Page 104 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

“Hey,” he says. I know from the angle of his frown that this isn’t forgiveness. It’s momentary peace while we step up for James.

That’s more than enough for me.

“Hey. Any more news from James?”

“Just what’s in his last message,” Nate says. “Cat and Pippa are on their way to the hospital already.”

The elevator doors open again, this time to Ryan who’s already holding up his keys. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”

Nate and I exchange glances as we both do the mental math. Without a doubt, Ryan’s going to speed through the city, ignoring silly things like street signs and common decency to get us to the hospital as fast, or faster, than humanly possible. Visions of police lights flash through my head as I weigh the benefit of reaching James’s side ASAP against risking our lives with Ryan’s driving. Nate apparently reaches the same conclusion I do.

“Fine,” we say simultaneously.

Eight sped-through yellow lights later, Ryan’s Mustang pulls up at Mount Sinai with all its passengers mostly intact. While Ryan finds parking, Nate and I sweet talk the receptionist into letting unapproved non-relatives up to Maura’s hospital room. I have to do a little bicep flexing and winking, but in the end, she blushes and gives us a room number.

Upstairs, the three of us find Pippa, carrying several sodas, still sweaty from the vending machine.

“Hey,” Ryan says, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “What’s the word?”

She tilts her head toward an open door. “I’ll tell you in here, after I put these drinks down.”

It’s an ordinary hospital room, with a few extra chairs dragged in from a waiting room. Cat’s already sitting on the bed. Her smile falters slightly when she sees me, and the reality of the past few weeks comes crashing back in. We’re all here because we care about Maura and James, but it doesn’t erase our problems. It just pushes them to the side momentarily.

“Is this Maura’s room?” Ryan asks.

“No, she’s down the hall. James called the hospital and got them to open an empty room for us. No idea what kind of strings he pulled to make that happen.”

“So what happened to Maura?” Nate asks.

“She was painting in her studio when she had a cardiac episode,” Pippa explains. “She managed to call James before she blacked out. They sent an ambulance, and they’ve been working on stabilizing her.

“How serious is it?” Ryan says.

Pippa shrugs. “I know it hit her hard, but I have no idea what happens now. All I know is the last time I heard, she and the baby were doing okay.”

Just then, Luke appears at the door, holding a little white box. His eyes sweep over everyone, including me. His jaw clenches, and for a moment, I’m absolutely certain that he’s going to punch me again. It’s the first time we’ve been in the same room since the fight. My lip has healed, and by the looks of it, so have Luke’s knuckles.

That doesn’t mean the bruises underneath are gone.

Thankfully, Luke turns to Pippa. “I got James a sandwich from the cafeteria.”

“He’s still on his way from the airport,” she says gently.

“I’ll take it,” Ryan offers.

“I think I’ll just hold onto it till he’s here.”

Luke nods. With the final quick glance at me, he takes a seat on the opposite side of the room. Ryan and Pippa sit by him, while Nate joins Cat on the bed. I’m left awkwardly leaning against the wall with no one to talk to. I pull out my phone, just to have something to do with my hands. There are no new messages, no emails to reply to. I’ve never wished that my job involved more emails until this exact moment.

Then Brinley appears in the doorway, with Eden just behind her. For a moment that feels like hours, we all stare quietly at each other.

“James called me,” Brinley says, defensive even though nobody’s attacked her. “He told me to come.”

“Maura was okay, the last time we heard,” I reassure her. “We’re just waiting for an update.”

“The baby’s fine, too,” Cat adds unprompted. It’s as much a reassurance that nobody plans to fight today as it is reassurance about Maura’s condition.

Eden looks around at the group, then seems to make an executive decision. “How about we turn on some shitty daytime TV?”