Chapter 4
Sarah's POV
Where the hell is he? I’ve been trying to reach Lincoln over and over. He’s not answering anything. God damn it. Is he trying to flake on me?
I know his stupid ex-wife is living with him again. That stupid bitch woman. Quite a few times I’ve wanted to show up to Lincoln’s house just to start some shit, but Lincoln warned me against it, so I have to be covert.
But good ol’ Gabrielle is always there.
So where is Lincoln? I keep calling, and when I get worried and still can’t reach him, I figure I’d call some of the dudes from work. Nobody knows where he is.
It’s weird of him not to answer or at least let me know where he is.
He’s not home.
I ring the doorbell, knowing that Gabrielle might answer or she might not. I look through the windows, trying to see if I can see anything through the glass. There’s no movement. The house is very dark, except for the kitchen light being on in the distance.
I could have sworn I saw the cat moving in there.
Where the hell is he?
My curiosity makes me want to call Gabrielle. I move back to my car, and then one of the neighbors, an older man who usually walks his dog around this time, is staring at me and the house.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Yeah, is everything okay? Is your boyfriend okay? Are you guys okay?” the old man asks.
I’m confused.
“Why are you asking? As far as I know, we’re fine. I can’t find him.”
“That’s weird, because there was an ambulance here earlier.”
My heart drops. I’ve never been the kind of person to obsess over anyone. I know I like Lincoln.
I care about him deeply.
But I guess I didn’t realize how much until the old man said that. My heart feels like it just about exploded into a cloud of precipitation, worry overtaking everything.
“What do you mean there was an ambulance?” I ask.
“Yeah, there was an ambulance here earlier this evening. I’m not sure what happened, but it looked like they were taking him out of his house, and the black girl was with him. I was wondering what happened.”
I get in my car immediately and make a beeline for the hospital.
When I get there, I go straight to the front desk.
“Is Lincoln Arnoldson here? Did he come in?” I ask.
The nurse looks at me. “Who are you to the patient?”
“I’m his girlfriend.”
The nurse looks at me weird. I slap the desk twice.
“Where is he? Is he okay? I need to see him.”
The nurse calmly responds, “I’m sorry. Only family can be back there right now in the ER.”
My chest tightens.
No.
No.
I am not doing this.
I step around the counter, heading toward the ER doors.
“Ma’am!”
I spin around. “Listen. Gabrielle is back there, isn’t she? Lincoln’s ex-wife.”
The nurse freezes at the name. Bingo.
“She’s a crazy person who attacked me at a restaurant. It was all over the news. She’s very violent. She’s unstable. And she’s alone with him? Seriously?”
The nurse stiffens. Her whole posture changes.
Hospitals don’t play around with “possible threat to a patient.” Liability is their religion.
“Legally, his—” she says, already nervous.
I lean in, my voice shaking. “She put me in the hospital 3 months ago. This very one. She’s obsessed with him. I’m telling you right now, if something happens to him, if she does anything, you are responsible.”
That gets her.
Her face drains of color.
Good.
She immediately reaches for the phone. “Security, this is Admissions. I need—”
That’s my opening.
While she’s distracted covering her own ass, I walk. Fast. Straight past the desk. The nurse snaps her head up, panic flashing across her face.
“Ma’am, you can’t go back there; security is coming!”
“Perfect,” I say without stopping. “Then they can escort me, because clearly no one here is taking patient safety seriously.”
She sputters something about protocol and family-only access, but she doesn’t leave her desk.
The ER doors beep when I push them open, spilling me into bright light and chaos, beeping monitors, rolling gurneys, nurses in motion. I ignore every single person and head straight down the hallway, checking room signs fast.
There's so much activity. Enough for people to ignore me.
A nurse walks by with a chart and says to another,
“Arnoldson’s ICU bed is ready,” she calls to another nurse.
The second nurse doesn’t even look up. “What bed is he in?”
“Bed 7.”
My stomach flips and knots all at once.
I head for bed 7.
The curtain is half-open. I walk in without hesitating.
And there she is.
Gabrielle.
Sitting beside his bed. Her hands are clenched in her lap, eyes red like she’s been crying, shoulders hunched.
She looks up the second she senses me.
Her face goes from startled to hostile in under a heartbeat.
I raise my chin. “Figures.”
She stands immediately, glaring. “Why are you here?”
A sarcastic scoff escapes me.
Gabrielle’s jaw tightens. “Don’t start with me—”
“I didn’t start anything.” My eyes flick to Lincoln on the bed. He’s pale, hooked to monitors, chest rising slow and shallow. My throat closes for a second.
Gabby’s eyes soften when she looks at him. Mine burn.
“Get out,” she says.
“No,” I answer simply.
We both stand there facing each other across the room, like two storms about to collide over the man sleeping between us. And just when the tension tightens enough to snap…
Lincoln stirs.
His fingers twitch. His breathing shifts. His eyes struggle to open.
We both freeze.
Gabby moves first, stepping closer, voice trembling. “Lincoln?”
I take a step too, refusing to be edged out. “Hey, Lincoln—hey, look at me.”
His eyelids flutter. Confusion creases his forehead.
And the first word out of his mouth…
Is mine.
“Sarah…?”
Gabby’s face shatters.
And I step closer to the bed, victorious heat rushing through my chest even as guilt gnaws somewhere deeper.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I’m right here.”
Gabby looks like she might actually break something.
Security walks in a beat later, two officers, big guys, and the whole room freezes.
Perfect timing.
Now the fun really begins.
-??-