Page 299 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“Okay. Hey, Harrison?”

I lay on my horn when some idiot cuts me off. “What?”

“Don’t speed. You getting in an accident won’t help the situation.”

“Point taken.”

Following the Decker phone tree protocol, my younger brother, Jameson, doesn’t answer. He might be sleeping in since it’s Sunday. I leave him a message and then try to call Madison back, but she doesn’t answer.

Dread settles into my bones.

We’ve been through hell the past few months, my sister most of all, only to have that fucker turn his back on her when she needed him most. While my parents sat in disbelief and disappointment, she had three brothers who not only could take care of the situation with him but would rally around her.

My mom worried about Madison only being nineteen and that a baby would derail her daughter’s dream of being an entertainment lawyer. I get it. At the time, Maddie was enrolled in college and a straight-A student.

I worried she wouldn’t live to see twenty.

Why’d she pick a bad boy? I mean, I know why girls fall for them, but a weed dealer who dabbled in nighttime street racing for bets probably doesn’t share the same long-term goals as my sister.

As predicted, he was out of the picture as soon as she told him. Things got worse for him when he tossed a few bills in her face and told her to handle it. She decided she would have the baby on her own.

I run into the ER and head for the nurses’ station. “Harrison?”

Turning to the side, my mom runs into my arms. I used to be the one rushing into hers. “What happened?”

“Dodson came around and wanted to talk to Maddie. I knew it was a bad idea.”

The name of that loser gets me angry. I almost killed him the first time he laid a hand on Madison. If my brother Dawson hadn’t been there . . . I probably wouldn’t be standing here.

I don’t know what he tells her, but I do know my sister. She’s not weak like the prey he treats her. I highly doubt anything comes with a please when he tells her how it’s going down.

My mom takes me to the corner of the waiting room and whispers, “I don’t have the details from Madison. All I heard from the nurse is that she was in a car accident and can’t tell me more.”

“Fuck,” I exhale, looking toward the nurses’ station.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she says, hugging me.

Hugging her back, I ask, “Where’s Dad?”

“Santa Barbara. It will take him hours to get here.” Annoyance colors her tone.

Mat walks in and looks around. Seeing us, he heads our way. “If you tell me that fucker had anything to do with this . . .”

“Please put your energy into Maddie’s recovery.” My mom goes quiet, and then adds, “And this sweet baby she’s carrying.” Tears roll down her cheeks, and she sniffles. “I can’t handle thinking about that horrible man. He won’t leave her alone.”

“Mrs. Decker?” We turn to see a doctor standing nearby looking for my mom.

“I’m here,” she says, rushing toward him. “How is my daughter?”

Mat and I stand behind her like two bodyguards flanking her, and my gut twists with concern.

“Madison’s doing well, but we’re concerned about the baby.”

Present Day

Sitting in waiting rooms is the worst. Doesn’t matter if nothing’s wrong, the fear still creeps in, implanting the what-ifs.

I toss the magazine from 2017 back on the pile and decide pacing will serve me better.

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