Chapter Twenty-Four
Owen
Stella shifts in my lap, moving to tuck her head in the crook of my neck. She goes into hysterics whenever someone suggests taking her home. When the town car containing both Stella and Gloria pulled up, just as Tristan was being wheeled out of the house on a gurney, Stella had gone into major meltdown mode. Taking care of her, and trying to calm her down, has kept me from murdering Gloria.
Harvey Morton, the guy who broke into Tristan’s home and was viscously beating the ever-loving shit out of her, gave up Gloria Clemmens as the mastermind behind the whole thing within seconds of Huck sinking his teeth into his leg. He begged to tell us everything just to get Huck to let him go.
Gloria’s lawyer apparently told her she had no real case to gain custody of Stella, and no recourse to keep them in DC. So she decided to hire Harvey to help her. The plan had been pretty simple. She paid Harvey to scare Tristan away from Broward and back to DC so she could maintain control over them. When trashing the car and breaking into the house didn’t work, she had ordered Harvey to step up his game.
He stepped up his game to the point that Tristan was lying in the hospital bed with a bruised windpipe, two broken ribs, a sprained wrist, and a mild concussion. That didn’t take into account the wide array of bruises that covered a large portion of her body.
I’m going to have to stay away from the station until they transfer Gloria to the county jail or I may end up killing her myself. I’m not sure I’m ever going to get the picture of Harvey holding Tristan up against the wall, blood trickling out of her nose out of my head. A murderous rage, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, had rushed through my entire body.
Stella shifts again, rubbing her little nose against my neck. Ma apparently bought Stella some pajamas as one of the numerous Christmas gifts she’d already purchased and she brought them to the hospital for her to change into. Christmas is still two weeks out and I’m pretty sure there are already twenty-five gifts under the tree for Stella alone. In this instance, I’m glad for my mother going overboard. Stella is much more comfortable in the pale pink, polka-dotted pajamas than the frilly little dress she’d worn to dinner. I also had Bash go through the townhouse and find Phant for her, as well. Anything to make her feel better. I might be incredibly uncomfortable in the hospital chair with the little girl curled up in my lap, but there’s nowhere else I want to be.
The door behind me opens and I listen as my mother creeps back into the room. I can tell it’s her from the scent of cinnamon that follows her into the room. She was making Christmas cookies when I called and asked her to meet us at the hospital. I glance up when her hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing softly. “How are you doing, honey?”
“Okay. They gave her something to help Tristan sleep through the night.”
“That’s probably for the best. Do you want me to take Stella home with me?”
“No.” My arm tightens around her waist. “Tristan will want to see her in the morning.”
Mom smiles softly. “I figured you’d say that. I brought you a blanket. They’re going to roll in a cot for you in just a few minutes. It still won’t be comfortable, but it will be better than this horrible chair.” She drapes the blanket across Stella, tucking it in around her hips. She brushes a hand down her hair. “Do you need anything else before we go?”
“No, we’re good. Thanks, Ma.”
“Of course.” She leans over and brushes a kiss across my cheek. “We’ll be back in the morning. Just let us know when they’re about to release her and we’ll come pick you up, okay? Or if you need us to come get Stella before then, just call.”
“All right. Thanks.”
Ma just barely makes it out of the room before the nurse rolls in the cot for us to use. It doesn’t look big enough for both of us, despite how little Stella is. Resigned to an uncomfortable night in the chair, I carefully shift Stella over to the cot, covering her with the blanket. The nurse comes back in with a pillow and a second blanket. I smile my thanks and finish getting Stella situated. She’s so exhausted she doesn’t stir at all through the transition. I rode in the car with her and Roe instead of in the ambulance with Tristan. Stella had clung to me with fat tears sliding, one after the other, down her checks during the entire trip. She’d been clinging to me ever since.
Once I have her situated, I slide the chair closer to the hospital bed where Tristan is sleeping, before sliding back into it. I slouch down low in the seat, tucking the folded blanket behind my head as a makeshift pillow. I reach over, wrapping my fingers around Tristan’s. I rub my thumb across the back of her hand, careful of the IV pumping her full of painkillers. I doubt I’ll sleep a whole lot, but I let my eyes slide closed and listen to Stella’s soft snoring and the reassuring beep of the heart monitor hooked up to Tristan.
When I open my eyes again, Stella has crawled up into the bed with Tristan. The TV has been tuned to a kids’ cartoon show, and Stella is watching it intently. Her head is tucked up against Tristan’s, her fingers tangled in her mother’s hair. Phant is forgotten on the cot behind me.
“Hey,” Tristan whispers the words, her voice gravely and hoarse from the bruised windpipe.
“Shh.” I drop my feet to the floor, leaning forward. “You’re not supposed to talk.”
“Not bad.”
“Which is why you’re wincing when you talk, right? Just shut up.”
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Love.” Her tongue dips out to lick along her bottom lip “You.”
I arch a brow. “Are you telling me you love me for the first time while lying in a hospital bed, Tristan?”
Her eyes slide closed. I wait her out, holding my breath. I’m not sure how much of this conversation she’s actually going to remember. Exactly how hopped-up on drugs is she? Her eyes pop open again, meeting mine. “Yes. Bad timing?”
A startled laugh bursts from my lips. “Absolutely not. There’s never a bad time for you to tell me you love me.” I lean over the bed, brushing my lips across hers. “Never a bad time.”
“You?” She winces with the word, her eyes closing again for the briefest of moments. She goes to shift in the bed, releasing a strangled cry when moving hurts her ribs. Tears leak out of the corner of her eye, and the murderous rage from last night is starting to bubble again.
“Me what?”
She licks her lips again. “Asshole.”
“Dat’s a naudy word,” Stella pipes up, never taking her eyes off the show she’s watching. “You should say sowwy.”
“Yeah, Tristan. You should say you’re sorry.”
“Lying.”
The nurse chooses that moment to come in the room to check in to make sure we’re all doing okay. She checks the IV bag, keying some information into the computer she had rolled in with her. She lets us know that the doctor is just starting rounds and will be in to see us shortly. All signs indicate that Tristan will be released this morning.
The nurse reminds Tristan that she is supposed to be resting her voice and points out that Stella technically shouldn’t be up in the bed with Tristan, but none of us make her move. With a small smile, the nurse bustles back out of the room as quickly as she came in.