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“I’m fine. I need to find Seth. Seth Tucker. I’m family.”
She opens her mouth to say something, seems to think better of it, and leads the way. She opens a door and hesitates. “Seth Tucker… he’s been admitted here before, a few months back. Another beating. You say you’re family. Is it someone in the house who’s beating you boys up?”
I’m touched by her concern. Her hazel eyes are kind.
“No, I say, it’s just—”
“Bad luck,” Seth says from inside the room, and I push the door open all the way. “Motherfucker, I’ve been asking and asking about you and nobody would fucking tell me where you were.”
The nurse departs, saying something about the doctor, and I take in Seth’s state.
Well, apart from the new cast on his leg, he doesn’t seem too bad for wear. Of course, that cast is a big thing. Hard to miss.
“Broken, huh?” I sink on the bed, bone-weary. “Shit.”
“Told you I got shit for luck.” He shoots me a crooked grin. “Not your fault.”
Yeah, right.
Goddammit. Seth is still recovering from the beating he got from Ev’s psychotic ex-boyfriend, and now this.
“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so damn sorry.”
“Shut up, J. I said it’s not your fault. In fact, I’m g
lad to see you alive. I swear I thought they’d kill you, and I couldn’t even move.” He winces as he shifts on the bed, and I remember the thugs kicking him and beating him with the bats. “We need to change lifestyle, buddy. Somewhere tropical with palm trees and cocktails would do in a pinch.”
Lifestyle. That word again. I reach up to rub the back of my head and everything hurts. My side, my arm, my head. Ow, the back of my head is killing me. I can feel a lump there. My jaw hurts like a bitch, and I bet I have a black eye from the blow.
Christ. That was close. A shiver travels through me, and I do my best to hide it, gripping the edge of the narrow hospital bed.
“I need to talk to the police.”
***
The doctor proclaims me well enough to leave, filling out a prescription of strong painkillers and instructions to return if I experience double vision or nausea. A policeman—detective? Not sure—comes by to take our statement, and he leaves thoughtful after I explain to him my history with Simon and his position in the street hierarchy.
Before he leaves, though, he assures me Simon is going to jail, and will go on trial, and that’s good. It’s all I need to know right now.
Because I have just found out, by chance, that Mel is here, too. Mel Carter, the owner of the taco joint. My friend.
He had a heart attack soon after I left work. Not a very bad one, and it looks like he’s gonna be okay. His family’s here. His niece is apparently living in Madison, and she was listed as next of kin. She’s sitting by his side right now, and he’s smiling at her, partly proud, partly wistful. One hundred percent pleased.
And also pale. Sickly. So different, and yet the same guy who offered me food and a temporary shelter in bad times.
I’ve been peeking in from the half-open door. I don’t want to interrupt, and I don’t want him seeing me like this, limping, covered in scrapes and bruises.
Don’t want to intrude. He’s finally gotten back what he longed for: His family. His niece is telling him her father is on his way. They’ll reconcile. He’ll be with them.
I guess he’ll move back to the farm. Close down the taco joint. He won’t need me around anymore. Yeah, so I’m really happy for him. Fucking glad.
Doesn’t make it any easier, though. I walk away, wandering blindly through the hospital, through brightly lit passages and halls, not knowing where I’m going and not giving a damn.
Chapter Twenty One
Amber
Armed with the lion pendant that I’ve wrapped up in red paper, dressed in an old, white and yellow summer dress that flatters my curves—or so Kayla told me—I stand outside Jesse’s apartment. According to my meticulous calculations, he should be back from working at the café by now.
