Page 97 of Healed Heart
“Damn it, Ralph,” I mutter, my anger flaring.“Wake up.You owe me some answers.”I reach out and shake his shoulder slightly.
Still no response.My heart thuds.
I look around the room.The smell of disinfectant hangs in the air, and I can hear the distant echo of nurses chatting down the hallway.It all feels so detached from reality, like a scene from a movie.
I yank on his arm.I don’t care if it hurts.“Wake the fuck up, Ralph!”
Finally, his eyes open.
Just as I thought.He’s been awake this whole time.
“What is it?”he grits out.
“Why me?”I demand.
His lips slowly twist into a smirk.“Why not?”
Oh, man.If he weren’t so pathetic, I’d smack him across his smug face right now.
I clench my jaw, my fingers curling into fists.Why not?That’s the best he can come up with?After everything, after dragging Jason into this mess, after lying here playing the victim while Jason’s life is falling apart?
I lean in closer, my voice sharp.“Cut the bullshit.I know you’re enjoying this—sitting in that bed, letting everyone think you’re the helpless one.But you’re not.You did this to yourself.And you’re trying to make Jason pay for it, even though you and I both know he had nothing to do with you getting hurt.”
His lips twitch, just the faintest ghost of amusement.
Amusement.
The bastard thinks this is funny.
“I didn’tdoanything,” he mutters, his voice raspy but full of that same arrogance that makes me want to shove his damned IV stand over.
I narrow my eyes.“What do you have against Jason?Why are you doing this to him?”
Ralph smirks.“Maybe you should askhim.”
A sharp burst of rage flares in my chest.Ididask him.And Jason told me exactly what I needed to hear—he had nothing to do with this, and he has no idea what Ralph could possibly have to gain.
I won’t let Ralph get under my skin.I can’t.
“You think you’re clever,” I say, my voice quieter now.“But you’re not.”
His smirk fades, his eyes hardening.“Yethere you are,” he says.“Sitting by my bed.Asking me for answers.Maybe I have more power than you think.”
I grip the edge of the chair so tightly my knuckles ache.“You don’t have power, Ralph.You have desperation.”
He doesn’t respond, but I see it—just for a second.A flicker of something behind his tired, sunken eyes.
Not fear.Not anger.Something amorphous that I can’t quite read.
“Jason didn’t do this to you,” I say.“And if you’re trying to frame him, you’d better think long and hard about your next move.Because Iwillfind out what happened that night.And when I do, I’ll make sure the truth buries you.”
Ralph’s breathing grows heavier, his fingers twitching at his sides.For the first time since I walked in here, he looks unsure.But I don’t wait for him to respond.
I stand and push my chair back with a sharp scrape against the floor.“Sleep tight, Ralph.”
I turn to leave, but just as I reach the door, his voice follows me.
“Be careful what you dig for.”
