Page 2 of Dominate
“I don’t know many details about what’s happened!” she exclaims, her voice rising in pitch. “The officer just said to come to the hospital straight away, but we’re stuck in horrible traffic. There’s some accident up ahead and we aren’t moving at all. This is a nightmare. I’m about to get out and run. The policeman wouldn’t even tell me the extent of Gareth’s condition. Only that there was a break-in with multiple injuries on scene.”
“Fuck,” I growl, a knot lodging in my throat.
“Dad, I’m scared,” Vi’s voice cracks. “He wouldn’t tell me if Gareth’s okay and that must not be good. What if—”
“Vi,” I bark, stopping her line of thinking. “Put one of your brothers on the phone.”
“Dad,” Vi blubbers. “It’s Gareth…He’s unbreakable, right?”
“Pass me to one of your brothers, darling,” I grind through my teeth.
There’s a muffled sound for a second before Camden’s voice cuts through. “Dad?”
“Camden, someone needs to help your sister. She’s breaking down.”
“Booker’s got her. He’s holding her.”
I sniff and squeeze my eyes shut. “Right. What hospital then?”
“Dad.” Camden’s tone sounds cautious. More than it was a second ago. “It’s Royal Trafford Hospital.”
My heart plummets to the floor.
Not that hospital.
Anywhere but there.
Camden adds, “It’s fine Dad. We’re on our way there. We’ll call you with updates.”
He knows my issues with hospitals. Camden suffered a knee injury over a year ago, and it took everything I had to walk through the doors of the London Royal Hospital where he had his surgery. But I managed because it is a hospital that doesn’t hold any memories for me.
Royal Trafford Hospital holds the worst memories of my life.
In the background, I hear my daughter crying. Full-on sobbing. I imagine Booker holding her against his chest, and the entire image brings back horrid memories.
“I’m coming,” I grind out, my hand already digging in my pocket for my keys.
“You’re what?”
“I’m coming,” I repeat a bit firmer this time.
“Are you…going to be okay?” Camden asks, his voice tense and disbelieving.
I nod confidently even though I don’t completely feel it. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when I land.”
I end the call without another word and stride out the door, punching the number to my secretary, Lilly, into my phone. I already have a jet on standby for a prospect I was going to meet with early tomorrow morning. That won’t be happening now.
It isn’t until I hit the motorway to the airport that I realise my hands have gone numb from how hard I’ve been gripping the steering wheel. When I loosen my fingers, the tremor in them is frightening.
I haven’t been back to Manchester in twenty-five years. Gareth was injured in a football game four years ago, and I still couldn’t bring myself to return to the city that haunts me with the memory of Vilma—the complete love of my life.
And Royal Trafford Hospital is exactly where my nightmare began.
8 Years Old
“GARETH,IWANT TO TELLyou about the time I fell in love with your father.”
Mum’s blue eyes look up at the ceiling as she lays her head back on the chair and stops writing in her journal.
