Page 99 of Any Means Necessary

“Of course he does. Hot tattoo guy would have his own plane.” She reaches up to reclip her mess of curls back from her face. Her hair has gotten longer since I’ve last seen her, the tight ringlets reaching past her collarbone.

“Yeah, I guess I’m lucky he was willing to bring me,” I reply vaguely.

“Speaking of Callum, what’s going on between you two?” Mia asks intuitively. She has no idea how loaded that question is. There are so many different ways to answer, but all of them result in more questions that I can’t answer. Not honestly, anyway.

“It’s nothing.” I hate to lie, especially to Mia, but the truth isn’t an option. She flashes me a dirty look, the one telling me she’s about to call me out on my bullshit.

“Did you really just lie to me like that? Even a blind idiot could see the way you two look at each other. Not to mention the fact that he can’t seem to take his eyes off you.”

“He’s just like that.” I’m cherry picking now, and Mia knows it. Shit, she’s known me too long.

“So you’re seriously trying to tell me nothing has happened between you and Callum?” It’s basically impossible to lie convincingly to someone who knows you better than you know yourself. There’s really no point in trying to keep this up. I’ve got to give her something.

“We’ve had sex,” I admit. Her face lights up like a child on christmas at the nugget of info, before her brown eyes narrow at me.

“I knew it! How many times, more than once?” I knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with that one vague bit of info. The girl is addicted to gossip and finding out all the juicy details. Details I would usually tell her before I met Callum and signed that damn NDA.

“More than once.” I really can’t get into this with her right now, if ever.

“Damn, girl. I knew there’s something with you and him. He hangs on your every word. It must’ve been a good more than once. And he’s hot too.” Mia’s both scolding me and giving me props. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you?”

“It’s complicated.” Tip of the fucking iceburg.

“You haven’t been telling me a lot of things lately,” she says, getting worked up. “Look, I’m not enough of a bitch to try and have this conversation right now. But we are going to talk before you leave—starting with why you never came back from New York.” Mia wants answers, and she does deserve some sort of explanation. I just need to figure out what I’m going to tell her.

What I can tell her.

“Okay.” I agree. “We’ll talk.”

“Good.”

***

My sister looks completely different. Outside of the bruises and swelling, she cut her hair to her shoulders and dyed it black. Samantha has always kept her golden brown hair long and wavy. As surprising as this new hairstyle is, it’s good to see her making changes.

Since she’s a few years younger than me, she was stuck in my parents’ house alone for a while after I moved out. It’s been a long process for her, but she’s slowly getting past the trauma from our upbringing. This haircut is one step closer to her finding herself.

They had to remove all of her jewelry before surgery, but there are multiple gold hoop earrings in various sizes in the bag of personal items Mia gave me when I sat down at Samantha’s bedside. I also recognize a dainty gold septum piercing in the same bag. It hasn’t been that long since we last talked, but she’s turned into a bad bitch since the last time I had her on video chat.

It’s almost five hours of waiting before Samantha’s eyes flutter open. I straighten in my chair, pressing the nurse call button. “Hi,” I say gently, allowing her to absorb her surroundings.

Samantha’s eyes dart around the room, taking in her IV and the hospital equipment surrounding her. Her gaze drifts from her hospital gown up to me. “Hi,” she rasps. “What happened?”

“You were in a car accident,” I tell her, easing her back against the pillows when she tries to sit forward. “Don't try to move, you just got out of surgery.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Samantha’s voice is just barely above a whisper, her eyelids heavy as she fights off the anesthesia.

“You lost your spleen, your femur is broken, and you have a concussion that caused some brain swelling. Mia is your doctor, she’ll be in here to talk to you later,” I say, reaching for her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Do you remember anything?”

“I remember… my car rolling. That van came out of nowhere,” Samantha responds slowly, waiting for the memories to come back to her. It’s a relief that she remembers anything at all, head injuries are terrifying. I was half expecting her to open her eyes with no idea who I am. “Was anyone else hurt?”

“It was a hit and run carjacking. The other driver fled the scene after the crash. The police should be coming by later to get your statement.”

A petite Filipino nurse enters the room to answer my page, her ID badge says her name is Tala. I remember having seen her around the hospital when I worked here, but I don’t know her personally. She seems sweet, if a little shy, while she checks up on Samantha.

After checking her pupils, vitals, and adjusting her meds, Tala talks Samantha through a few tests; asking her name, what day it is and if she knows where she is. Samantha passes with flying colors and Tala assures us she’ll be back around later to check on her again, before leaving me alone with my sister once more.

“Your hair is so different,” I comment. “It looks really good.”

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