Page 80 of My Destiny
“How bad is he?” My father’s voice comes over the phone.
“Not good.”
“What in the hell happened?”
“Look, I can’t talk right now, Dad. The paramedics are getting ready to take Brooke to the hospital and I need to be with her.”
“Brooke’s been shot too?” my mother shrieks.
“No, but she’s unconscious. She has a nasty cut on the side of her head.”
“Oh no.” I hear my mum start to cry, and I can’t deal with this shit right now.
“Mum, I’ve got to go.”
“Are you injured, son?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll see you at the hospital.”
I end the call before she gets a chance to interrogate me further. I’m already regretting calling her, but if my uncle doesn’t make it, they’d never forgive me for not telling them.
A soft moan falls from Brooke’s lips on the drive to the hospital. Although I’m beyond relieved, it tears me up inside to see her like this. “Logan,” she murmurs, and I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear her say my name. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I lean forward, reaching for her hand.
“I’m here, baby,” I say, bringing her hand to my mouth and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. I feel a smile tug on my lips when her eyelids flutter open and her big brown eyes meet mine.
“Jake,” she says, her eyes wide with fright. God only knows what she had to endure at the hands of that man.
“You’re safe now. Everything is going to be okay.” I don’t know how she’s going to take the news of Jake’s death when I eventually break it to her. Despite all she’s been through, I know the sweet and compassionate person she is, so I doubt she’ll take it well.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” she says, and the paramedic looking after her reaches for a white disposable vomit bag and places it near her mouth.
“Roll onto your side,” he says, helping her. “I don’t want you choking on your own vomit.”
“Is she okay?” I ask, panicked.
The paramedic flicks his head, gesturing for me to sit back in the seat so he can examine her further. “It’s normal,” he replies. “My guess is, she has a nasty concussion from her fall.” Leaning back into my chair, I scrub my hand over my face. I hate seeing her like this.
By the time we arrive at the hospital, she’s fully conscious and answering all the questions she’s asked. I reach for her hand after she’s wheeled from the ambulance and through the glass doors into the emergency rooms.
“I’m going to have to ask you to wait out there,” the paramedic says, gesturing towards the waiting room. “Once the doctor has had a chance to examine her, you’ll be able to come back in.”
“Sure,” I reply. Although I don’t want to leave her, I understand it’s for the best. I lean forward, brushing the hair from Brooke’s forehead. I try not to focus on the dried blood caked down one side of her face because it’s messing with my head. “I’ll be right outside.”
“Okay,” she says. As unwell as she looks, she still manages to give me a small smile.
Bending down, I brush my lips against hers. “I love you,” I whisper, and as I pull back, I see her smile grow.
I stand there frozen to the spot as they wheel her further down the corridor. It’s like déjà vu, only this time she’s not just a beautiful woman I met at a party, she’s my world. It’s incredible how close we’ve become in the short time we’ve been together. My mind drifts back to the first night we met. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we’d end up together. Some people may think it’s coincidence, but in my heart, I know it’s fate. I felt something the first moment I laid eyes on her, and I’m pretty sure it was divine intervention that reconnected us.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I head into the waiting room. “Logan,” my mum calls out as soon as she spots me. Leaping from her chair, she rushes towards me and engulfs me in her arms. “Thank goodness you’re okay.” I don’t care that a waiting room full of people are staring at us. Age is irrelevant, sometimes a mother’s soothing hug is needed.
She draws back, looking up at me. “How’s Brooke? Have you heard any news on John? We asked, but they haven’t told us anything.”
“Nothing yet.”
She clutches my face in her hands. “Oh, sweetheart.” My expression probably says it all. “What happened?” Her eyes move downwards. “Is that blood on your shirt?”
Following her line of sight, I see splatters of blood all over me. I’m not sure whose blood it is, but it’s enough to turn my stomach. “Excuse me,” I say. “I need to use the bathroom.”
