Page 15 of One Last Verse

I had no words. My anger simmered beneath the surface, hot, deep, and acutely confounded.

The hospital was cold.

By the time Dante and I arrived there, Frank had been taken to surgery. The only thing I could pull out of Janet was that he had several fractures that needed immediate attention. There were no other updates. Not for hours.

Dante was on edge. Trying to get him to tell me exactly what happened during the set was like trying to make a toddler sit still for five minutes. My sweet-talking techniques didn’t even work on him for some reason. Desperate for some information, I hid in the restroom to check YouTube for footage.Frankie Blade Stage Accidentwas trending. The entire feed was littered with uploads from the show.

Different angles. Different quality. Same headlines.

The world was thoroughly disappointed.

Back against the tiled wall, I drew a breath through my teeth and skimmed through the links. My fingers felt clammy and the phone shook in my palm. I hit play. On screen, an image of Frank came up. Hair wild, eyes sparkling, he rocked out in the middle of the platform, unaware he’d be on the floor moments later. I wanted to dive in badly. To tell him to get off the damn thing. A sea of hands clapped beneath him. He moved to the beat and traced the edges of the structure carefully. Stage fog was everywhere and the image became unfocused and shaky for a brief second but quickly returned to Frank. The first blast of pyro went off. He shifted over to the truss in the corner, reached out with his right hand, and grabbed it to leverage himself while leaning over the edge.

That was the moment his arm gave out. His legs slipped and he went down.

One hand clamped over my mouth, heart thundering, I set the phone on the counter and replayed the last five seconds of the recording.

Why would he do that?

The door cracked. I heard footsteps. My mind was still spinning and I knew I needed to turn off the recording or at least lower the sound because the chances were high that the person who’d just occupied one of the stalls was a reporter or an overly enthusiastic fan. But shock hit me hard. My feet were rooted to the floor and I couldn’t move a single muscle.

Frank knew he wasn’t supposed to put any pressure on his right shoulder. Trying to hold up the weight of his entire body was stupid. And reckless.

I didn’t understand why he’d done it.

Another set of footsteps dragged me out of my stupor. The light in my brain switched on. I exited YouTube, slipped the phone into my purse, and returned to the waiting area, where Brooklyn, Corey, Dante, and Carter had teamed up for a meeting. Johnny was slumped in a chair two rows over, face off-color, eyes on the floor. Security lined the hallway. I settled across from Billy and Janet and pulled at my skirt as much as the fabric would allow me to cover my shaking legs.

Messages from Levi and Ashton begged to be answered, but my mind wasn’t ready to face the rest of the world yet.

Dante disengaged from the group and disappeared down the hall. His voice carried from around the corner as he spoke to someone. I wasn’t sure if he was on a phone call or flirting with a nurse, but he returned two minutes later with a hospital blanket and tossed it to me.

“You’re going to turn into a popsicle.” He stood off to the side and watched me cocooning myself for a minute, then flicked his gaze to Frank’s parents. “Anyone want coffee?”

Billy accepted the offer and thanked him. Janet was quiet, dread lining her thin face.

“What about you, short stuff?”

I shook my head. It was an instant reaction. I was hungry and needed caffeine, but my brain hadn’t processed the words correctly. I was still rattled by the YouTube video and our conversation about Frank’s ex-wife. Part of me wanted Dante to take it all back. Shove the confession into his mouth and keep it there.

“Gonna be a long night, darlin’.” He spread his arms wide and took a step backward. A juicy, devilish grin lit up his face, which was sprinkled with light stubble. “Last chance.”

I reevaluated. Coffee sounded good. Best way to stay up. Besides, Dante Martinez was acting nice and human for once. Fetching drinks for others unless they were shots at a party was so out of his character. It almost felt as if he was trying to redeem himself.

“Okay. Sure.” I nodded.

He marched off and never returned. At least, not for a while. I had to go and look for him in the cafeteria half an hour later because poor Billy and Janet really needed that coffee after the doctor came out to tell us that Frank was out of surgery.

“Can we see him?” Janet asked. She was wringing her hands and trembling like crazy I wasn’t positive the woman was mentally equipped to be here right now, but what did I know? I’d been in Frank’s life only a few months. She’d been with him through three decades of highs and lows. Those numbers scared me. They were just another reminder of how fickle, short-lived, and possibly not very serious this affair actually was.

“Not yet,” the doctor said as he continued to ignore my presence. “He’s still unconscious and I want to run a few more tests, so sit tight.”

Fear trickled down my spine as I maneuvered through the rows of plastic tables in the cafeteria. Dante was leaning against the register chatting with the cashier. He had his smug face on.

Unbelievable.

I walked over and tugged the side of his shirt.

“Oh, hey, short stuff.” He spun around and his gaze darted between me and the girl in the bleak hospital visor. “This is Leticia. She’s making us fresh coffee.”

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