Page 103 of Keeping Kasey
I do know that, and while I haven’t decided exactly how I’ll be handling that situation, I don’t worry too much. It’ll work out.
It has to.
Because nothing is going to keep me from Kasey.
“That’s a problem for another day,” I say.
“I have a few ideas,” he says, and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.
It’s a short drive to the hospital, but I still speed the whole way.
The sooner we’re done here, the sooner I get back to my girl.
When we arrive, James and I maneuver through the halls, following a nurse to Ford’s room. We come to one of the many sterile suites, and she offers a respectful nod before leaving.
A weeklong coma has left Ford looking like little more than skin and bones. His eyes are sunken, his skin translucent, and he can barely sit up. The doctor said it’ll be another week before he can get out of bed by himself, and he looks like it.
Although right now, his eyes are wild as he stares at the laptop in front of him.
“Where did you get that?” I ask, snatching it from him. “You’re not working until you’re cleared. Are you insane?”
He gives me a look that makes me think he is.
“Wait,” he says in a dry voice, reaching for the laptop but wincing before he can get it.
“Woah, careful,” James says, stepping toward Ford with placating hands. “What is wrong with you?”
“Music,” Ford says with a strained breath. “Put some music on.”
James and I share a look.
“Maybe I should go find the doctor,” I offer.
“Don’t.” Ford takes a deep breath and lowers his voice to a whisper. “She could be listening.”
Any confusion turns to wariness.
Ford’s not an eccentric person. He’s not irrational or unreasonable. He doesn’t entertain hysterics.
So, even now, when he’s hopped up on pain medication after a week in a coma, I go with my gut and trust him.
I nod to James, who pulls out his phone and plays a classical song—an Italian aria our mother used to play around the manor. The music fills the room, and we crowd closer to Ford.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s Kasey,” Ford says. “She’s one of the traitors.”
My entire life, myonlypriority has been my family. What I want has never mattered—if it was best for the family, it’s what I did.
But right now?
I want to strangle Ford with my bare hands for eventhinkingthe accusation.
James must see this because he steps forward, just barely putting his body between mine and Ford’s.
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“I heard something after I was shot. It didn’t make sense when you told me that Brandon tried to assault Kasey, so I assumed my brain made it up. But it didn’t.”
