Page 70 of All Mine

“You’re not going anywhere,” the officer said, unlocking my cell.

“I’m the victim here,” he called.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Four,” the officer replied.

The polls didn’t close until seven. There was a window of opportunity for me, but I had to work quickly. I followed the officer to a desk where I received my wallet, keys, and cell phone. Thankfully the phone still had battery power. I grabbed it and found the number for the escrow agent.

“I still need you to sign this,” the officer said.

I nodded to him as someone answered the phone. “Hi Margaret, it’s Camden Carter,” I said into the phone. “Is Paul there?” Balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder, listening to hold music, I signed the form.

“Camden,” Paul’s voice boomed. “What can I do for you.”

“There’s been a development, and I need a meeting right away. I have an idea.”

Twenty-Seven

Lauren

The stupid ice pack had hurt more than it helped take the sting out of my cheek. I’d protested seeing a doctor but ended up in an ER cubicle near where my attacker ex-husband was crying and upset over his broken nose. Too bad Camden didn’t break his jaw, so they’d have to wire it shut.

So, Stephen Wellington was back. It’d been him after my business all along. Everyone else there was simply a casualty of being on the same parcel of property as me. The unfairness that everything they’d all worked so hard for could get snatched away in a moment through no fault of their own raked through me. He held so much anger at me for not living up to the wife he’d wanted that he planned a way to get back at me this many months later.

“Oh my god,” Sloane came through the curtain with Eden on her heels. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, sliding out of bed. “I told them I didn’t need to come here, but Eddie was insistent on getting me checked out. Let’s go.” I said, moving toward my purse on the counter.

“Sit down, Ms. Hart, I haven’t released you,” Dr. Fox Romero said, entering the room. “You have a mild concussion.” He glared at me. We’d known each other since elementary school. He was three years older than me and we didn’t run in the same circles. And no doubt it peeved him that I tried to leave before he’d come back with his diagnosis.

I plopped on the edge of the bed, crossing my arms over my chest.

“See, you’re not okay,” Sloane snapped.

“It’s nothing too serious,” Dr. Romero replied. “A mild concussion. You’ll need to take it easy for the next few days.”

“Take it easy?” I mutter. “Well, that’s easy for you to say. Here in the next couple of hours, I might lose my home and my business.”

“Don’t worry, doc,” Sloane said. “I’ll take care of her. She won’t be homeless no matter how the vote goes.”

“Don’t let her go to sleep for the next two hours,” Fox said.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to, Dr. Foxy,” I said, slinging the inappropriate nickname some nurses and patients called him. He grimaced.

“You’re just trying to get me to throw you out of here now,” he said.

With his dark, wavy hair and chiseled jawline covered in a permanent five o’clock shadow, he had to be aware of his attractiveness, but he never acted like he was.

“Can I go now?” I asked.

“Sure, just stay away from your ex-husband.”

“Well, I’ve been planning to stay away from him for the rest of my life, but sometimes plans don’t work out.”

“No painkillers for the next twenty-four hours. If the pain’s that bad, come back in,” he said. “Now wait here for the nurse to gather your discharge paperwork.”

“Damn,” Eden said after Dr. Romero left. “Is that what all the doctors look like around here?”

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