Page 60 of Weather the Storm

I comply without question, but Grant’s not so smart. He begins yelling all sorts of unintelligible shit and lunges toward Magnolia. Two officers swarm him, taking him back down to the ground where they cuff him, a knee pressed between his shoulder blades.

One of the cops begins to read Grant his Miranda rights as another escorts him out of the building, presumably to a cruiser.

I remain still, hands on top of my head, even though every fiber of my being begs for me to go to Magnolia. Unable to remain silent any longer, I plead with the officers that remain in the barn. “Please help her!”

For a few tense moments, I don’t think they’re going to listen, but then a team of paramedics files into the building, backboard and stretcher in tow. My body sags with relief, but the sensation is short-lived when one of them calls out that her pulse is weak.

Once they have Magnolia loaded up, they waste no time wheeling her out. I know she needs medical attention—lots of it, from the look of things—but not being able to go with her eats at my soul.

“Simon McAllister!” shouts a familiar voice, and I tilt my head toward the sound.

“Officer Byrnes!” Seeing him feels almost as good as seeing Grant in handcuffs.

“You can lower your hands,” he informs me, and I do, my arms burning from holding the position. “Benson and I were on another call when yours came through. I know you wanna be with Magnolia, but we’re gonna need you to come down to the station to answer a few questions.”

I want to argue with him, want to demand he take me straight to her, but I acquiesce and follow him out to his cruiser.

Down at the station, I swear a hundred different people ask me a thousand different questions. By the time they cut me loose, it’s pitch black outside, which means visiting hours at the hospital are over.

The late hour doesn’t stop me from texting Drake and asking him to pick me up though.

I post up on a bench outside the police station while waiting, feeling drained and drowsy. He pulls up to the curb only minutes after my call, and I hop in.

Drake takes one look at me and hugs me over the center console. “She’s all right, brother.”

“Is she?” I ask, no longer fighting my tears.

“Yeah, man—well, she’s gonna be. The girls are up at the hospital, have been since Seraphine received a call, what with her being listed as next of kin.”

It makes me feel better knowing she’s not alone, even if the girls are most likely stuck in the waiting room. Just knowing someone’s there is a burden off my chest.

“Let’s go get your truck, maybe get you a shower and a change of clothes, and then we can head on over.”

I inhale and hold the breath before releasing it slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” More than anything, I want to see with my own two eyes that Magnolia’s okay, but I know getting cleaned up is for the best.

After the world’s fastest shower, I’m dressed and out the door, pedal to the metal on the way to my girl. I whip my truck into a parking spot and charge into the emergency room, straight to the nurses’ desk.

“May I help—”

I don’t have time for this. “Magnolia Ellington. She was brought in a few hours ago via ambulance.”

“And you are?” the nurse asks. I know she’s only doing her job, but to the beast inside me, she’s merely an obstacle between me and my Goldilocks.

I feel a hand drop to my shoulder and whirl around, coming face-to-face with Seraphine. “Breathe, Simon. She’s gonna be okay.” I allow her to lead me to where our group is gathered.

“Tell me what you know,” I say, addressing the group, though really I’m speaking to Seraphine since she’ll probably know the most.

“So far, we only know the superficial injuries. The doctor estimates over forty percent of her body is covered in contusions, she has stitches in her lip, and there’s a long cut below her collarbone. They’re waiting on her X-ray results, and I think she’s getting a CT scan as we speak.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, tormented by what’s happened to my girl, but at the same time glad that her piece of shit husband isfinallywhere he belongs—behind bars.

Chapter Thirty-Three

MAGNOLIA

A strange sense of déjà vu washes over me when I blink myself awake, yet again in a hospital bed, the same horrible beeping ringing in my ears, the same disgusting smell of antiseptic filling my nose, and Simon McAllister hunched over asleep in the chair next to me, his hand resting on the edge of my mattress.

My head is already tilted his way, so I take my time studying him. His usual scruffy jaw is sporting a full beard, and even sleeping, he looks exhausted.

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