Page 80 of Scrooge

“Jillian,” my father warns, and I turn to see him standing off to the side. Like a ruler looking over his people, assessing me and everyone around me. I am in the hospital, connected to IVs and a heart monitor and all manner of things. As I take everything in, I hear my heart rate beeps pick up pace.

“It’s alright, honey, just take it easy,” Mom says, but her words put more fear into me. I look around at everyone, wide-eyed, fear consuming me. My thoughts scrambled.

“She is spiking. We need the doctor,” my mom says, and Dad runs out of the room.

“Sunflower. Look at me, beautiful,” Alex says softly, but I can’t. I am scared stiff, too scared to move, too scared to say anything.

“She is frightened; you need to move away,” Jillian says as she attempts to move Alex away from me. I don’t want that, but I can’t push through my fear to tell her. Alex’s grip on me remains, like he knows exactly what I need.

“I am not going anywhere,” he grits out, and I am glad, but my heart feels like it is almost thudding out of my chest. The monitor beeps continue to increase in pace. I start to breathe quicker, not able to get air.

“It’s okay, Haylee, just take a deep breath.” a doctor says as he walks into the room with purpose. “Just slow it down. In one, two, three. And out. Slowly, that’s it.”

Pinning my eyes to him, I do what he says. I focus on his gray eyebrows. They’re not really trimmed, one spiking up haphazardly that has my sole attention.

“A mild panic attack. That’s all it was,” he says to me, before looking up at everyone as I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing once again.

“I think you’re having a moment of PTSD. According to your file, the last time you were here wasn’t the best experience, so your memories are probably flashing back, creating some anxiety and stress,” the doctor says to me and the room.

As my heart rate slows, I open my eyes again, darting my gaze around the room. It’s the private one Deloris was in. Alex’s special hospital room. When I look back at the doctor, I recognize him as Alex’s private medical physician.

“Just take it easy. A bit of a head bump is all,” my mom says, patting down the bed linen and tucking me in, even though I am already tucked in tight.

“I swear to God, you need to get out of my way,” Jillian threatens, looking straight at Alex. But his hold on my hand still doesn’t waver. He doesn’t even look at her, his eyes firmly set on me.

“I am not going anywhere.” Determination edges his features, and as I get lost in his eyes, I begin to have some recollections.

Logan. The bar. Me being a hired escort.

“Okay, let’s keep her calm. I am going to go and check on one other patient, then I will be back. Probably a good idea to clear the room a little. Too many people can be overwhelming for her,” the doctor says, looking at everyone before he walks out. I continue to count my breaths.

“Wendy. Jillian. Let’s give them some time,” my dad says, always the most observant one of us.

“Sure, honey,” my mom says.

At the same time, Jillian murmurs, “Not happening.” Until I give her a small smile and a nod.

As Mom and Dad walk to the door, Jillian helps me sit up, fluffing the pillows behind me before she whispers in my ear, “Press the buzzer, and I will be in here to kill him before anyone knows.”

I smile, loving how she looks after me. I know she always has my back. Her smile falls as she steps away and looks at Alex with a death glare. He clears his throat, but remains rooted to the spot, and we watch them leave, not talking until the door is closed.

“What happened?” I ask tentatively, and his fingers twirl into mine again.

“You were hit by a taxi. Stepped onto the road when we were talking. You were trying to get away from me,” he says, before swallowing roughly. He blames himself.

“What are you doing here?” My last memory is me telling him that we were over. I feel heartbroken, not wanting that, but the searing memory of Logan’s eyes as he threatened me has my stomach clenching.

“What am I doing here? Of course I’m here. You’re my fiancée,” he says, looking a little shocked. I remember Logan’s words from last night. Telling me he will bring Alex down if I stick around. I look at where Alex is at my bedside. His clothes are ruffled, his face tired, his hair messy like he has run his hand through it a million times. My chest aches seeing him so torn up inside.

“Logan said…” I start to say, and his jaw twitches.

“Logan is an asshole. I don’t know exactly what he said to you, but I know what he said to me, and that asshole is going to pay,” Alex seethes. I gulp, trying to find moisture in my mouth, but there is none. “Here.” Leaning over, he grabs a glass of water with a straw and brings it to my lips. I almost sag in relief as the cool water hits my tongue, my body and my brain starting to feel better.

“He said that I need to leave you. That he will go to the press.” The words rush out and hurt to say, but if Logan goes to the press, then it will end Alex, his business will suffer, everything will crumble because of me.

“Not happening.” He shakes his head, and I almost allow myself to take a full breath and believe him. But I need to stand firm in this. I can’t have him suffer because of our poor choice at doing this agreement, potentially leading to him being slammed in the media for paying me to be with him.

“We don’t need Tucker Toys saved anymore,” I tell him, even though we do. But I will figure it out.

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