They disappear into her room and I swallow hard.
Fuck them.
Fuck all of this goddamned bullshit.
Chapter 4
Charlotte
“Oh, honey,” my mother coos as she runs the back of her fingers over my swollen cheek.
I was just about to fall back to sleep when my parents burst into my room like a herd of wildebeests. At least Xander had the courtesy to be quiet and wait until I woke up.
“Mom?” I mumble. It feels like there is cotton stuck in my mouth. I try to swallow but I’m way too dehydrated. I point to the pink plastic cup on the table next to my bed. Please let there be water in there.
My mother hands me the cup and helps me take a few sips. The icy liquid burns the back of my throat, but I don’t care.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. We both are.” My eyes finally flutter completely open and start to focus as my father’s broad frame becomes clearer.
“How are you feeling?” My father’s gruff voice breaks out. It’s forced. He’s annoyed to be here. He’s pissed that my accident ruined his workday. I can feel it radiating off of his tone.
“Like I got hit by a truck.” I try to laugh a little. If I couldn’t joke about it, what could I do? Both of my parents’ faces twist into disgust. Apparently, they didn’t like the joke. Was that it? Was I really hit by a truck?
“This is not a laughing matter, young lady.” The words rattle off in rapid fire like my father was just waiting for me to fuck up so he could scold me.
There it is. The Charles Hawthorne we all know and love, ladies and gents.
“Charles, please.” My mom looks at her husband with revulsion.
“Don’t please me! You do not get to tell me how to reprimand my daughter,” my father growls through gritting teeth.
“Now is not the time for this,” my mother barks before turning back to me. “Do you need anything, Charlotte?” My mother’s voice is soft with the slightest hint of panic building up in the background. Why is she acting like she cares? At least my father is acting like himself. I expect it. It’s real. But her? She’s faking it. She has to be.
“To sleep. They have me on a lot of medications. At least, I think they do. I haven’t seen a doctor or a nurse yet. I think I have been sleeping for the most part. Everything is just really foggy right now.” All I want is to be left alone. I don’t need them here. I don’t need to hear them bicker. They don’t want to be here, so why force the family obligation bullshit?
“All right. We'll try to track down your doctor and let you get some rest.” Her hand gently wraps around mine. “I love you, sweetheart.”
That was a first. At least a first in a very long time. Does it take almost dying to win my parents’ affection? Or at least my mother’s?
I replied back with the only socially acceptable response, “Love you, too.”
It was so foreign to me. Even on their warmest days, neither of the Hawthornes ever told me that they loved me. I am sure they said it when I was little, but not in any recent memory. And of course my father just stands there like a statue, devoid of emotion or concern for his only child.
“Let’s go, Charles.” My mother takes her husband’s hand, pulling him for the door.
They finally leave my bedside and I am free to sleep. A drug-soaked, dreamless slumber that was much needed and overly welcomed.
“What do you mean, she doesn’t remember? How can that be normal? She seems so confused and out of it!” My mother’s shrill voice breaks into my groggy state as I try to pull myself out of this daze.
“Memory loss and problems thinking after an auto accident can be a symptom of a more serious injury — traumatic brain injury. This is what happened to your daughter. Her memory of the accident and what followed will be gone or fuzzy for a while. In time, those memories should resurface. It’s a form of retrograde amnesia. It’s common and does not pose a serious threat to her.” My doctor is in the doorway talking to my mother.
“What?” I ask, trying to sit up.
“Charlotte, how’re you feeling this evening?” the doctor asks, walking over to me.
I shrug a little. “Not great.”
“Is there anything you can do for her? Help her be more comfortable?” My mother is pleading with the doctor to help me. Maybe it wasn’t an act. Maybe she is genuinely concerned for my well-being right now.
When my eyes focus on hers, I can see how bloodshot they are. Has she been crying?
“We have her on a heavy dose of medication for the pain. Other than that, lots of rest is what your daughter really needs. I’ll be back in a little while to check on you, Charlotte. Try to relax and let your body heal.”
“Will I be able to remember what happened?” I force the words out as a wave of pain washes over me. Sucking in a deep breath, my eyes slam shut. I feel a small hand land on my forearm.
“In time,” the doctor answers. “Most people who suffer from this type of brain injury have piece by piece come back slowly. There is a good chance that this will happen with you. Just give it time.”
Once the doctor exits the room, my mother laces her fingers with mine. “You’re going to be okay,” she breathes. “Thank God, you’re okay.”
Tears are streaming down her face. She’s sniffling. She’s blubbering. She’s completely breaking down.
“I am,” I mutter as my head falls back onto the thin pillow.
“I would not be able to survive losing you, too.” She shakes her head hard, chewing on her trembling lips.
Andrew. Flashes of my brother in the hospital flood my mind. How devastated my parents were. How it ripped them apart from the inside out. My heart tightens. She is being sincere. She does care. She is worried. It’s all coming back to her, too.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I tease, willing my face to twist into a smile. Even though my heart is breaking all over again.
“I should go call your father and let him know what the doctor said. He’ll be wanting to hear,” she sniffles, running her free hand down her face.
I can’t help the eyeroll. She might be worried about me, but Charles Hawthorne surely is not. If he was, he would still be here. Not back at the office, the only place I can assume he is right now.
Chapter 5
Xander
I pull into the gates of Ridgeview Prep, rage bubbling in my veins as I get closer and closer to the entrance. My head is in a million places right now, and my body wants to be in the one place where I’m not welcome.
St. Mary’s Hospital.
Not that I can admit that to anyone. Phoenix, for one, would write me off immediately, and the possibility of heading up my own business in Chicago would become even more of a fucking pipe dream than it has over the past few weeks.
I need to get my head on straight. I need to figure out why our known family enemy has his sights set on Charlotte.
We know what Moretti wants…to take down my family publicly by attacking our territories and showing the world that he has the power, strength, and balls to be boss. He’s always been pissed off that he was passed over when the old boss got blown away and my dad stepped into his place. He never thought my father was tough enough to grow the organization, but at least Dad managed to keep things running without a war, while Moretti ran through all of his cash like it was open season at a fucking brothel and he hadn’t gotten laid in a year.