As I stepped off the elevator, Steven saw me and rushed up to me with bloodshot eyes. His dark hair looked like he’d been pulling on it in despair. “There’s no reason to cry, sweetie. They located a doctor who can perform the surgery. Amelia has a fighting chance.”
I grabbed onto Steven and let it all out—the pain, the sadness, the relief.
It neared noon on the next day. There had been no other texts from Gael. Amelia was still in surgery. I hadn’t slept through the night, but stared out into the parking lot, numb, for endless hours. Feeding my caffeine addiction, I was getting what was probably the hundredth cup of coffee in the hospital cafeteria. Caffeine was the only thing keeping me going. Steven had asked if I wanted to go to their place. I couldn’t. Not until I knew Amelia was okay.
“Ashlin.”
I turned and dropped my coffee. I’d never been so happy and scared in my life at who stood in front of me.
Gael. My Gael. He looked like I did—miserable. All I wanted to do was run into his arms and know everything was going to be okay. But, I couldn’t, not now.
Holding up my hands, I saw they were shaking. “Gael, you have to leave. You can’t be here. Please.”
“Tell me to my face, it’s over. Tell me and I’ll leave. I don’t believe you, sweetheart.” Gael kept walking toward me in his jeans and sweater.
When looking into his eyes, the words couldn’t come off my lips. But I tried, to sound convincing. “Please leave, Gael. I’m begging you.”
Reaching me, he put his hands to each side of my face and I briefly closed my eyes, reveling in the gesture. “You look scared to death. Something’s happened.”
Stepping back from his embrace, I looked over to the right as two guys came in. Gael glanced that way before bringing his attention back to me. I forced the acid back down as I spoke the only words that would make him leave, “It’s over, Gael.”
Gael watched my face. “I said I would leave and I will. Good-bye, Ashlin.”
He flinched. Without so much as a glance back, Gael left the cafeteria and my heart hurt worse than it had before. I wanted to scream for Gael to come back. Tears accumulated in my eyes as I tried to stay strong for Steven and Amelia.
Harris strode in from the side door a minute later. “Good girl. I think you may have convinced the fucker. I’ll be stopping by later today to bring some dinner. We’re starting our reconciliation.”
This was going to be my life with Harris until I found a way out—permanently.
The operation had been a success. We were sitting in the mauve colored waiting room while Amelia was in recovery. Steven was going to be allowed to see her anytime now. Everyone was becoming restless.
Amelia’s dad, Winston, came to sit by me, placing his hand on my knee. He was a fit man with a head of silver hair. “It means a lot you’re here. You’re like a daughter to us.”
Putting my hand on top of his, I responded, “You guys have always been like parents to me, too. Thank you for that, always.”
I looked across to the loveseat in front of the chairs. Steven and Colleen, Amelia’s mother, were talking. She looked like Amelia with her dark and expressive eyes.
Taking another sip of coffee, Winston asked, “Has Harris bothered you anymore? Amelia had filled me in on your suspicions.”
“He’s reached out a couple of times. We’ll see.” It was near impossible to lie to a lawyer, especially, Winston. Telling the truth without all the details was what I’d have to do to make it past his internal lie detector.
The nurse came out. “Steven Hill, you can come back now.”
Standing and heading that way, Colleen called out, “Tell her we love her and we’re here for her.”
Steven turned around right before he passed through the doors, tears in his eyes, he said, “I will.”
Winston moved to Colleen’s side as she cried into his chest. We were all functioning on hardly any sleep. With the hurricane, I was dealing with even less. At some point, my body was going to say enough and crash.
We were all waiting for Steven to come out for us to be able to see Amelia. The dinner hour came and I knew I’d have to play nice. I hoped Winston chewed up Harris’ ass and spit it out.
My phone vibrated.
Harris: I’m headed up. Time to make nice.
Me: Okay.
The fight was out of me. And I couldn’t take a chance on Amelia’s recovery. Harris had preyed on my emotional state—knowing I’d be desperate to save my friend. Unless, I found a permanent solution to keep him out of my life this would become my story. Harris would wait in the corner until he was able to force me into action like he’d done yesterday.