Chapter 14
Gabe
Three hours later, I’m sitting on a hard plastic chair against the yellow brick wall in the San Francisco General Hospital, staring down at the black screen of my phone. A flurry of people have walked by as I’ve tapped my foot against the shiny blue vinyl flooring and then paced the hallway until my legs tired. For the last half an hour, I’ve sat in this damn chair waiting for a text from Ryder.
Just as I rise for another round of pacing, my phone beeps, and finally the screen lights up, displaying a text from Ryder.
McKenna’s gone. It looks like she’s going into the café. Be quick.
I jump to my feet and make my move, hurrying down the hallway and turning right, approaching Evan’s hospital room. Regardless that McKenna wanted to give Evan time, maybe to help protect him, or maybe to figure out where his head was at, before letting me talk to him, I will talk to Evan on my terms, not hers.
When I enter the room, I find the television set is turned to the sports channel. Evan is lying in his bed, hooked up to a couple bags of IVs, a bandage around his head, his eyes closed. He’s thin, probably more so because Draken likely fed him little during his time in the factory.
If he weren’t injured, I’d be tempted to throttle the living shit out of him. This is the last place I want to be. Going behind McKenna’s back is the last thing I want to do, but I know she won’t let me talk to him, and this whole situation still rests on my shoulders. The recording happened in my pub. I need to make this right for the guys who don’t deserve the shit Evan put them through.
I stop by h
is bedside and clear my throat. As his eyes open, they grow wide, clearly aware of exactly who I am. “You and I have a problem,” I tell him firmly.
He sits up a little straighter, glancing at the door before his one good eye meets mine again. The other eye is swollen shut, his face a black and blue mess of injuries. “I suspected you might show up here,” he comments.
“Did you?” I ask, crossing my arms, glaring down at the guy who nearly ruined my friends’ lives.
Evan nods, visibly swallows.
“In your thoughts,” I say slowly, my eyes narrowing on the little shit. “What did you think I would do when I showed up here?”
“I wasn’t sure.” He glances at the doorway as if somehow that will save him from my wrath.
I pause, considering my next steps. Christ, even I’m not sure what to do. What I want to do is smack this kid around a little bit, teach him a thing or two about messing with me. Instead, doing the smart thing, I say, “You need to make this right, Evan.”
His gaze lifts to mine, voice small. “How do I do that?”
I reach into my pocket, take out a paper that I asked Ross Sterling to draft up for me, then picked up on my way to the hospital, and hand it to Evan. “Signing this would be a good start.”
He takes the paper, his one eye scanning the typed words. “What will this do?”
“That is absolutely none of your business.” I shove my hand back into my pocket and grabbing a pen. “But after all the shit you’ve done, I think signing this affidavit is the least that you can do.”
I offer him the pen, and without a further push, he signs the paper and hands it to me.
“What else?” he asks.
I draw in a deep breath, studying him, and some of my anger diminishes. He wants to fix all this, I can see that, which only tells me he is the addict McKenna claims him to be. His expression is full of regret, sadness, and hopelessness. I begin to see that he’s not the horrible piece of shit I think he is. McKenna’s too good to be close to someone like that, but again, she also loves him. “You need to make things right with McKenna, too.”
He shifts against his pillows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, man-up and stop using your fucking sister.”
Evan watches me a minute, assessing, I’m sure. Finally, he asks, “Are you with her now or something?”
I hide the hurt his words cause. Three hours he’s been awake. Three hours McKenna hasn’t talked about me or told Evan about us. “You asked me what else I think you need to do,” I tell him, redirecting the conversation where I want it to go. “That’s what I think you need to do.” I step forward, coming closer to his bedside, and lower my voice. “If you dare involve me or my friends in your bullshit again, I’ll have you arrested for everything you can think of and more. Got it?”
Evan nods, and the relief is there in the depths of his one eye. Today he got a free pass, and he knows it.
“Say the words aloud,” I order, pressing my clenched fists against his mattress, leaning in, nice and close.
“Yeah, yeah,” Evan says, moving away. “I won’t do it again.”