Page 169 of After Hours

The hospital room was filled with swirling particles of dust in the sunlight as I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair. It was my first time at this hospital, and it wasn’t under good circumstances.

Wrapping my ankles around the cold metal connecting the chairs, I held my mother’s hand tightly, staring at her lifeless face. The IV in her wrist pumped medications into her veins, puncturing her smooth skin. I didn’t want to cry, but my throat tightened as I gazed at her.

I wanted to hug her, cherishing every last moment. Just as I was about to pull away, Ronan walked in and said, “Azzaria, you have to leave the room now. They have to transfer her to the department for autopsy reports.” Seeing my tear-filled eyes and my swollen cheeks, he added, “But I’ll be here with you, and Dillon is on his way.”

I nodded and stepped out to the waiting area. My mother was dead. She wasn’t ready, and I hadn’t seen her live. It was way too soon.

Minutes later, Ronan exited the room. Seeing my frustration, he looked at me with his blue eyes and jet-black hair. He said, “Azzaria, we need to talk, but not here.”

I complied. Slowly, my eyes glued to the floor, I followed him out of the room and into an empty lab. I stared out the window and checked the clock from time to time to calm my anxieties. I was truly scared at that moment.

“Your mom has been sick for months, Azzaria,” Ronan began. “When she first came here, I didn’t know she was your mom. It was only when Dillon requested protection orders for you, her, and Abigail that I connected the dots.”

“You knew,” I said, my voice hoarse from tears.

“I did, but—”

“Ronan, you knew my mother was sick. My only parent. You knew she was dying for months and didn’t tell me?” My mind was reeling, and my heart was shattering. This couldn’t be happening.

“We weren’t close back then, and I was just doing my job. I was trying to he—”

“After that, we became close, and you still didn’t think to mention that my mother was on her deathbed,” I shouted, a vein standing out on my forehead.

He sighed, pacing around the room. “Dillon and I came to an agreement that—”

There was no way. “Dillon knew?”

“Dillon knew what?” I turned to see him walking towards me, fear on his face. “What’s going on, babe?”

“Did you know my mom was sick?”

“Baby, I—”

“I didn’t ask you that. Yes or no? Did you know?”

He looked down at his feet, confirming what I had already deduced. Everyone had been lying to me for months.

“You heard me talking about how sick she looked for weeks, and you didn’t tell me. You knew everything was happening and didn’t fucking tell me.” I was overwhelmed, unsure of which hurt more or what I was feeling at that moment. Betrayal because my best friend and boyfriend had failed to tell me about my mom’s sickness. Or hurt because she kept it a secret too. My mind was a blur, and I was numb. After all, she was dead now, and nothing mattered anymore.

“Baby, I’m s—”

“Get out,” I shouted, “both of you.” They looked at each other and sighed in sadness.

“Precious, let’s just—”

“Get out. I don’t want to see any of you right now.”

“I can’t leave you here,” Dillon protested, his fury building. “Not when you’re—”

“If you love me as much as you say you do, you’ll get the hell out of here.” That was the lowest blow I could deliver, but at that moment, it felt necessary. I knew that his love for me was the most important thing in his life.

I could understand why they hadn’t told me. They might have been afraid of my reaction, but I still had the right to know. Dillon had heard me express concern about how sick she looked and how worried I was about her, yet he let me believe everything was fine when, in reality, she was dying. And now, she was gone, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

CHAPTER 43

Azzaria

I always dreaded hearing about anyone’s death. However, when it happened to me when my mother passed away, I began to understand the pain that others felt when they lost someone they loved.

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