Guilt shackles itself to my ankles as I walk farther in. Sinclair is hooked up to a dozen machines, and there is a tube breathing for him. It’s the first time I’ve seen him be still in what feels like years. Its eerie and unsettling, and the lump in my throat feels like acid, burning me from the inside out.
“Dad,” I choke out.
My father slowly lifts his head, blinking as if he doesn’t register I’m in front of him.
“I should have intervened,” he says, and it’s the most raw expression I’ve ever seen cross his face.
I pull up a chair, sitting so that I can touch any part of my brother. My hand lands on his leg, which is under the blanket, and he doesn’t stir in the slightest. I hate that we’re here.
Dad and I sit with him for what feels like hours until a doctor comes in to give us an update.
Sinclair has a brain bleed, which they’ll need to repair with surgery tomorrow. The doctors decided to place him in an induced coma to allow time for the swelling in his skull to go down before they operate. He also has two broken ribs, whiplash, and a sprained wrist. All in all, my brother is lucky and should come out of this with no lasting effects, but it’s all still terrifying.
By the time I walk out of Sin’s hospital room hours later, my phone has blown up with messages and calls. Colleen has left me at least four voicemails, with countless texts. Hayes is almost matching her. Clark has left me a voicemail.
But it’s the almost twenty missed calls from Hannah that have my internal alarms going off. There is no way she could have known what happened tonight, unless maybe Colleen called her? But I don’t see my cousin wanting to worry her.
No, something deeper is set off inside me, and I can’t explain the feeling, but I know this isn’t about my brother’s accident.
I click her name and wait as the phone dials.
“Oh, God, Walker, thank God.” Her voice sounds ten shades of emotional.
“What’s going on?” I ask, disoriented from everything that’s happened tonight.
“We were at the hospital. Breanna had to get stitches, Shane showed up to my house and was screaming, and now we’re at the police station …”
Hannah is unraveling, rambling to me on the phone about a series of events that don’t quite make sense.
“I know you can’t come back, it’s so late, I just—”
“I’m actually in Packton, I flew back hours ago,” I say, not that it explains anything.
There is a pause. “What? Wait, why? Can you come meet me? I need you, I just …”
Her voice breaks off on a sob, but I feel numb.
“Hannah, I can’t … I have my own stuff going on. My brother was in an accident. He wrapped his car around a tree and is in a coma.”
Another beat of silence. “I’m so sorry. I just … tonight has been awful. Jeez, apparently for all of us. Can I see you, do you need me to—”
“I can’t. I need to be here for my family.” My voice is stony, because how can’t she understand this?
Something inside me shuts down, clamps off the emotion and heartbreak I should feel for Hannah. Clearly, something happened with Shane. But instead of my usual savior complex that is always activated when I feel she’s in trouble, I feel … nothing. I’ve disregarded my family, my own brother, to save her time and again.
“I can’t, Hannah. Sorry.”
And I click off, slumping into a chair outside my brother’s hospital room, swearing I won’t leave until he’s awake and fully conscious.
29
Hannah
Do you know that feeling when your eyeball sockets feel so tired, they actually seem to be detaching themselves from your face?
Yeah, mine are probably somewhere in California by now, they left so long ago. From the crying, lack of sleep, and extensive worrying, my eyes actually ache as I sit down at my kitchen table.
The last twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind, a nightmare, and a savior all rolled into one. I saw the blood pouring down Breanna’s face, and it was as if all of my worst fears had come true. Shane had finally taken his abuse and used it on the girls. Things moved quickly after that.
A police car and ambulance showed up within five minutes of Shane throwing the phone at Breanna’s head, because the call had dropped and they had to check out the situation. Shane was taken into custody again, and he was swearing and remorseful. The moment he tried to touch our youngest daughter, I screamed to high heaven. Some of the neighbors came out, and one even helped to keep him on the lawn instead of coming into my house.
Noelle and I rode in the ambulance with Breanna to the hospital, where she needed four stitches to close the wound in her head and a CT to check for any internal bleeding. She was a champ, sitting still under promises of lollipops and new toys so that the doctors could get everything they needed.
Dahlia met us there, and when we were all clear to be discharged, took the girls home to sleep. I headed to the police station, where with the help of Karla, who I woke up in the middle of the night, I filed an emergency petition to have the girls covered under my restraining order against Shane. This time, it was granted, and I could breathe a little easier.
I have no idea what will happen, or if Shane is out of police custody yet. He’s clearly violated the original restraining order, so it should result in some sort of punishment. And more charges where it concerns him endangering Breanna’s well-being should be added to the criminal case. But I haven’t gotten to speak with Laurel yet.
Karla was talking about how this will impact the divorce case as she drove me home at two in the morning. There’s clear evidence now that my husband had been missing visits, and that the girls were put in danger due to his actions. He put one of them in the hospital. I could fight for sole custody and possibly win it. I could walk away with what I’d always wanted out of this divorce, except …
This was never the way I wanted to get it. If I could go back, I’d erase it all just to keep Breanna safe. And Noelle, with all that she witnessed, the name her father called her …
The girls were rattled, there was no doubt about that. But my sister and I are trying to formulate a plan to talk to them and make them feel as normal as possible moving forward.
And me? I’m shellshocked. I have no idea what to feel, or how to react. I waver between wanting to burst into tears and screaming out in rage. He hurt one of my little girls, and there is nothing I can do about it. I feel guilty, responsible, and want to throw in the towel. But now is the hardest round of the fight, and I have no other option to get back up. I’m bloody and broken, but I still have a shot at winning this thing.
Dahlia walks into the kitchen, just having put the girls down for naps, or in Noelle’s case, quiet time.
“They seem to be settled. No tears, and Breanna seems tired, so she didn’t fight me on it.” My sister rubs my back, and I could cry the comforting gesture feels so good. “Also, Walker has been sitting outside in his truck for about twenty minutes.”
My head shoots up. “What?”
I check my phone, but I have no texts or missed calls from him.
“I’ll just go out front,” I tell her, and her eyes hold so much sympathy.