Page 110 of Reckless Hearts
My car starts to splutter like it’s reflecting my inner turmoil, choking and sputtering as it struggles to keep going.
I focus on my breathing, trying to steady it into a rhythm that will calm my heart and clear my mind enough to drive safely.
I want Marcus.
The need for him overwhelms me like a wave. I just want to talk to him, hear his voice.
It’s two a.m. in Los Angeles, but I know Marcus was attending the premiere of his co-star’s new indie film tonight. We had plans to talk after I got home from training.
Marcus’s erratic sleep patterns worry me, especially as he seems to now rely on prescription medication to knock him out when he wants to sleep, but right now, knowing he’ll be awake to answer my call feels like a lifeline. My hand shaking, I get my phone and call him.
“Hey, you,” Marcus says, his voice husky.
“My dad’s had a heart attack,” I blurt out.
“Oh my god, Seb.” The playfulness completely disappears from Marcus’s voice. “Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. He’s been rushed to hospital. I’m going there now.”
“Let me know as soon as you hear anything,” he says.
“I will.”
But I don’t end the call. Instead, I stay on the line, drawing strength from the sound of his breathing.
“What can I do for you now?” Marcus asks softly.
“Just talk to me. I need to drive to the hospital, and I need something to keep me from spiraling into worst-case scenarios.”
“Of course,” Marcus says.
So Marcus’s voice becomes my anchor as I navigate through traffic. He seems to instinctively know what I need, keeping up a stream of conversation about his day and Hollywood gossip that requires no response but gives me something to latch onto, keeping the worst of my fears out of my mind.
The car park is surprisingly full for this time of night. I finally squeeze into a spot between a ute and a compact car, my hands shaking as I turn off the ignition. For a moment, I just sit there, staring at the hulking shape of the hospital building as Marcus’s voice continues to wash over me.
“I’m here now,” I say finally, cutting through his sentence. “I better go.”
I want to keep talking to Marcus, but Saskia will be inside the hospital. And how would I explain to my sister why I’m talking to her best friend?
“I’m here if you need me. Anytime,” he says softly.
“I know,” I reply back just as softly.
I end the call and climb out of my car.
The automatic doors slide open with a hiss, releasing a gust of air-conditioned antiseptic hospital smell. My voice sounds distant and unfamiliar as I ask at the information desk about my father. The receptionist directs me to the cardiac unit on the third floor.
The elevator ride feels endless. When the doors finally open, I step into a hushed corridor. Muted beeps and murmurs float from various rooms.
I round a corner and find Mum and Saskia in a waiting area, huddled together on uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs. Mum’s face is pale, her eyes red-rimmed, and I’m struck by how old she suddenly looks.
Saskia glances up as I approach.
“Seb,” she says, her voice cracking slightly.
As I reach them, Mum stands and pulls me into a fierce hug. Over her shoulder, I meet Saskia’s eyes, and my own fear is reflected back at me.
“They’ve rushed him into surgery,” Mum says. “I’ve never seen him look so pale…”
