Bridge sat drawing me in close, and I clung to him, twisting my hands in his tee. I had a moment’s clarity as I realised I was in my sleep shorts and tank top. I could imagine what tomorrow’s newspapers would be full of, rumours and lies. Dazed, I watched as Kye was wheeled out, and I scrambled to my feet.
“Hey, I’m going with him,” I announced, and my tone brooked no argument.
“That’s not a problem, but only one of you can ride with us,” a paramedic replied, and I nodded and followed them.
“Chey, we’ll bring some clothes,” Jed called, and I offered a wave over my shoulder. That wasn’t important. Only Kye mattered right now.
“Did Kye overdose Chey?” a reporter shouted as we approached the ambulance. I sent him a dirty look, but it opened up a barrage of questions as others chipped in. The EMT slammed the door of the ambo closed, and the sirens lit the air as the vehicle moved. The man in the back with me started taking Kye’s details while monitoring his stats. I kept a watchful eye as he helped Kye, but I saw nothing untoward. Not that I expected it, of course, but it never hurt. Recognition shone in the EMT’s eyes as he quizzed me about Kye.
Was it a drug overdose? Had Kye been drinking? I explained what was going on, and the EMT noted the medication I rattled off. Shaken, I answered the queries on when Kye’s last treatment had been and who he was under at the hospital. I’ll give the man his due; he looked shocked at the news he was being given but kept it together. He had two famous band members in his vehicle and was working on saving the life of the lead male vocal. I clasped Kye’s hand and begged him not to leave me; I couldn’t do this without Kye.
Kye had watched over me and been my main cheerleader when I was pregnant with Jesse. He’d been at every appointment and blocking the press when they demanded to know who the dad was. For a few weeks, the newspapers had speculated that Kye was the father of Jesse. Still, they’d died out when Ken had released a statement. Being the hottest thing on the country circuit meant we garnered a lot of attention, but the invasion into our private lives had been horrific.
The guys had protected Jesse and me, but Kye had been our fierce defender. Kye stood toe to toe with Ken when Ken nearly pulled the rug from under our feet. A new band with a pregnant lead singer wasn’t something Ken was interested in. But The Wild Wind’s music was wonderful and spoke for itself, and to be honest, I was great, no false modesty there. And Ken bowed his head and supported us.
We earned Ken a fortune over the years, as well as our own pots of cash. None of us needed to continue, and if we never released another song, we wouldn’t feel hardship. At first, a couple of the guys had gone money-mad, spending like demons until they grew up enough to hoard their earnings. But Kye had been with me during wakeless nights when Jesse wouldn’t settle, through vomiting and colds and snotty noses. Kye loved us with his entire heart, and it was reciprocated.
The ambulance screamed into an emergency bay at the hospital, and I leapt down as they lowered Kye out. Luckily, the press hadn’t arrived yet, and I knew the others wouldn’t be far behind. I flew in barefoot after the gurney, answering questions as doctors worked frantically on Kye. When I repeated Kye’s medication information, a physician peered at me and asked me to repeat the doses. I did so dumbly, and the doctor began shouting orders at nurses who hurried around.
They rushed Kye out of the bay he was in and away from me. I tried to follow, but a nurse stopped me and led me to the waiting room. Alone, I stared dazed at the wall until I noticed strangers with their phones out taking pictures. I was barefoot and in my sleepwear, and I was a cash cow. Needless to say, I had horrendous bedhead, none of which was important. A scowl crossed my face at the invasion of my privacy, and a couple looked shamefaced. There was a commotion as Bridge and Saint entered, and people gawked as they charged and huddled around me.
“Got your money’s worth?” I sneered at a woman. She didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. Saint broke away and approached a nurse who recognised him and paled before excitement lit her features. Bridge wrapped me in his arms, and I burrowed into his chest. This was not meant to be happening. Kye should be winning this battle, not losing it. I’d no idea what had happened this morning, just knew that Kye had awoken me.
“There’s a private room we can wait in, away from the nosey assholes,” Saint growled, shooting a disdainful look around the people filming or taking photos still.
“Hey man, you’re public; we can do what we want,” the prick replied. My temper flared and not in a safe way.
“You’re public too, so can I pry into your personal life and take pictures of you when you’re upset?” I snarled. A few put their phones away, but the guy faced us, sneering.
“Rumour is your singer took a drug overdose; these will be worth a mint.” I felt rather than saw Saint’s temper flare, which often ended up being resolved with his fists. The nurse approached, and I growled.
“And you know shit dickhead, just another piece of troll trash,” Bridge snapped.
“Get us somewhere private now. We aren’t animals in a fucking zoo!” I spat. The nurse paled, swallowed whatever she’d been about to say, and no doubt it would have been a selfie or autograph request and led us away.
Minutes ticked by as Zyaire, Johnno, Nana, Jed and Jesse arrived. Jesse had a baseball cap pulled low over his face and had buried his chin in his sweater. He whipped both off as soon as he was secure in our privacy and made straight for me. I drew my boy into my arms and gripped Jesse as we watched the second’s tick past silently. None of us had anything to say. Our prayers and strength were directed at Kye.
A doctor entered with a star-struck nurse at his side. The man looked grim and tired, and my stomach dropped. Trying to be prepared, I squared my shoulders, waiting for unwelcome news as the medic ran a hand over his face.
“Mr Knight is stable. Luckily, you got him the help he needed in time. Mr Knight’s heart had stopped, and we’re monitoring him, and we’ve combated the overdose,” the doc said, and I leapt to my feet.
“What overdose?” I demanded. The physician turned to me.
“Miss Markham, are you sure you gave the correct doses to the paramedics and me?” he asked.
“Yes, those are what Kye was prescribed.”
“Then I’m afraid to tell you, Mr Knight was given too high a dose. The dosage he was taking reacted with his other medication, and it caused him to have a fit and his heart to stop. I will contact his oncologist and check that is what he was prescribed. If it is, then Mr Knight was the victim of medical malpractice,” the doctor said, looking unamused.
“Are you telling me we’ve been killing Kye when we’ve made him take those pills?” Bridge exclaimed, horrified.
“No, you did not. I assume you mean you were diligent in ensuring Mr Knight took his medication on time. This overdose is not on your head. My secretary is making the call to Nashville as we speak, and she’ll be checking the quantity without mentioning why. If the dosage differs from what was prescribed, then we can postulate the mishap happened at the pharmacy.”
“Mishap? Kye almost died!” Saint exploded. Zyaire moved to calm him and forced Saint to sit.
“This is no mistake, doc. I want the truth of that prescription. And the long-term effects for Kye?” Nana asked irately.
“Mr Knight might experience heart palpitations, but they will fade after a few days. His immune system is weak. As you know, the effects of chemotherapy do that. Mr Knight has only had two chemo treatments, albeit they were strong doses. I am having his medical records forwarded and will check what other treatment Mr Knight has undergone. But I need you to tell me everything.”