Page 169 of The Revenge Plan (Forbidden Descendants 1)

“Okay. We love you,” they said in unison.

I smiled. “I love you too.”

When I hung up, Cannon snapped, “Who was that?” in an accusative voice.

I glanced up at him, frowning slightly. God, this guy was as prickly as a porcupine. Tempted to say it was none of his business, I sighed and let it go.

“My parents,” I answered as I tucked my phone back into my purse.

He lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. “For real? Your parents?”

“Yeah,” I snapped back, glaring. “My parents. I called them first when I couldn’t wake Wick, so they were calling back to check in. And yes, I’m still an insecure little girl who calls her mommy and daddy whenever she doesn’t know what to do. I know! So just bite me.”

He gaped at me a moment before shaking his head silently and sitting in a chair two spaces away. “Nah, it’s cool,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands, then back up. “Must be nice to have good parents.”

He sounded kind of wistful when he said it, and not at all bitter, so my moodiness toward him eased. “It is,” I assured him.

“Speaking of parents.” He glanced around the waiting area. “Should we call Web’s?”

“You can if you want to,” I said. “But my mom said a hematoma was only a bruise. Wick might not be as bad off as we’re worried he is. I wouldn’t want to unnecessarily freak his family out just yet if they don’t need to be.”

I was still hoping I had overreacted in bringing him here to the hospital in the first place.

Cannon nodded. “I’ll wait until we hear more then.”

So, we sat. And waited. I finished what I could of Wick’s paperwork and turned it in. But when I tried to ask if anyone had any news about him yet, no one did.

I returned to Cannon and sat in the seat two spaces away from him. There were three other people sitting in the waiting room: one coughing and hunkered low in his seat, and then a couple. The man-part of the couple looked as if he might topple over and pass out any moment while his wife watched one of the televisions on the wall and knitted what looked like a scarf.

I turned back to Cannon who was playing Gardenscapes on his phone.

Smiling affectionately, I said, “Wick plays that game.”

He shot me a dry glance. “Wow. You sound as if you actually know something about him.”

“I…” How the hell did I respond to that? I was sure he was trying to insult me. But I couldn’t figure out why. The guy for-real appeared to hate me.

I glanced up at the television for something to do while I waited, only to blink in shock. “Oh my God,” I blurted.

Cannon glanced up, jerking his attention around the room as if he expected to see a zombie version of Wick bumbling toward us.

I pointed at the television. “It’s a rerun of Night Court.”

When he only frowned at me, I tried to explain. “Wick and I watched…”

But mentioning his best friend seemed to set him on edge. His scowl darkened.

“Am I not supposed to mention his name to you or something?” I finally just asked.

He shrugged and went back to playing on his phone. “Say whatever you want.”

“Because you plan to scoff at anything I do say, no matter what it is, right?” I guessed aloud, sending him a hard stare.

With a growling kind of mutter, he set his phone down in his lap and turned to me. “Look. Webster might have no problem looking past the fact that you fucked Topher Nicholl for three fucking years, but I have issues with it, alright? When you lie down with a dog like that, you gotta have fleas somewhere.”

He sliced a degrading glance over me before returning his attention to his game, and I hugged myself, feeling like a lower life form.

Not about to be beaten down, however, I told him in a low voice, “You know, I’m well aware of the rumors floating around about me. But for your information, I do not have an STD.”

---