Page 22 of Ruptured
CJ agreed, but he didn’t want Mom to use that as an excuse when the time came and Rebel would end up crushed because Dad killed Diesel. “What does he need to do?”
“Diesel’s a drug addict, an alcoholic, a sex addict, and a chauvinist, so you tell me. What does yourbrotherneed to do to be worthy of yoursister?”
Oh, goddamn. Diesel needed a fucking personality transplant. “Did you have to put it that way, Mom? You could’ve said adopted.”
Mom glared at him.
“Please! You’ll be her only chance. If he gives up drugs, stops drinking as much, and can be faithful, will you help me with Dad on their behalf?”
“What do you know that you aren’t telling me?”
A lot. “Nothing.” He raised his right hand. “I swear,” he said and lowered his hand again. “And I don’t really want them together. I want her to find someone and him to be happy with whoever. I just want a contingency plan in place. It doesn’t mean I won’t try to steer them in a different direction, away from each other.”
“You do that, son,” Mom ordered. “And we’ll revisit this conversation when Rebel is twenty-one if the need arises.”
CJ kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
“But I’m warning you, if he crosses a line with her before then, if I don’t poison him, I’ll hire a firing squad for him. Am I clear?”
“Perfectly,” CJ said, laughing at Mom’s hyperbole.
Her stomach growled. “Can you have one of the guys get us French fries, hamburgers, and chocolate milkshakes?”
“For everyone?” CJ asked, his mouth watering.
Mom winked at him. “I don’t see everyone. Just you and I. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.”
Grinning, CJ got to his feet and rushed to do Mom’s bidding.
February 26th
Meggie stared at the ceiling of her hospital room, replaying the moment she saw Rebel in the pool. Lifeless and floating, Rebel’s blonde hair spread out in what almost became a watery grave.
Silent, bitter tears racked Meggie, and she covered her facewith her uninjured hand.
The door opened and Meggie lifted her head, expecting—needing—to see Christopher.
Kendall sailing in disappointed her. As always, her friend and sister-in-law wore her clothes like a model on a runway. Dressed in a simple silk blouse, jeans, and boots, she wore Versace eyeglasses and her red hair in a ponytail.
“Hi, honey.”
Meggie sniffled. Not even her physical pain compared to her devastation and worry about her daughter. Last night, she’d overheard her nurse and medical assistant discussing the doctor’s strategy. Apparently, Meggie had been sedated because the ER physician hadn’t wanted to deal with repercussions if the doctor upset Meggie. He’d thought the easiest route was sedating her and telling Christopher it was for her own good.
Meggie had a hard time not reacting. The two women thought she was asleep. They didn’t know she’d heard them musing how happy they were that the sedatives hadn’t raised her blood pressure and had, in fact, helped her. Luckily for Dr. Pritchard, whom the nurse and medical assistant found quite handsome.
He also would be quite dead if Christopher ever discovered what he did. Perhaps, it was a good thing Meggie hadn’t seen much of her husband since she’d become fully cognizant again.
Now, as Kendall sat her expensive handbag aside, Meggie’s pain returned.
“Hey.”
Kendall took the hand with the IV and clasped it. “Bailey and Zoann are working furiously to get Rule into a hospital. He may have to go out of state.”
“I don’t care.” She had a sprained hand, a sprained ankle, and cuts and bruises. She’d asked Dr. Will to downplay her injuries when Christopher received the report. Meggie wanted totell him herself so he wouldn’t go off the deep end. “Rule can go to hell.”
“You don’t mean that, darling,” Kendall said gently. “You care. Rule’s your son.”
Meggie blinked away her tears. “Who tried to kill Rebel and me.”
