Page 59 of Sweet Chaos
“You’re not going to lose her, Dylan. She’s going to be fine. You’re going to be an uncle soon. Everything is going to be okay,” I assured him as the elevator doors opened and we waited for a few people to get off before we stepped inside. We rode to the fifth floor in silence and followed the signs for the Patient Check-In desk. The fifth floor was decorated in blond wood and celery green with brushstroke paintings on the walls. It was calming and serene, the space open and airy, and looked more like a hotel than a hospital.
My plan was to leave Dylan in the waiting area while I checked at the desk for news. If the nurses got one whiff of his whiskey fumes, they might pass out or send him home. A few people cast curious glances at Dylan as he swaggered over to a seating area. His shin crashed into the coffee table and he cursed and kicked it. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he sent an upholstered chair flying. It crashed on its side, the sturdy wood frame still intact, thank God.
What was wrong with him? I righted the chair and gritted my teeth as he plopped down in a seat and massaged his temples with his tattooed fingers.
An older woman, her purse resting on her lap, ankles crossed, scowled at his obvious drunken state.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, showing up here like that,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him. She was wearing a lavender twinset and pearls, her graying brown hair swept into a smooth chignon.
Dylan barked out a laugh and gave her the middle finger. “That’s how much your opinion matters to me.”
Oh my God.
Her jaw dropped. “I should have you removed from this waiting area.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Dylan said, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back against the wall like he needed it to support him.
The woman stood up in a huff and cast another dirty look at him before she scurried away toward the Patient Check-In Desk. “Wait,” I called after her. I deserted Dylan and chased after the lady, catching up to her before she reached the desk. “Please. He’s just… he’s not usually like this. He’s—”
“An abusive drunk.” She pursed her lips and wrapped her arms around her purse which she held against her chest as if she needed the protection.
“He’s not abusive.” Okay, well, he had just verbally abused her, but he wasn’t an abusive drunk in the sense that she was implying. “Please. Just…” I looked over my shoulder. Dylan was asleep, his head lolling to the side, the picture of innocence. Or as innocent as a tattooed bad boy dressed in black from head to toe could look. “He won’t cause any more trouble.”
Knowing I couldn’t make that kind of guarantee, she gave me a skeptical look. “Take it from me, honey.” She patted my arm. “Boys like that will only break your heart.”
Having delivered that sage advice, she returned to the waiting area but moved to a seat on the opposite side of the room. Crisis averted, I let out a breath of relief and checked at the desk. There was no news of the Wilder baby yet, so I returned to my seat next to Dylan and scrolled through my phone for a while. Feeling his eyes on me, I turned my head to look at him. Under the hospital lights, he looked even worse. Like he hadn’t slept in days.
“What happened to you, Dylan?”
He ignored my question and pulled my hand into his lap, his much larger calloused hand engulfing my smaller one and I stared at our clasped hands, our interlaced fingers, and tried to make sense of this. But I couldn’t.
Boys like that will only break your heart.
How right she was.
I needed some air and some space, and he needed to sober up quick. What would Shane and Remy think about him turning up drunk like this? Coffee. I needed to get him some coffee. He’d still be drunk but at least the caffeine might make him more awake when he heard the news.
Decision made, I stood up. “I’ll go and get you some coffee.”
“You gonna leave me, Starlet?”
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Everyone leaves,” he mumbled. His eyes closed again, and I watched him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what was going on with him, but I had no idea what went on in that big brain of his. He was an enigma. A jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. A bad boy who was going to trample all over my heart if I let him get close again. From now on, I needed to keep him at arms-length. No sex. No kisses. No intimate moments on rooftops or in speeding cars or anywhere else.
I took a deep breath and walked away in search of coffee.
22
Scarlett
“I’ll come back to pick you up in the morning,” I said when I pulled into Dylan’s driveway. Shane and Remy had a boy. But we didn’t get to meet him. Not in the state Dylan was in.
“Stay,” he said.
One word. A command. He hadn’t even remembered calling me for a ride to the hospital. Zero recollection of it. So no, I wasn’t going to stay at his house and submit myself to more torture. I’d done my part by helping him out and that was as far as I could go.
“I’m going home. I’m tired. You’re tired. I don’t have any clothes at your house—"
