Page 58 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

Madden

The sound of slow, steady beeps pulls me from sleep, and the second I open my eyes, a sharp pain slices through my head. Almost like someone is taking a butcher knife and driving it clean into my temple, and it’s enough to have me jerking my arm up to stop it.

The beeping isn’t helping matters either, and I have to push through the disorientation to focus on where I am. Though, paired with the stark-white walls I caught a glimpse of before slamming my eyes closed, I think I’m in a hospital.

How long have I been out?

Gingerly, I shift my weight to sit up, but a hand lands on my arm to stop me.

“Sweetheart, don’t move.”

“Mom? What…?” I blink my eyes open again, my hazy vision slowly st arting to clear as I look at her. “What are you doing here?”

My eyes sink closed again, a wave of nausea slamming into me as I try to make sense of what’s going on. Because she should be in St. Louis right now. At work, right? So why is she—

It all comes rushing back, hitting me at a hundred miles an hour like a freight train.

Like a fucking car wreck.

The pennant, the fight, the words that finally found their way into existence. The truck running the red light and slamming into the passenger side of Theo’s car.

Theo.

My eyes shoot open, and I sit up despite the glaring pain in my head and muscles. But I ignore all signs of discomfort and pain and ask, “Where’s Theo?”

Mom frowns, two lines forming between her dark, manicured brows. “He’s been admitted too. But, Madden—”

I don’t give her the chance to finish; I’m already shoving out of my hospital bed, needing to get to him. To see for myself that he’s okay.

The ground is unsteady beneath my feet, and my stomach roils as it threatens to dispel its contents.

There’s a tug inside my elbow before I realize I’m hooked to an IV line.

I hear my mother call my name—pleading with me to get back into bed—as I rip it out of my skin, uncaring of the blood dripping down my arm after.

A few wobbled strides later and I’m at the door, ready to bolt in whatever direction Theo is in.

I don’t give a flying fuck that I’m in one of those godforsaken hospital gowns either, but then I realize I have no idea where he is.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find her watching me with concern that I don’t have the time for.

Not until I see him and know he’s okay too.

“What room?”

Her eyes soften, and she shakes her head. “Sweetheart—”

“What room, Mom?” I snap, my voice tinged with fear and frustration.

I wince at the sharpness in my tone after the words leave my lips. I’ve never spoken to her like that before, and from the way she sits up straighter and blinks, she must be as taken aback by it as I am.

“Three-eighteen,” she says softly as her brows knit in concern. “But, Madden, he’s probably still unconscious from the anesthesia.”

My intentions come grinding to a halt, my palm still wrapped around the door handle, as I process her words. Because anesthesia means he was put under for surgery. And if he needed surgery…

Fuck.

All of the worst possible scenarios enter my mind at one time, and I grip the door handle tighter as I try not to drown in the worry caused by the unknown. My chest tightens, constricting my lungs and stealing my breath, and no amount of shoving them away works for long.

Resting my forehead against the cool metal door, I ask the only question that comes to mind, all the while being terrified of the answer.

“How bad is it?”

There’s silence before her hand comes to rest on my back. “You should really sit down—”

“Don’t tell me to sit—”

“Madden Jude,” my mother reprimands before I can finish.

Her scolding tone causes me to turn and look at her.

There’s a hint of empathy in her dark eyes, but the harshness in her words leaves little room for debate on the matter.

“I understand you’re worried about Theo, but you have to take care of yourself too.

Get in bed, and I’ll tell you everything I know. ”

It takes every fiber of my self-control to release my hold on the door handle and head back to the bed.

Part of me even considers making a break for it anyway, but Mom—knowing me better than I know myself—has already hit the call button for a nurse to get my IV put back in.

She arrives only a few minutes later, and I don’t even notice as they insert the needle into my other arm.

I’m too busy fighting the nausea and terror inside me as I stare at my mom, waiting for the information that very well might break me into a million pieces.

After the nurse cleans up the blood from my other arm and disappears out the door, my mother finally puts me out of my misery.

“Theo was rushed into surgery when you both arrived from the scene,” she tells me slowly.

“His right leg had a compound fibula fracture, and they took him in to repair it with pins. He also has a pretty severe concussion and whiplash from the sudden collision. But, sweetheart, I promise, other than that, he’s okay. ”

Other than that.

I could almost laugh at the blasé way she says it, though I’m fully aware she’s trying to be helpful. But it’s not, because he’s somewhere in this hospital, hurting, because of me. And I’m stuck in this goddamn bed with barely more than a scratch on me, from what I can tell.

My fingers rap on the bed railing, and I keep my mind wrapped tightly around the last threads of composure I have like they’re a lifeline.

“I have to see him. I need to be there when he wakes up.”

“No, right now you need to take care of yourself,” she repeats, albeit a little more gently this time. “You have a concussion too, and you’re pretty banged up. ”

I wave her off. “Nothing’s broken. I’m fine.”

But Theo…

The thought of him is enough to cause those few threads to snap without warning.

My throat constricts, more fear and worry working their way into my windpipe until I can’t breathe around it.

The oxygen won’t flow into my lungs; it catches on the knot lodged there with any attempt I make to draw breath.

My shoulders hitch with effort until I start to shake, and the second my mother’s arms wrap around me, I feel like I could crack into a thousand shards at her feet.

“Sweetie, you have to calm down, or the nurses are gonna have to come in and sedate you.”

But I can’t calm down. I’m overwhelmed with guilt as it crashes over me and drags me out into a sea of regret. One I’m not strong enough to tread the depths of, so the only thing I can do is drown.

“It’s all my fault, Mom. I was driving and we were arguing, and…” I draw in a deep breath, trying to regain my composure that’s long since turned into fragments. The only thing I can think, the only words I can speak, are—

“I have to see him.”

It comes out as a strange mixture of a plea and a wail, and though I can tell it breaks her heart, she remains steadfast in her resolve.

“You need to rest,” she insists, her tone gentle and soothing. “Adam and his mom are in there with him. He’s not alone, sweetheart.”

“You don’t understand,” I implore, the words coming out dragged over shattered glass.

“I think I do, my love. I think I understand perfectly.”

Her fingers brush through my hair, nails scraping against my scalp the way she’d always do when I was a kid whenever I’d need soothing. But it does nothing for me now.

Doesn’t remotely quell the anxiety buzzing through my body like angry hornets.

I’ve never felt more helpless than I do right now. Even the moments from my childhood with Dad and his addiction, watching Mom struggle after his death…they don’t hold a candle to the pain and fear consuming me right now.

I shake my head, over and over again, because she can’t understand. Even though she’s gone through losing my father, she doesn’t know what this feels like. To feel this kind of guilt for hurting the person I love most in this world—even more than I love her.

It’s that same truth that spills from my lips as my shoulders quake with emotion. “Mom. I love him. I love him so much.”

Her arms wrap around me tighter, squeezing me to her chest with my face tucked into the side of her neck. As if she has the power to hold all my pieces together when they’re threatening to fall apart.

“Of course you do, sweetheart. Why else would you be hurting this much?”

I hear her soft sniffles, and I know she has to be thinking about my dad—about what it was like to be in this position, only for it to end in a completely different way.

And, God, if that doesn’t make me feel even guiltier. Because she already lost a man she loved once, and if my actions end up doing the same with Adam—

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom.” Another choked noise leaves me and I shake some more. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want to ruin things for you and Adam, but I—”

“Oh, I know. Shh. Madden, it’s okay,” she insists gently. “You don’t need to worry about me or Adam or anything else, okay? Everything will work out just fine.”

She presses a gentle kiss to the side of my head while her palms coast up and down my arms. I feel one of her tears fall onto my forearm before she wipes it away, and it only makes my own fall faster.

“Madden, shh. Sometimes things happen that are out of our control. You can’t help who you fall in love with, sweetheart.

I understand that more than anyone.” She pulls back and forces my chin up to meet her gaze.

The tears are spilling over from her eyes too, and she gives me the best smile she can manage.

“And those Greyson men are particularly hard to resist.”

A watery laugh leaves me, and I fall back into her embrace, squeezing her tight and making no signs of letting go.

And she just holds me like that. Allowing me to sink into her warmth, her nurturing presence, her solidity.

She keeps her arms wrapped around me long after my raging emotions have subsided and I can finally breathe normally.