Page 65 of Full Circle

It was such a hollow, bitter pill to swallow that I could actually taste the bile rising in my throat. All of these people were gonna go home to their houses after this without any change in their lives. Yeah, they’d probably say it was a bad day at work, but for them, it was a job. A way to earn a paycheck. For me, they represented the worst day of my life. I hated every single one of them with more intensity than I would have thought possible.

Desiree burst into the room, shrieking like a hyena. “You killed my husband!”

Using that magical verb had a ripple effect around the room. Two nurses flocked to her side and Willow materialized out of nowhere with a cup of chamomile tea meant to calm Desiree’s nerves. Dr. Hassan was apologizing profusely and explaining that he believed Daddy suffered a large stroke after returning to his room, how it was an unfortunate side effect with high risk surgeries, but they did everything they could. It was all the same pandering I heard after Mama died.

Wesley’s body barreled through the room like a bullet, colliding with Dr. Hassan and pinning him against the wall. Both of Wes’ hands wrapped around the doctor’s neck as he bellowed, “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAVE HIM!”

His hands were too tight for the doctor to reply. One of the nurses ran to the hallway and called for security while the other people in the room tried to pull Wesley off. Throwing one arm back when a male nurse tried to yank him off Dr. Hassan, Wes sent the man crashing into a medical cart while blood spurted from his nose from the impact.

With a bellowing roar reminiscent of a wildebeest, Wesley knocked over the room’s computer, breaking the top of the laptop away from the bottom, then grabbed Willow’s tablet and chucked it across the room at one of the windows. The screen shattered on impact, though thankfully the window remained intact.

I was too stunned to move, let alone cry. While I had seen every shade of Wesley’s temper, this was a rage so deep it was nearly black. He looked like an entirely different person, his hackles raised and his fists clenched to the point that the veins popped out on his hands. Never once looking at me, Wes tore from the room, the echoes of more items crashing ricocheting off the walls.

“How could he do this to me after I lost my dear husband!” Desiree wailed, draping an arm across her forehead and regaining the attention of most of the hospital staff. One of the nurses ran to an intercom on the wall and directed security to call the police.

“No!” I shouted. The threat of Wesley’s arrest broke through my detachment enough to run into the hallway. I was likely the only person who could calm him down.

Metal, plastic, and papers were everywhere. Several nurses were huddled together on the back wall behind the desk. Wesley acted like a cornered lion, screaming himself hoarse and swinging at anyone who dared get close enough. Three security guards were trying to trap him, their arms outstretched and ready. One sported a bloody nose, which may have been why none of them charged him.

Four police officers in tactical gear raced down the hallway, hands already on their holsters. They pressed forward, making the hospital security guards step back, and screamed at Wesley to put his hands up. Rather than complying or settling down, Wes turned around and tore a framed painting off the wall, then smashed it onto the floor. Glass shards shot out everywhere, causing all the officers to shield their eyes.

Wesley used this to his advantage and broke through their line to run for the elevators. All four cops and three security guards were immediately hot on his heels. The burliest one managed to gain on him enough to tackle him to the ground. Wesley reared his head back to head butt the officer. Blood spurted from the guy’s mouth as he swore every cuss word in the book.

After that, none of them were gentle with him. Two officers pinned Wesley’s head down while another sat on his legs. The cop who straddled him pulled Wes’ hands behind his back and cuffed them.

I found my voice and shot forward. “Please don’t arrest him, sir!” I cried. If my tears moved them at all, not a single officer showed it. “He’s just upset!”

One of the cops hauled Wesley up to a standing position. “He’s also a menace with a one way ticket to downtown.”

As I started to protest, Wes let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t worry, babe, I’m just doing exactly what good, ol’ Benny Madden would do.” There was only darkness in his eyes as he glared at me, and the tiny fraction of my heart that remained from my daddy’s death was pulverized.

“Come on, you!” One of the cops shoved him forward while a nurse quietly asked the security guard and the police officer with blood on their faces to sit down so she could help get them cleaned up.

Helpless. I was totally helpless. This was normally a situation where I would immediately go to Daddy to sort out. Quite frankly, I didn’t need Wesley’s jarring reminder that he was no longer with us—it was already a pain embedded in my DNA. As I watched the officers surround him to get onto the elevator, I saw fat tears roll down Wesley’s cheeks. Grief had finally introduced himself to Wesley Madden.

CHAPTER 28

SETTING THE WORLD ON FIRE

WESLEY

Cops really were a bunch of useless fucking pricks. Not a single one of them read me my rights and they all scattered like a cluster of cockroaches when they discovered who my father was. They still kept me in a jail cell where I could hear bits of a distant conversation about whether or not they were going to transfer me to a juvenile detention center. Apparently, the fact that it took four grown men to overtake me had them reconsidering…like the pansies they were.

It didn’t matter anyway because all I could see, feel, or hear was rage. This was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and I couldn’t stop picturing Mr. Hendricks on that bed. When Dr. Hassan didn’t give an update until frickin’ Desiree came into the room, offering an apology to the bitch who couldn’t even be bothered to be there while Celeste, his only daughter, got a front row seat to their failed attempts at revival, I just lost it. I had been bankrolling the operation for almost a goddamn year and they couldn’t even say something to me first?!

Celeste had to be losing her mind right now, and every fiber of my being yearned to go to her. What I said to her was unfair and watching her recoil like I slapped her was a memory that would haunt me forever. Our earlier argument seemed so stupid in comparison; of course she had been freaking out. We lost our virginity without any kind of protection—what teenager in this day and age was that reckless?

But I couldn’t regret our actions or even call it a dumb decision, really. Celeste and I were inevitable, as much as the Earth’s axis would turn and circle the sun. The love I felt for her defied logic and reason, so why wouldn’t our first time having sex be the same?

But I needed to get to her and fix it NOW. The longer I was stuck inside a jail cell, the longer her depression had to convince her my ugly words were true. I knew her well enough to know that she would believe them, especially when I had already delivered the sucker punch to the gut right after she got the wind knocked out of her from Mr. Hendricks’ death.

And if I were being honest, Doug’s death wasn’t something I couldn’t face. He was the first man I ever respected, someone I genuinely looked up to and loved as a family member. Fuck, in the few years I had known the Hendricks family, there had never been a time when he hadn’t shown up for me, hadn’t given me advice, hadn’t tried to talk me down off the ledge of fury I constantly found myself on. For all intents and purposes, Mr. Hendricks was my dad, too, and although I knew this day was coming, it hit me like the collapse of a brick building.

“WHERE IS HE?!” a voice roared. “WHERE IS MY SON?!”

“Here we go,” I muttered.

“YOU!” My father came into view, his black Tom Ford suit making him look every inch the villain I knew him to be. “What have you done, boy?!”

---