Page 63 of Resilient Rhythms
“Yeah,” I agree, nodding. “Fuck, Jameson. I’ve carried this shit around for years.”
My brother chuckles. “So, what you’re really saying is that steaks and Cokes are on me tonight?”
“Fuck yeah. And not just tonight, try eternity,” I grumble, sliding from the golf cart.
Jameson laughs harder and exits the cart, walking beside me and slinging an arm around my neck. “All right, Mav. Dinner’s on me.”
I snicker and shake my head. But relief trickles through my body as a weight around my neck, a heavy fucking weight, dissipates. I pull in a breath, surprised at how light my chest feels. Surprised at how damn centered I feel.
Then, I enter the clubhouse beside my brother, prepared to enjoy a cold Coke and a delicious steak dinner.
But just before we’re seated, my phone rings.
“What the hell?” I murmur at the call coming through from Massachusetts General Hospital.
Dread quickly eats my relief as I meet my brother’s eyes. “It’s the hospital.”
“Answer it,” he commands, his voice gruff.
We turn back toward the parking lot as I lift my phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Maverick Tate?”
“Yes.”
“I’m calling about your wife…”
My eyes close as I listen to the woman give limited information about Mckenna.
But it doesn’t matter, I’m already on my way to my wife. To my home.
I pace the hallways of the hospital feeling physically ill. I haven’t seen Mckenna yet and if my brother and Drew, who had also been trying to reach me, weren’t keeping me in check, I would have lost it the moment I crossed the threshold of the hospital.
“Where is she?” Mr. Byrne barrels down the hall toward me. Jeannie hurries beside him, her face pinched with worry.
“I haven’t seen her yet.” I throw out an arm, my frustration getting the better of me.
“It was him, wasn’t it?” Mr. Byrne demands.
I swear but nod. Yes, it was that little fucker Branson Burton. He attacked her in the parking lot of Aiden’s law office. If Drew didn’t pull him off her…I shudder to think what could have happened.
At my confirmation, the blood drains from Mr. Byrne’s face and he sags against the hospital wall, tipping his head back as he sucks in a long breath. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“I should’ve fucking ended it when I had the chance,” he murmurs.
“You couldn’t have known…” I trail off. This isn’t on him and yet, I understand where he’s coming from. I’m dealing with feelings of guilt because I didn’t keep Mckenna safe. Again.
“It’s not your fault,” Jameson mutters beside me, as if reading my thoughts.
“It’s mine,” Drew says, his voice raw.
I shake my head. “It’s not.”
Drew doesn’t say anything but at the haggard expression on his face, I know he’ll carry guilt over what happened today for a long, long time.
Drew was waiting in the office building while Mckenna met with Aiden. He texted her to let her know that he and Alfred were going to grab a bite at a café on the ground floor.
