Page 246 of Restless
Mort immediately answered. “What’s up, little dude?”
“Uncle Mort, Mom collapsed.” CJ’s voice trembled. If he wasn’t crying, he sounded close to tears. “I’m following the ambulance to the hospital.” He sniffled. “Her Lexus is still at the coffee shop.”
The fear in CJ’s tone alarmed Mort and everything else fled his head. “I’m on my way.”
“I haven’t called Dad yet. Right before the paramedics closed the ambulance doors, I saw her eyes open. I want him…he’ll…”
Have a fucking fit.“CJ, focus on the road,” Mort said as calmly as possible, jumping to his feet and rushing outside.
Ignoring the cold air blasting him, he headed to his bike, thankful that the snow had stopped. His surroundings were white and frozen, perfect for Christmas.
If only life wasn’t so fucked up.
“You still there?” he asked once he mounted up.
CJ had been silent for the last minute.
“Yeah, Uncle Mort. The ambulance just got onto hospital grounds.”
Relief flood Mort. “I’m not too far away. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Should I call my dad?”
“No. If your momma bad off, Prez’ll wipeout getting to her.” Mort swallowed. “I’ll go to him myself and drive him to her.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in a few minutes,” CJ said, and disconnected.
Mortician arrived in eight minutes, speeding around to the ER entrance and parking at the edge of the circular driveway, right near the two ambulance bays.
The moment the hospital entrance doors slid open and Mortician walked in, he went to the intake station. “I’m looking for CJ Caldwell,” he told the man behind the desk.
His badge read ‘Omar Brown’. Yawning, Omar barely glanced up. “I don’t have a CJ Caldwell admitted,” he said after a few clicks on his keyboard and a study of his screen.
“His momma, Megan Caldwell, the patient. CJ should be in a private waiting room.”
Omar’s kohl-lined eyes widened; he straightened in his seat. “Yes, him. He’ll be in the last room, right near the entrance for the patients transported by ambulance.” He pressed the big silver button on the wall and the double doors flew open.
Mort nodded, then went into the restricted area, hoping he’d see Meggie or someone he might talk to and find out anything he could. When he reached the turnoff, he debated on continuing forward. The area for patients with the central medical station could provide answers.
Soon enough. CJ needed support, so Mort turned and walked down the short hallway to the last door, marked ‘Private’. Without knocking, he opened the door and walked in. Since he intended to check on Meggie, he didn’t close the door.
CJ was sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees and his head hung.
Decorated in burgundy, green, and gray, the room contained a sofa along one wall. On the opposite side, a loveseat stood in front of a coffee table that was flanked by two wing chairs.
The hospital’s massive upgrades took place over the past decade, mainly funded by money from the club, Meggie, and Mortician. Not only was there a private wing and stairwell, but the hospital had several “safe” rooms and sitting rooms for club members. They were all soundproof and bullet proof because when motherfuckers fucked with the Dwellers, bullshit kicked offanywhere.
It was well known that most of the changes, especially that private wing, had been done with Meggie in mind. However, it was available for use by all brothers and their immediate family, as well as their support clubs if the need arose.
Mort walked forward and placed a hand on CJ’s shoulder. “CJ?”
He looked up, tears brimming in his green eyes. For a moment, Mortician only saw the small boy CJ had once been, so filled with mischief and energy. All along Meggie knew Outlaw’s world would draw in her son, too. She’d only borrowed him for however long she could. But by allowing him to emulate his father without judgment, CJ had grown into a confident young man.
Right now, he was scared.
“How your momma?”
“I don’t know. They won’t let me see her—”
