Joey fell off a horse. Maggie just texted me. I have to go.”
Dad reads my face, and whatever he sees there makes him grab his keys off the mixing board.
“You’re in no condition to drive. Come on.”
The next few minutes blur together. Dad shoves his keys into the ignition and peels out of the driveway. The Pacific Coast Highway unspools outside the windshield, the ocean a flat gray line beneath overcast sky. I clutch my phone in numb fingers, Maggie’s message glowing on the screen.
Jesse: What happened? Is the baby okay? Is she okay?
She leaves me on read and I’m going out of my mind.
This is my fault. If anything happens to them, it’s my fault.
Dad pulls into the hospital parking structure. I’m out of the car before he kills the engine, through the automatic doors and into the harsh fluorescent glare of the emergency department.
I don’t even make it to the front desk before Cash steps into my path.
“Jesse.” He says my name like a warning. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to see her. Is she okay? Is the baby…”
“You’ve done enough.” Cash crosses his arms. “I told you to be careful with my daughter, and you got her pregnant.”
“I know.” There’s nothing else to say. No defense, no excuse.
“She’s twenty years old, Jesse. She’s got her whole life ahead of her, and now—” He stops himself. “Go home.”
“I’m not leaving until I see her.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
Dad comes through the automatic doors. He reads the scene in a glance, Cash blocking me, the standoff crackling between us.
“You shouldn’t have brought him here, Jack.” Cash turns on him.
“Cash.” Dad’s voice is measured. “Come on. The kid wanted to make sure she’s okay.”
“Not when he’s the one who caused it.” Cash plants himself between me and the hallway.
“That’s not fair.”
“My daughter didn’t lie to me.” Cash’s voice climbs. “My daughter didn’t stay out all night, sneak around for months, keep secrets from her family—until she started seeing him. So if I’m pointing fingers here, I’m pointing them in your direction.”
“The real issue here is you don’t want your daughter dating my son.” Dad steps closer. “You never have.”
“My daughter didn’t sign up for this, Jack. She’s twenty years old with her whole life ahead of her, and now she’s saddled with more than any girl her age should have to carry.”
“Jesse’s a good kid.” Dad’s voice softens. “You’ve known him his whole life.”
Something vulnerable passes over Cash’s eyes, but it’s gone as fast as it surfaces. He swallows, and when he speaks again his voice is quieter.
“You know what I see, Jack?” His gaze drifts to me, then back to my father. “I see the past repeating itself.”
Before I can stop it he lunges for Cash.
“Hey!” A security guard catches Dad by the arm before he reaches Cash, wedging himself between them. “Lower your voices or you’re both out of here.”
They stare each other down, decades of friendship bending under the strain. Cash steps away first, pointing a finger at Dad.
“Keep him away from my daughter.”
He stalks down the hallway and disappears around the corner. Dad stands rigid, breathing hard, fists unclenching at his sides. He turns to me, and something in his expression crumbles.
“I’m sorry, kid.” He pulls me into a hug. “I lost my shit.”
“I’m not leaving.” I pull away, shaking my head. “I’m not leaving, Dad. I need to know if she’s okay.”
“Jesse, I don’t think Cash is gonna change his mind right now. He’s upset.”
“He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.” Dad puts both hands on my shoulders and holds my gaze. “He’s blinded by fear. This is a lot at once for any father to handle. That’s his daughter in there.”
“Yeah.” My voice breaks. “And that’s the girl I love in there, carrying my baby.”
Dad is quiet for a long moment. He nods slowly, and I watch the fight drain out of him, replaced by something steadier. He sits down in the nearest chair, and I drop into the one beside him.
“I can’t leave. I can’t leave not knowing if she or the baby are okay.”
He nods again. We sit for a moment, the emergency room humming around us, voices at the front desk, the squeak of shoes on linoleum, a television mounted on the wall cycling through muted news.
“Well.” Dad squeezes my shoulder and pushes himself to his feet. “I guess I should go find us some coffee, then.”
He heads toward the corridor leading to the cafeteria, and I’m alone. I drop my head into my hands, elbows propped on my thighs, and the fluorescent lights hum above me, the plastic chair digs into my spine, and my brain won’t stop cycling.
Someone drops down in front of me.
“Jesse.”
Maggie’s voice, unexpectedly soft. I lift my gaze. She’s crouched before me, her expression complicated, anger and reluctant understanding tangled together.
“Is she okay?” The words scrape out of me. “Is the baby okay?”
Maggie nods. “Yeah. They’re both okay.”
I shudder with relief so sharp it borders on pain, pressing my palms against my eyes, trying to hold myself together in the middle of this fluorescent-lit waiting room.
“I fucked up, Maggie.” My voice comes out hoarse. “I really fucked up.”
“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet. “You did.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment, then squeezes my knee once and stands.
“So unfuck it, masked avenger.”