“She’s alive. Though she has some new scars to add to her stockpile, she’s alive, and that’s all that matters. I’m positive this incident will in no way, shape, or form slow down her progress,” she jumps to add, at the expression on my face, “just a short-term setback is all this is.”
“Let me see her,” I growl, my hands curling around the arm of my chair. The wood creaks beneath my unrelenting grip.
She shakes her head. “I can’t do that. You’re not her family, Mr. King.”
“I’m not leaving here until I see her.”
She blows out an agitated sigh. “How about this? I take you to her room where we observe her from the other side of the door. I usually watch her from the windows, but today, you can join me. To see for yourself that she’s in good hands here.”
Not fucking likely.
The entire walk to the institution’s infirmary room, I can feel my heart pounding at the mere idea of seeing her again. It’s a quick and deep reverberation in my chest that feels like a steel drum. Even if I am supposed to hate her after everything she’s done, I’m incapable. After going days thinking she was dead, I just want to see with my own eyes that she’s okay.
My heart stalls in my chest when they walk us into her room, my gaze homing in on the small lumped form lying in the center of the hospital grade bed. I take in the casts, the bruising, just how battered she looks, and something tight and restricting enters my chest, squeezing my organs until I’m holding back a wince. Her hair is a shock back to reality, showing just how far she was willing to go for all of this. The black hair that I used to think was hers is now grown out halfway and a portion of the top half of her head is blond. There’s a patch of hair missing near the top of her head and forehead and a large scar protruding from the skin, which I’m assuming is from the altercation with the other patient.
“We’ve been giving her medication for the pain, and it makes her a little drowsy,” Dr. Aster offers, as we stare at her still form, blanketed in a heavy silence. My brows dip, and I’m just about to ask how often she’s been sleeping, when I freeze, noticing that Mackenzie is starting to lift her head. I refrain from flinching when I get a look at her face as she shifts positions. It’s bruised to shit, and it makes me want to haul her into my arms and take her far away from here, but I can’t do that.
For so many reasons, but only one that truly matters.
We continue watching her in silence. Both of us picking Mackenzie apart in our own ways. She’s likely trying to diagnose while I’m trying to find the woman who has held me captive from the moment I met her. I feel something crumble when I have a hard time finding her. Especially lying there in that bed, looking fragile and helpless.
It hits me then, just how royally I’ve fucked up. Madison asked me to look after her sister the night she died, and as I look at the shell of a woman lying in the bed, I realize just how badly I’ve failed.
When Mackenzie begins stirring again, I clamp my back teeth together and turn on my heel, away from her room. There’s a time and place for a reunion, but right now, like this? This isn’t it. She’ll feel caged if she knows I’ve been here watching her, seeing her at one of her lowest moments.
“As the ex-boyfriend, I can imagine seeing her like this is a shock,” Dr. Aster says, following me down the hall, away from Mackenzie’s room.
“How do you figure?”
“Call it my doctoral intuition.”
“She’s not my problem anymore.” The words are like acid on my tongue, turning my stomach.
“You don’t mean that. Want to know how I know that?”
I roll my eyes. “Not really.”
Her lips hitch up in amusement. “Because of the way you were staring at her.” Taking a step toward me, she seems to try to gather herself. “Listen, I get it. Your need to come in here and see for yourself how she’s doing. But I’d suggest you let go. Live your life. You and all your friends.”
I leave, intending to do just that. But that’s the thing about intentions you’re not committed to. They never come true.
“How is she?”
“She’s upset and, well, awfully paranoid,” Dr. Aster replies.
I blow out a breath, nudging my glass of scotch away. “Right.”
“You don’t have to keep calling to check on her. If I remember correctly, you said she wasn’t your problem anymore.”
I press my lips together, fighting the urge to curse at her. She’s not wrong. I did say those things, but I didn’t mean them. And she obviously knows that.
“Listen, she can’t hurt you guys anymore. I’ve told that to your friend. You both don’t have to keep doing this.”
Everything screeches to a halt. My eyes dart to Marcus, who’s sitting on the couch, his brows drawn together as he watches me.
“What did you just say?”
“That you don’t have to worry about—”
“Who else has been there to see her besides me? You said she had no previous visitors.” At the sharpness in my tone, Marcus jolts up straight, confusion marring his features.
She pauses. “I never said that. I said her parents have yet to visit her.”
“Answer my fucking question!” I slam my hand down on my desk, my anger exploding.
“Mr. Hawthorne. He doesn’t come for visits. He just signs in, stands outside her room, and watches like you did, then leaves. I think he just wants to see with his own eyes that she truly is here. And not anywhere near him. Just like most victims, it gives them a peace of mind.”
Anger simmers through my veins, and my stomach churns and tightens as I slowly process. He’s been visiting her this whole time. Chances are, he’s the reason she got into the altercation with that other patient. The same altercation that resulted in another brain injury.
“And you’re sure it’s Vincent Hawthorne?”
“I’m positive.”
“Kick him off the list. Do not let him near her. Understand me? I will pull the funding. I will ruin you. No one should be allowed to visit her but family.”
“What, why? I let you in. How is that any different than Mr. Hawthorne?”
“He is not there as a friend, believe me. He’s capable of many things. I’ll leave it at that.”
As soon as I end the call, Marcus is on his feet, concern written all over his face. “What the hell is happening?”
“Vincent. He’s been there. Visiting her this entire time.”
He shakes his head. “That’s impossible. Why would he…why would he be there to see Mackenzie? Unless—” His gaze shoots up to mine, his eyes widening. “You don’t think he’s…?”
I grip the edges of the desk, my fingers digging into the wood. “I think at this point, he’s capable of anything.”
We share a look that voices my biggest fears. I didn’t trust anyone anymore, and even though Marcus has proven himself, a part of me is still wary. Even at Dan’s insistence that Marcus is clear. Fact of the matter was, I needed Marcus as my inside man to find out the truth from the rest of the guys.
Snatching my phone off the desk, I dial Dan, telling him to bring the car around. I’ll be paying Vincent a visit, whether he likes it or not.