Page 41 of Every Broken Piece
“Then find out!” I shout the words and Jack flinches.
She was attacked on Saturday night. Her company found our texts on Sunday, which means they fired her while she’s in the hospital. Or...
No. I won’t let myself go there. I won’t think the worse—that she didn’t survive—until I know more.
Fear and anger force me forward until I’m fisting Jack’s shirt and am in his face. “I need to know if she’s...”
“As of Sunday morning, she was in serious condition at University Hospital.” He doesn’t try to pull away, just stands there while I twist his shirt and hold him still.
“Find out.”
He nods once and I let go, stepping back. “I need to go to her.”
“I’ll go with you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and we both can’t be away from the company.” I pray to God that I’m not flying out there to attend a funeral. “I need you to stay here. For the company and for Pax.”
“Pax will be fine.”
“I need to do this on my own.”
His eyes tell me he doesn’t want me to go alone, but he nods anyway. “I chartered a plane.”
For years Jack and Pax have been bugging me to buy a corporate jet, but I always said no. I’m not one of those executives that turns their noses up at flying commercial. Personal jets are expensive and pretentious. Now I wish I had my own jet.
“Thank you and I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Jack squeezes my shoulder. “It’s not the same, brother. This isn’t Cara all over again.”
No, it’s not. Cara was my wife, the mother of my child, my one love. Tess is... Tess is different.
Chapter twenty-five
Gabe
Thanks to Jacob, a rental car is waiting for me by the time I land in Cincinnati. The new VA’s not half bad, but he’s no Tess. I may have been overly harsh with him, and I’ll apologize later. But I really want Tess back.
Or maybe I just want Tess in my life any way I can get her.
I’m walking through the doors of University Hospital by dinnertime and head straight to the visitor’s desk. Jack forwarded an article he found in theCincinnati Enquirerdetailing Tess’s assault. It’s a stretch to say there were details because there weren’t. Just that a Theresa James was assaulted at the Rusty Spur on Saturday night and taken to University Hospital where she remains in serious condition.
Serious. Not critical.
I keep reminding myself of that.
That was as of Saturday night. It’s now Monday night. I know, better than anyone how much things can go downhill in forty-eight hours and that's why the shadows of my memories follow me through the hospital doors. Jack hasn’t gotten back to meyet about her injuries. I try not to be pissed about it. Maybe he’s finally found the one firewall he can’t break. More than likely he just doesn’t want to tell me and that scares the shit out of me.
“I’m here to see Theresa James,” I tell the older woman at the desk with a plastic name tag that says Martha.
As Martha taps on her computer, commotion to my left draws my attention. A woman’s standing toe-to-toe with a hospital security guard, grinding a bony finger into his chest. He’s impassively staring her down, unmoving and stoic. She’s the type of skinny that indicates a hard life of alcohol or drugs. Her overprocessed blonde hair is short, thin, and scraggly, her sallow cheeks sunken. She looks like she’s in her sixties, but more than likely younger than that.
“She’s my daughter,” she says loud enough for me to hear. “I have a right to see her.”
Another guard walks up and the two men confer while the woman tries to force herself between them, dividing and conquering, but they’re having none of that and sidestep her. She retreats, then advances, circling one way, then the other, almost like a boxer looking for an opening.
“You can’t keep me from my daughter. I have rights, you know. Where’s your supervisor? Where’s the chief?” Her voice gets louder and shriller with each demand.
On the other side of the desk a young woman with short brown, pixie-like hair watches the exchange. She bites her lip, her brows drawn in concern as she slides closer to me. Is she the daughter in question? Probably not or the crazy woman would be making a beeline for her.
