Page 26 of Sweet (Chicago Underground 7)
His eyes were closed, the side of his white shirt stained black, but he was breathing. Faintly, barely—I pressed my ear right to his chest and clung there. And then a person was telling me they’re sending an ambulance.
Thank you, bless you, oh God.
Chapter Ten
The world was unnaturally quiet, as if someone had turned the volume down. I could still answer the cop’s questions, I could hear the nurse tell me no, they couldn’t share information with me, but it all came through a misty white haze.
I huddled on a wooden chair, staring blankly at a late-night talk show on the small TV. There was a cup of lukewarm coffee in my hands, though I couldn’t say where I’d gotten it.
If only he pulled through…if only, if only. I prayed to a God I was sure had turned his back on me a long time ago. In the end, I knew it would come down to a handful of luck, a toss of the die that would decide our fates. Easier to believe that than to blame myself.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I could have, should have prevented this. He was coming to see me, after all. If I hadn’t invited him over…if I’d never stripped for him at my window…then I would be trapped in my tower, but he would be safe.
Though I hadn’t examined every possible outcome, my fear had been consuming—and damned certain. Break free and something bad will happen. I just thought it would happen to me instead, and now I wished it had.
People came and went through the waiting room, as if they were on a subway: come sit down, wait awhile, then get up and leave. But I never left, barely ever moved, just went round and round the tracks, a dry and rattling husk.
Jarring footsteps clicked down the hall toward me, and Philip rounded the corner.
“Jesus, are you okay?”
Everyone kept asking that. I wasn’t even sure what okay felt like at the moment.
Luckily, Philip was a force of nature. He didn’t require my input to whip through the hospital wing and tear their official privacy procedures apart with his money and his threats.
In fifteen minutes, we had a doctor standing outside the doors telling us that Drew had come out of surgery in stable condition, that he would likely make a full recovery, that he was a lucky man. Those were his words: He’s a lucky man.
I sagged with relief even while my empty stomach heaved. Only Philip’s arm around my waist kept me from sinking to the blue speckled floor. Philip thanked the doctor and asked about visitation. When he woke up, and even then it would be severely restricted. One person at a time, thirty minutes each.
When the doctor left, Philip pulled me into a wonderfully painful hug. Tears sprang to my eyes. I threw my arms around his neck.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He frowned, as if the strangeness of the situation had just dawned on him. “But what…why are you here, anyway?”
Lies flitted through my head, some reasonable, some ridiculous. I was just asking his advice on the lease. We were planning a surprise party for you. Whatever.
I didn’t have the heart to lie anymore, and as much as I feared Philip’s reaction, I knew he wouldn’t really harm Drew, especially when he was already laid up in the hospital.
“Philip. There’s something else you should know. That crush you mentioned, it’s…” I searched for the right words, thinking of what he’d said about waiting for me to return those feelings. “Well, it’s reciprocal. In fact, you could say we’re a couple.”
He stared at me with an incredulous expression. “What exactly do you mean?”
I wasn’t about to spell it out for him. We’ve been having sex in your house. Never mind that we were both consenting adults. The fact that we’d felt the need to hide it was indictment enough.
Guilt had been a thick, jagged pill all this time, and now that he knew, it burned like acid in my stomach.
“He has feelings for me,” I said as neutrally as I could manage.
“And you return them.”
The flatness of his voice was more worrisome than yelling would have been. His eyes were cold, his jaw set.
Part of me had hoped all my worry was unnecessary, overkill, and he would accept my relationship with Drew with grace and forbearing as he’d done for my ballet studio.
But it was clear that he was pissed. Royally pissed. The only thing I could do was lay my cards on the table.
“I care for him a lot. This isn’t just… I think it’s serious between us.”
Philip laughed, a harsh sound. “That’s a lot of uncertainty. Which is it, are you serious or not?”
