Page 94 of Twice as Forbidden

“Call Craig Stone. He’ll provide the answers you need. Anything else involving my son or Georgia, will go through my lawyer.” I turn to leave, but he calls after me.

“What do you know about a ledger that was stolen? Mrs. Hallstead claims your girlfri—Miss Price had access to it.”

“I don’t know, nor do I care. My concern right now is Georgia. If you’ll excuse me…” I pivot sharply and leave, shutting out the conversation—because nothing else matters until I know she’s okay.

***

The doctor just left, and the room is silent except for the beeping of machines. There’s been no change. He says he’s hopeful, but the doubt in his eyes tells a different story.

“My mom’s on her way now.” Lettie breaks the silence.

“Good.” I glance at Noah. “I had Sarah bring a fresh change of clothes and some toiletries. Maybe clean up a bit. We’ve both been in the same clothes since yesterday, and with the bloodstains, I can’t imagine what her mother will think when she sees us.”

“I don’t want to leave her.”

“You can’t look like that when her mother gets here. Do it. Now.”

He stands abruptly, pushing the chair back, and yanks the bag out of my hands. “Like it matters. A clean shirt isn’t gonna change anything,” he mumbles, exiting the room.

I release a long, tired sigh.

“Maybe you should take a moment, too,” Lettie says. “Out of the two of you, you’re looking a little more worse for wear,” she adds. “Just sayin’.”

I have no idea what I look like. I’ve avoided the mirror. It only serves as a reminder of what I’ve done. Flashes of Noah’s hurt, the blind rage in his eyes with each swing he took. If I’d allowed him to continue his beating, how far would he have gone?

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be back. If anything—”

“I’ll call immediately.”

“Thanks.” I nod and walk out, heading to the visitor bathroom. Once inside, I rest my hand against the sink, my shoulders slumped. I glance at my reflection and become overwhelmed with shame and disgust. I’ve made such a mess of everything. Destroyed the last remaining part of our relationship. There’s no coming back from this. The truth weighs heavy in my heart. Georgia is lying in that bed, fighting for her life over a twenty-year-long vendetta. I missed all the signs. I should’ve never allowed Vince into our lives.

If only I could rewind time. Tell Georgia to do what was right in the first place and hand over the damn ledger. Let go of the anger I’ve clung to all these years. None of it matters now. Not compared to the regret I’ll face if I lose her.

I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to clean up. When I return, Lettie is standing with the doctor and an older woman I presume is her mother. They look over at me, and I almost have to look away at the raw pain etched in her mother’s eyes.

“Mom, this is Mr. Blake, Noah’s dad,” Lettie introduces. I step forward and take her hand, noticing how small and fragile it is in mine.

“Maribel Price. I don’t know how to thank you for helping me see my daughter. I’ll find a way to repay you every cent. I can’t imagine—”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad you’re able to be with her. Are there any updates?”

“Nothing good, but nothing bad either,” Lettie answers. “Her oxygen levels appear to be good, which suggests there’s a chance she’s starting to breathe on her own. The next twenty-four hours will determine when they bring her out of the coma. He’s hopeful for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

“And then what?”

“We wait to see if she wakes up on her own.” The weight of her words takes over, and she collapses into her mother’s arms, sobbing. I glance at Noah standing rigid in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s barely holding it together. The anguish carved in his face cuts through me, but I don’t know how to make this better for him when I can’t pull myself out of my own dark thoughts.

“Noah, why don’t you and Lettie grab something to eat? I want to speak to Georgia’s mother alone.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You are now.”

“I said I’m not—”

“Your bullheaded attitude isn’t helping anyone. Let’s go,” Lettie snaps, storming out of the room. Noah watches her retreating figure, his jaw clenched, then reluctantly follows.

A brief silence hangs in the air as Maribel watches her daughter, the machines allowing her chest to rise and fall. She sighs, a deep regret in her voice. “This is my fault. I should’ve done better for them. My girls have suffered because of me.” She turns to me, her gaze full of sorrow. “My husband died of a heart attack when they were so young,” she continues, and I nod.

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