Page 98 of Any Means Necessary

He’s right, and I fucking hate it.

“Fine. I’ll make myself a damn sandwich,” I grit out, and I don’t miss how the harsh edges of his face soften in concern. I look pointedly at his hands, and he very reluctantly lets go of me. Taking a step back, he doesn’t go too far. His eyes are watching diligently as I walk to the kitchen and assemble a simple turkey sandwich.

Chapter Thirty-Six: Lexie

Gray is the ugliest color. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed before. Gray is drab, bleak, and depressing. Gray means questions that may never get answers. And I need answers.

I’ve walked these exact halls too many times to count, and I never once noticed. That gray is ugly. Gray chairs, gray fixtures, and a dingy gray linoleum floor. It does nothing to console, comfort, or create hope. It seems like I’m doomed to drown in a never ending sea of gray for the rest of my life.

Here I am, stuck in this dull, gloomy waiting room at Columbia Memorial Hospital, where I used to call home. The thought that Samantha is somewhere in this ugly gray building all alone is absolutely maddening.

I’ve given up on sitting. Instead my feet are wandering aimlessly along the row of hideous chairs, but I never stray very far. Callum sits in a chair silently, his attention only ever leaving me to very briefly respond to an email or a text. Roscoe had been on the plane too, but somehow he didn’t end up in this unbearable waiting room with us.

“Lexie.” Mia’s voice reaches me only seconds before she does. I barely have time to open my arms before she’s in them, pulling me into a giant hug. We embrace each other tightly, just her presence already helping to ease some of the weight off my chest. She lets out a harsh breath of relief heavily, causing tears to prick behind my eyes.

“Damn, one hug and I’m getting emotional.” My words are muffled by her hair, the tight, brown curls tickling my face. The sound she makes is half laugh, half sob. It’s a good two minutes before she’s finally pulling back to look at me. “Hi, bitch.”

“Hi bitch,” she repeats with a smile, brushing away a stray tear from fluttery lash extensions. “It’s been way too fucking long.” I’ve missed her gorgeous face, with her alert mocha brown eyes that see more than I want her to, and her full lips that deliver brutal honesty and always make me laugh. Her navy blue scrubs do nothing to hide her full hourglass figure, and her curls are pulled away from her heart-shaped face by a clip in a half updo.

“I know,” I agree. “I almost forgot how much prettier you are than me.”

“You’re such a liar. Damn, I miss you.” she grins. Her eyes look over my shoulder, focusing on something behind me. Lowering her voice so I’m the only one who can hear her, her tone shifts to approval. “Hot tattoo guy is right.”

Following her gaze over my shoulder, I turn to look at Callum. Our eyes collide, his gaze fixed solely on me. Even now, when I’m so angry that I can barely stand to look at him, the passion in his eyes sends warmth flooding through my veins.

Our six hour flight was spent in silence, the tension between us growing with every passing moment. Sitting in the waiting room wasn’t much better. The constant feeling of Callum’s eyes on me every waking minute just added fuel to the fire, causing friction dangerously close to bringing us to the point of destruction. Mia’s presence has only dampened the flame temporarily. But no matter how long it lasts, it’s a nice little vacation from the complicated whirlwind my life has become since moving to New York.

“This is Callum. I work for him in New York.” My matter-of-fact introduction has disapproval flashing in Callum’s eyes. His expression is unreadable, but I can still hear the question his eyes are practically spearing me with. How much longer do you think you can deny what’s between us? “This is my best friend, Mia.”

“Nice to meet you, Callum.”

“I wish it was under better circumstances.” He’s turned on the charm, his mask of calm back in place. His comment brings us back to why we’re here.

“How’s Samantha?” The words tumble out of my mouth a little too fast. Mia’s face grows serious with the expression I’ve seen her use for the families of patients. I have one of those looks of my own as a nurse. It’s fucking awful being on the receiving end of it.

Mia lowers to one of the chairs, motioning for me to sit next to her. Callum takes a seat across from me. “She’s in post-op. Her spleen ruptured, causing severe internal bleeding that we were able to catch. Her left femur is broken, she’s going to need surgery to get plates and screws. But she should recover fully without risk of paralysis. There was minimal swelling in her brain, but there’s no way to know the extent of her head injuries until she wakes up.” I nod, absorbing and processing the information that’s coming at me.

“So she’s going to be okay.” I don’t realize how much I need to hear her say it until she’s nodding.

“She’s going to be okay,” Mia confirms with a small smile. The breath that leaves me in a sigh of relief, happy tears pricking behind my eyes and a little bit of the weight lifting from my chest. I glance at Callum, getting caught in his gaze for a few long seconds. He sits silently, running a hand over his beard while he watches me carefully.

“When can I see her?” Pulling my focus from him, I look back at my best friend. Mia glances between me and the man across from us like she noticed our little moment—it’s something I’ll be hearing about later.

“As soon as she’s set up in her room you can go sit with her until she wakes up.”

“Oh thank god,” I sigh, the corset strings loosening around my chest ever so slightly. Samantha’s not out of the woods yet, there’s still so much up in the air until she wakes up. But she’s stable, and not paralyzed.

The sound of a phone ringing pulls my attention to Callum. He glances at his phone and stands up to excuse himself. When his eyes meet mine, the air between us is charged with everything going unsaid. “I have to take this.”

I nod to him, barely maintaining eye contact before turing back to my best friend. I can vaguely hear Callum’s deep voice answer the call while he walks down the hall in the search of some privacy.

“How long do you think it’ll be before Samantha wakes up?” I ask Mia.

“I really wish I had an answer to that, but there’s no way to be sure. It could be a few hours or a few days. We just have to wait and see.” Mia’s not telling me new information, I know that’s how brain injuries work. But somehow being on the patient side of it feels different—like maybe the rules don’t apply to this case. To my case.

“I’m so glad you’re here. You got here a lot faster than I was expecting. I thought it would take you at least a day to get tickets.”

“Callum has a private jet,” I explain, knowing exactly how wide I’m cracking open this can of worms. Some things just can’t be explained away, and this subject is something we’ll have to bring up eventually.

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