Page 24

“What’s all this bullshit about you testifying in a court case?”

I sighed. This was the last thing I needed to deal with at the moment.

“How did you even find out—?”

I broke off. I knew the answer to that question already, although I wish I didn’t. He had connections, people who owed him favors, people he could squeeze or threaten or cajole for information. The line between right and wrong, illegal and justified, was an incredibly gray, foggy area with him. I’d learned a long time ago that I shouldn’t look too closely at club business.

“It’s no big deal,” I added. “And it’s none of your concern anyway.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I clenched my teeth.

“Like I said, it’s none of your concern. You were supposed to lose my number. Don’t make me get a restraining order.”

A beat of silence emanated over the phone. The threat of taking legal action to prevent him from accessing me was an empty threat. I’d never follow through. Neil wasn’t a danger to me—overly protective, yes. But he would never hurt a single hair on my head.

As I rounded a corner, I found myself at the emergency entrance. Two medics pushed a gurney through the double doors, bearing a teenager in a neck brace, blood coating her right pant leg from knee to ankle.

“Car accident,” one medic announced as a team of nurses rushed to take over. “Young female, sixteen years old. Leg was pinned under the dashboard. Looks like she might have some head trauma as well.”

“Where are you?” Neil’s voice was firm, but there was no mistaking the undeniable edge of apprehension in his tone.

I dragged my attention away from the medical team who raced off to the emergency room.

“I'm fine, Neil."

“Are you at the hospital?” he pressed, relentless as always. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

I rubbed my forehead, fatigue settling heavily into my bones. I sank into a nearby chair and closed my eyes. I really needed to change my phone number…

“Neil,” I pleaded. “You have to stop. Please. Connie had her baby. That’s all. I’m at the hospital to help her out.”

He went quiet again.

“Didn’t you say she was having a boy?” he asked softly.

I huffed a dry laugh. By the time Connie announced her first pregnancy, Neil and I had already been divorced for several years. Seeing my sister having a baby while I still couldn’t get over the separation with my ex-husband, brought up so much grief that I cut all contact with Neil entirely.

“Yeah, that was Wylie,” I said. “He’s five years old now.”

Neil blew out a breath, incredulous.

“Has it really been that long?”

I hummed, but didn’t say anything. It felt like a lifetime. We were supposed to spend forever together. Not eternally apart like this.

“Did Connie pull through okay?” Neil asked.

My heart squeezed. My sister was part of my life, not his. He lost the privilege to know anything about me as soon as he signed those divorce papers. I wanted to tell him off, to push him away. But my sister was surrounded by her loving family, and I was drifting through the hallways alone, with the tinny echo of Neil’s voice over the phone to keep me company. Despite my better judgment, I wished selfishly that he could be here with me.

“She’s good,” I whispered. “Both Connie and the baby are healthy and strong. She had a little girl.”

“What’s her name?” Neil said.

I hesitated, scrubbing at the fabric of my jeans with my thumbnail.I shouldn't tell him,I thought.I’ve said too much already.

“Emma Rose,” I replied. “All ten fingers and toes are intact. Looks like a miniature version of Connie.”