Page 17 of Saving Emily
I’ve never laid my eyes on the woman glaring at me in disdain, but from her narrowed glare and the furl of her thin lips, it’s clear she knows who I am.
Nick’s eyes roll skyward. “That’s Delilah.”
“The Ice Queen? No way.”
While chuckling about Delilah's infamous nickname, Nick makes his way to the door. The remainder of the band quickly shadow his retreat. Once they've joined Delilah in the corridor, I turn my gaze back to Noah. The happiness thickening my veins dissipates when I notice he's no longer tapping his fingers.
Apparently, even he was put-off by Delilah’s unexpected arrival.
12
Over the next several weeks, Noah's recovery follows a similar path as it did the first few days. The bruises on his face have healed, and the nursing staff removed the bandages wrapped around his head earlier this week. A deep gash runs down his forehead from the impact of the truck hitting the rear door of the taxi. It hit with so much force, the door crumbled inward, striking him hard on his head, which caused the significant split the doctors stitched back together.
Many times the past month, the specialists have tried to advise me that Noah was unconscious from impact. I know that isn’t true. He said my name when I arrived at the scene of the accident before holding his hand out for me when Ryan dragged me away from him.
He was extremely unwell but very much alert.
With his injuries extensive, the medical staff has kept Noah heavily sedated. They, along with me, want him to heal in comfort. I hate the idea of him feeling pain, so I often tell myself he's merely sleeping, and once he's well-rested, he'll wake up. I can't let myself think negatively as I don't want negativity to impact the baby growing inside of me.
Christmas Day, New Year’s Day, and my twentieth birthday came and went without much fanfare. My mom begged me to go home for Christmas, but I couldn’t leave Noah’s side. I tried to convince Jacob to spend the day with his dad and brother, but he’s as stubborn as he is large, so we spent the day together instead, eating the hospital's version of Christmas turkey and pudding. I’m reasonably sure it tasted as foul coming back up as it did going down.
This Christmas, the mood was more subdued than the previous Christmases I've spent with Noah, but I continually reminded myself that in time, he'll wake up, then we'll have a lifetime of Christmases with our baby.
Jacob and I have settled into a routine the past few weeks. Usually, I sneak into Noah's bed to sleep by his side, while Jacob dozes on the recliner next to his bed. I've been busted twice sleeping by Noah's side. The first nurse was graciously understanding. She merely smiled when she busted me slipping out of his bed, but the older nurse, the crankier one, told me, "A hospital isn't the place to be playing games." I swiftly removed myself from Noah's bed, only sneaking back in once her shift ended.
Since neither of us can stomach the idea of eating the hospital's version of porridge, each morning, Jacob purchases our breakfast in the hospital cafeteria.
This morning, Jacob has only been gone a few minutes before he arrives back at Noah’s room empty-handed.
“It’s all over the media,” he grumbles breathlessly while striding to Noah’s bed to grab the remote control off the side table.
“What is?” I respond, clearly confused—and hungry.
Jacob switches on the television hanging from the ceiling in Noah’s room. The story of Noah’s accident is breaking news on every station Jacob flicks past. The headlines all state the same thing: “Noah Taylor, lead singer of the band Rise Up in tragic accident.”
“Noah Taylor, lead singer of the band Rise Up, was reportedly involved in a serious traffic accident nearly six weeks ago. Reports originally indicated that Rise Up failed to fulfill their contract agreement with Summit Entertainment as supporting act in the concert series with the O’Reilly Brothers, as Taylor was admitted to Hills Hope Rehabilitation Center for a mandatory drug and alcohol program. We’ve since learned Taylor was en route to his first concert in San Francisco when his transport was struck by a semi-trailer, killing taxi driver Ben Ebbett. We’ve been in contact with Rise Up’s publicist Delilah Winterbottom, who has confirmed Taylor is currently in a serious but stable condition at Ravenshoe Private Hospital. We’ll keep you updated on his progress as we receive new information. Back to you, Kylie,” states a gossip reporter, who appears to be standing at the hospital entrance.
After switching off the television, Jacob’s eyes drop to me, his face showing his confusion. He nudges his head to the hallway, requesting for us to converse out of earshot of Noah. I readily agree, more than eager for Noah’s focus to remain on his recovery.
When I join Jacob in the corridor, he attempts to speak, but I beat him to it. “Why would initial reports claim Noah was in rehab?” I was shocked the gossip magazines weren't already covering the news of Noah's accident. Now I know why. “What benefit would anyone get pretending he has a drug and alcohol problem? It doesn't make any sense.”
“I don’t know what benefit they’d get, but I’m reasonably sure I know who did this.” When I peer at Jacob with wide, confused eyes, he does his best to settle my confusion. “Delilah has been calling nonstop. Her messages all focused on one thing: did I know Noah had a marriage license issued in his name?”
Jacob digs his phone out of his pocket before logging into his internet app. After typing Noah's name into the search bar, he hands his phone to me. "Every media source in the country is running the story of Noah's accident. Who's to say eight weeks ago, they weren't prepared to expose his plans to wed?"
I shrug, unconvinced. "I kept details of our wedding on the down-low."
“Marriage licenses are public record. It wouldn’t take an intern long to discover your plans, much less a publicist hellbent on keeping her star’s status as single.”
I stomp down my foot, seconds from having a tantrum. “You’re right. She was ropeable when Noah declared he was in love on MTV, so she’d do everything in her power to bury any stories on his plan to wed. But this...making Noah look like a drug addict. That's lower than low. We can't let her do this, Jake. We need to stop her."
“I think I know how.” The anger lining his cheeks fades when he asks, “Will you be okay if I leave you with Noah for a couple of hours?”
“Yes, I guess—”
He cuts off my agreeance by planting a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll be back in an hour. If anything happens, call me right away!” Jacob shouts while sprinting for the parking lot.
I’m surprised he wants to leave Noah’s side. He’s been adamant from the start he'd never leave. I can only hope he’ll get some sleep because he looks genuinely exhausted. I get a couple of hours each night snuggled next to Noah, but someone of Jacob’s size would have to be incredibly uncomfortable sleeping on a reclining chair that doesn’t fully recline.
