Page 27 of Deacon

“Miss, can you tell us your name?” Someone says an unknown time later, but my vocal cords are frozen to the roof of my mouth, preventing me from speaking. “We’re gonna get her to the hospital because her blood pressure is extremely high.”

Someone is directing me somewhere I’m unable to determine before assisting me with sitting, and I begin involuntarily moving quickly.

“Call Ro-Robyn,” I whisper in a raw timbre.

“Oh my God. Are you okay, Janelle?” Tinker Belle rushes into the room with Deacon on her heels. Her eyebrows draw together, and fear flashes in her orbs when she runs to bed.

Unable to answer, my gaze shifts to Deacon due to the instantaneous shift in the atmosphere once he’s fully in the room. Deacon’s caramel skin appears flushed, and his hands clench and unclench with every step he takes toward me. Deacon’s eyes, if possible, are darker than usual and threateningviolence, and the vein in his neck seems to be straining against his skin.

Oh shit, Deacon is about to lose his shit.

“Janelle.” Mom’s voice pierces the air, causing me to pull my gaze from Deacon to the entrance.

My parents quickly enter my room before stopping short when their eyes fall on Deacon. Deacon stands at the foot of my bed, looking like an impenetrable bodyguard.

“Young man, is there a reason you’re staring at my daughter like I need to give you a reason to be in this hospital?” Dad asks.

*beep, beep, beep*

The monitor on the right side of the bed begins blaring, causing me to close my eyes while attempting to regulate my heart rate.

“Looks like we have a house full. Hello, folks. My name is Dr. Wilson, and I’m one of the ER doctors here,” I hear, allowing me to open my eyes to see the doctor entering the room.

“Hey, Doctor. We’re Janelle’s parents. Why is my daughter here?” Mom asks the doctor, momentarily shifting the tension while everyone, including me, waits for the doctor to respond.

“Ms. Stephens was brought in because the paramedics stated that she was unresponsive and suffering from an extremely high blood pressure reading. It seems as if Ms. Stephens is alert now. However, I’m admitting Ms. Stephens for the night because her blood pressure hasn’t come down, which is concerning for someone her age,” Dr. Wilson says.

“High blood pressure?” Mom’s face twists and a frown appears.

“How in the world does a twenty-eight-year-old woman come into the hospital for blood pressure issues that didn’t exist before?” Dad asks, looking between Dr. Wilson and me.

My body temperature rises at the reminder of what led me to this present predicament, and the monitor blares again. My pulse races wildly, and I close my eyes, praying for the ability to hide.

“While I’m unsure what’s causing Ms. Stephen’s current issues, I also can’t allow her to go home like this either,” Dr. Wilson says.

Feeling hands on my covered feet, I open my eyes to see Deacon staring intently with varying expressions flashing in his orbs. The comfort of his touch allows me to exhale the air consuming my lungs while settling my spirit simultaneously.

“Chill, I got you,” Deacon mouths, and I nod wordlessly.

“What’s good, Tinker Belle?”I say, answering my phone after a third incoming call comes through.

“You need to meet me at Shadow Stew Memorial. Something is going on with Squeak.”

Time stands still, and my heart stalls for seconds while my brain registers Tinker Belle’s words.

“Say less.”

Somebody is dying tonight.

My mouth is dry from rushed breathing, and adrenaline courses through my body, causing an edgy feeling. Tunnel vision and the need to lay eyes on Squeak had me arriving at the hospital within fifteen minutes of receiving Tinker Belle’s call. We must have been on the same wavelength because TinkerBelle and I almost collided while trying to enter the room where the front desk attendant said Squeak was. Seeing Squeak lying in the bed had murderous thoughts running rampant in my mind. Only the entrance of her parents stopped me from uttering a word, yet my focus didn’t leave Squeak.

“Honey, what’s going on?” Squeak’s mother asks once the doctor vacates the room.

My hands have been caressing Squeak’s feet since the machine started blaring for a second time since my arrival. Calming her is somehow allowing the inferno building within me to slightly slimmer. The energy in the room is tense from Squeak’s parents shooting daggers toward me. Informing them of who I am isn’t important to me because my concern is the woman lying in a bed that isn’t mine. The discomfort and faraway gaze in Squeak’s eyes isn’t sitting well with me, making her parents unworthy of conversation at the moment.

“I want to know the answer to that and for someone to tell me who this nigga is,” Squeak’s father says.

“Um—hey, Mom and Dad,” Tinker Belle greets hesitantly, causing Squeak’s parents to shift their focus to her.

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