It’s been radio silent.
Until earlier this afternoon. While I was at the grocery store, when Baz was at work, I swear I saw Trent. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things or if it was my imagination playing tricks on me, but it was enough to trip me up. That wasn’t what had me so angry. It was the fact that Baz seemed to know everything about the Savages while he left me in the dark.
Whenever any of the Savages are in the equation, it always feels like there’s an ocean between Baz and me. He purposely keeps things from me, because he thinks he’s protecting me, but really, he’s just making me even more frustrated and paranoid. The secrets make me want to dig deeper and uncover the truth.
I knew he was keeping secrets again when he canceled his day with us tomorrow. He said he had a meeting with someone, but when I asked who, he refused to give me an answer. That’s left a strain on us the entire day. My brewing anger only grows to new heights when he leans toward Ava and the project she’s working on. The set is beautiful, heavy clay pottery bowls with paint for her to decorate.
Baz’s phone vibrates on the table, and I glance down at the screen absently, my entire being going on red alert when I read the name that flashes there.
Vincent.
My heart jerks to a grievous halt, and my gaze shoots to Baz who’s still talking to Ava, completely unaware of what I just saw.
“Sebastian. Can I talk to you for a second?”
Slowly, Baz shifts, sparing me a glance over his shoulder. His brows are drawn in, questions floating in his eyes. I don’t bother waiting for him. I shoot up from the couch, heading down the hallway, toward my bedroom.
With my hands resting on my hips, I begin pacing the floor, trying to rein in my anger and fear. I need to be calm and levelheaded when he gets in here, so we can have a decent conversation about—
As soon as Baz shuts the door behind him, all those thoughts are forgotten, and I’m fuming.
“Who is your meeting with tomorrow? And don’t you dare lie to me.” His lips press together, but he doesn’t answer me. That in and of itself is answer enough. “It’s Vincent, isn’t it?” I scoff, tossing my hands in the air and letting them fall back to my sides helplessly. “You want me to trust you. Yet, you’re damn near asking me to put my daughter’s life in jeopardy when you’re still in clear contact with a man who tried to murder me!”
Baz’s gaze shoots to the door. “It’s not what you think. I can’t bring this up to you or talk to you about it because you act like this. You act craz—” He snaps his mouth shut, but his words are still felt like a blow to my chest.
Sniffing back the sudden pressure in my nose, I cross my arms over my chest. “If you think I’m so crazy, then why are you here? Why bring Ava into my life? Why get me out of there if you truly believe I belong there?”
Baz pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a frustrated sound. “That came out wrong. I don’t think you’re crazy. But the subject of the guys, the mere mention of any of them, including Marcus, sends you into a tailspin.”
“They killed my sister!” I snap. Jutting my finger out, I take a threatening step forward, and my heart drops when I hear the scream. It’s not one of those screams that is used when playing around. It’s real, filled with pain and fear.
Without sparing Baz another glance, I run from the bedroom, down the hall, and back into the living room. My feet skid to an abrupt halt, just over the threshold, as I stare at Ava. There’s blood. So much blood. I place a trembling hand over my stomach and try to stop the sudden bout of nausea. I’ve never been good around blood, least of all not after my accident.
Baz jumps into action while I stand there, frozen in place, ice filling my veins. Taking a bleeding and crying Ava into his arms, he applies pressure to the wound on her head. My body, still thoroughly stuck in shock, won’t allow me to move forward and be productive. Baz barks at me, telling me to grab the keys and start the car. That’s the only thing that snaps me out of it. I hit the corner quickly, scrambling to find my purse and car keys.
Snatching them off the end table, I run outside, leaving the front door wide open and throwing open the driver side door and starting the car. Baz and Ava follow closely after. He’s cradling her against his chest, as he climbs into the back seat, a towel and his hand applying pressure to the slit in her head.
“Drive to the hospital.”
I pause for another long moment, as I stare at Ava’s sobbing form.
What have I done?
They’re never going to let me keep her.
How did I ever think I could take care of a child?
“Drive, Mackenzie!” Baz shouts, snapping me out of my fear-induced trance again.
The drive is thirty minutes long. Thirty minutes too long from my house to the hospital. I pull straight up to the emergency doors, allowing Baz to carry Ava out of the car, before I pull off, looking for a parking spot and trying to control myself.
I’m not usually this skittish or idiotic when it comes to someone with a serious injury. But seeing someone I love? Someone I’m supposed to protect? It tripped me up. It’s fucking with my head, and the only thing I can think about is losing her. Losing Ava. Either to the loss of blood or to the state. They’ll see I’m an unfit mother, and they’ll take her from me. They’ll take my one piece of happiness. My bright light in all this darkness.
Steeling myself, I walk into the emergency room, scanning the area, and I’m not surprised when I find Baz carrying Ava over by the admissions desk. Sucking in a lungful of air, I step up behind them and close in on her, needing to see that she’s okay. Her beautiful little lashes fan her cheeks when they flutter open, and she stares at me with tears glimmering in her eyes. I sniff back the pressure in my nose and take a step closer to Baz and her.
“Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart. I promise.” I rub my hand along her arm, needing to feel the warmth of her skin beneath mine, just so I know she’ll be okay. The doors leading into the back exam rooms open, and with a scowl on his face, Baz trudges through with Ava, and I follow closely.
Placing her onto the patient bed, he takes the seat closest and keeps the pressure to slow the bleeding. The towel is soaked with blood already, and I may not be a doctor, but even I know that isn’t normal. Some pressure to the wound should at least be slowing it down, but it doesn’t seem to be helping in her case. An older man in a white lab coat pulls back the curtain and stops just bedside the bed.
“What seems to be the problem today?” the doctor asks, taking a step toward Ava.
“I-well…” I pause and then frown, not really sure what happened. One second, she was fine, painting in the living room, and then the next, she was screaming and bleeding everywhere. Once again, a better mother would know what happened to their child. But, of course, I don’t.
Baz picks up my slack again. “There’s a glass coffee table in the living room. Ava must’ve been playing, cracked the glass, and cracked her head.”
“Let’s have a look.” The doctor takes over for Baz, removing the soaked towel, and blood spurts. He quickly covers it back up. “That’s quite a lot of blood for a cracked head. Let me gather my nurses, and I’ll be back. Does she have any allergies by chance? Any blood disorders? The flow should at the very least be slowing down by now, but that doesn’t seem to be the case here.”