Page 59 of Trusting You
I wasn’t going to argue with her. I was in no state to be behind the wheel right now.
She held my hand as we made our way down the stairs. I caught a glimpse of her beautiful face, and just the simple act of her touch grounded me, keeping me calm and levelheaded. “He’s getting medical attention. We just need to get you there,” she said.
My mind and body were reeling from the whiplash. One of the best nights of my life had morphed into one of the worst. My mom, dad, and two brothers were my world. We were the Quinns, and aside from the woman holding my hand right now, there was no one on earth I loved more. The helplessness and fear consumed me. I was conscious only of her firm grip on my hand as we walked to where my car was parked.
No sooner had we pulled onto Main Street, than we were confronted by the street closures for the festival. The entire downtown area was closed off, and we had to get to the other side of town where the hospital was. I started to panic.
Cece squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle this.”
She drove up to the next intersection where a police officer was stationed. She rolled down her window.
The cop peered into the car. It was late and I couldn’t make out his face. When he got closer, I let out an audible “oh shit.” It was Marcus Flint. There was no way that asshole would help us.
Cecelia turned on a megawatt smile. “Officer Flint. So great to see you,” she purred.
“Hello, ma’am, this street is closed for the festival. What can I do for you?”
Cecelia placed her hand on his forearm that rested on the windowsill. I wanted to get out and punch him for even being in close proximity to my woman. I hated this guy.
“Well. Captain Quinn had a heart attack. I’ve got to get Liam to the hospital as quickly as I can.”
Flint gazed at me in the passenger seat. “I’m so sorry to hear that, man.” He turned his attention back to Cece. “Say no more. Let me see what I can do.”
Then, the most extraordinary thing happened. He grabbed his radio and started talking to the other officers. He came back to the car and leaned in. “Okay. Take the next right onto Spring Street. Officer Mitchum will meet you there in his cruiser. He is going to escort you to the hospital.”
“Oh my God, thank you!” Cece gushed.
“No problem, ma’am. Liam, I hope your dad is okay.”
“Thank you.”
Huh. That was weird. I was too dazed thinking about my father to realize that Marcus Flint actually just did me a favor. I guess it was just another bullet point on my list of crazy today.
32
Cecelia
We gotto the hospital in record time thanks to an assist from the Havenport Police Department. Officer Mitchum put his sirens on and led us through town at high speed. I was going to have to bake some thank you muffins and drop them off at the police station this week.
We got to the ER and found Mrs. Quinn slumped in a chair next to Callum while Declan paced around the waiting room like a feral animal.
Liam looked dazed. I squeezed his hand.
“What’s happening?”
“They just took him to surgery.”
“So it was his heart?”
Mrs. Quinn looked up with tear-filled eyes. “Yes. The doctor didn’t say much. Just that they needed to operate before his heart sustained too much damage. Those wonderful EMTs gave him CPR.” She could not contain her tears and began to weep. Growing up, Mrs. Quinn was always a very stoic woman. Seeing her like this, so small and frail and scared, broke my heart.
Liam walked over and embraced his mother. Callum put his arm around them and then Declan came in and completed the family hug. It tugged at my heartstrings to see the four of them so scared yet drawing strength from one another.
I vividly remembered what it was like going from a happy family of four one day to being a grieving family of three the next. I sat down, not wanting to call attention to myself. This was the same ER where we sat after my dad’s accident. With the same flickering fluorescent lights and the same ripped pleather couches. Where we waited and waited for any crumb of information we could find.
We were sitting down to dinner when we got the call. I was a moody thirteen-year-old going through my goth phase, and I remember painting my fingernails black at the dinner table while my mom made dinner and asked us about our days. My dad had been driving home from work when his car was T-boned at a stop light. The other driver was drunk and unharmed. They were trying to stabilize Dad, but he had lost a lot of blood.
My mother sat on that couch with my head on her lap for almost two days. I was thirteen, but I curled up in mom’s lap like a baby. I remember my grandmother coming and trying to take us home, but we refused to leave. We refused to give up hope. Sitting in this room eighteen years later, I could still feel the numbness that consumed my body. Sometimes, I would sleep in a weird position and I would wake up and my arm was numb. Sitting in the waiting room, I remember feeling that numbness throughout my body. I couldn’t move, couldn’t walk. I could barely get up to go to the bathroom. It was like every cell in my body shut down. Grief shut me down.
