Page 8 of Rear View

Xavier

I fuckin’ hated hospitals. Spent too much time in them growing up. Before I was big enough to do anything about my father.

Between the fluorescent lights, the weird cross-scent of panic and chemical cleaners and the dull-ass walls, the place was depressing as hell. They could at least try and cheer the space up a bit. Add some color. Trick the brain into feeling anything else—if that was even a thing.

I’d been there a couple hours before Zoya arrived. She stood across the waiting area, just inside the entrance, watching the lot like she was looking for someone, side-eyeing me every few minutes as she made call after call.

I sat forward, elbows on my knees, attention on the nurses’ station, listening for any word on Ryah.

My phone buzzed and I considered ignoring it but took the thing out anyway. My brows pulled together. Castillo?

The name used to burn me. No surprise there, seeing as Juan Castillo was the Crown attorney that’d sent my ass to juvie for almost two years, till I turned eighteen.

I could still picture the cold-ass interrogation room after I’d been hauled in by the cops and charged. Still see his fancy pin-striped suit, puffed-out chest and greasy coal-black hair from that night, ’cause he’d looked every bit the slick prick I’d thought he was.

He hadn’t bought that I framed my old man alone.

Was pissed as a bull when I’d turned down his offer of “time served” if I’d just rat out my accomplices.

But nothing could’ve made me roll over on Alec or Sean.

Without them, I’d have been stuck in Dad’s house, under his fist, and so would Ma.

The way I saw it, my situation had been a lateral move.

But hers? She’d been free—and not the dead kind like Fallon.

Eventually, though, stuff had gone sideways.

Castillo twisted his pen between his thick fingers. “Are you being threatened to stay quiet, Xavier? If so, the system can protect you—”

“Protect me?” I scoffed. “System’s not built to protect me. It’s built to protect criminals like my father.”

“Criminals?” Castillo cocked his head. “So, people like you?”

“Nah.” I shook my head. “I was just tryin’ my hand at your job, serving up some justice, yeah.”

His eyes narrowed. “You took the law into your own hands.”

My laugh was dark as hell as I rolled my shoulders.

“The law don’t give a shit about me or my ma, Castillo.

If you were really tryin’ to help, you’d have thrown my dad’s ass in jail instead of leaving it to his fuckin’ kid to handle.

” I speared him with my stare as his own fell to his case files.

“So, don’t get this twisted. We ain’t here ’cause of what I did. We’re here ’cause of what you didn’t .”

My phone rang again, jerking me back to the present. Shit between Castillo and me had changed since then. A lot.

“Hey,” I answered, shoulders bunching as I braced myself for whatever he needed to say.

“Xavier,” Castillo said. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah.” I stretched my neck and eyed the nurses’ station again. “What’s up?”

“Your father’s parole hearing is next month.”

I turned to stone. Stopped breathing. My next words were forced through my clenched jaw. “The fuck, Castillo?”

“I know. This one’s out of my hands.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be contacted by the system or somethin’?”

“His crimes fall under property offenses, so no notification is required. Even if it was, you weren’t his victim.” He cleared his throat. “He received a good recommendation from the keeper.”

My hand fisted, ready to hit something—or someone. “Who the hell’s the keeper?”

“The prison system.” He exhaled, good and heavy.

“I checked into it. He started applying for parole the second he stepped inside. With his convictions, he should’ve been out a few years ago, but he must’ve used his connections because he linked up with one of the biker gangs there.

Was found running their money. He’s either been good since then or gotten better at not getting caught.

So, the system gave him the stamp, and the parole board agreed to hear him. ”

I cursed and leaned back in the hard plastic chair, fighting not to crush the phone in my grip. “My ma, Castillo.”

She’d stayed good and hidden. Had changed her identity and lived a quiet life. Was way the hell off the grid, over seven hundred klicks away. But Peter Bosch was a vindictive prick with a need for control. Surer than hell, he’d come for her.

“That’s why I’m calling,” Castillo acknowledged. “I’ve put in a request to attend.”

That was good. “Will you get to talk?”

“No. But if it’s approved, I will get to listen.”

My leg bounced as adrenaline pumped through my veins. “When’s the board give an answer?”

“If it’s an easy yes, immediately. Anything else, they’ll deliberate and come back at a later date with their decision.”

Not ideal, but knowing was better than being blindsided. I rolled my shoulders. My father’d only gotten nine years for both convictions. I knew he’d get out eventually, but that didn’t make the reality of it any easier.

“I’m due in court, but I’ll keep you posted,” Castillo said. “Take care of yourself, Xavier.”

Fuck. “Will do.” The call ended.

Some guy crossed into the ER and Zoya offered him a tight smile. He was tall, maybe two or three inches under me, and built like an athlete. Dark hair, hard eyes creased at the corners. Friend? Ryah’s guy? Something more? My stomach knotted at the idea.

She threw her arms around his neck and one of his hands patted her upper back. A hug between acquaintances. So, not Zoya’s boyfriend. She led him my way and I stood.

“Miles, this is Xavier,” she said. “Xavier, Miles.”

We offered each other nods.

“Where’s my sister?” Miles asked.

The tightness in my shoulders eased. Relief. Fuckin’ relief. “They took her in for scans.”

He eyed me again, that time with more weight. Not a challenge. Not yet. But a vetting. He ticked his chin up. “You’re Xavier Bosch.” The “How the fuck do you know Ryah?” was implied.

“I am.”

“He helped,” Zoya said. “Kept the jerk who hit Ryah from running.”

A few of the lines on Miles’s forehead leveled out.

I extended a hand and he took it. “They brought your sister in quick. Been a while now. I’m hopin’ we’ll hear soon—”

“Excuse me, sir,” one of the nurses called.

Miles and I turned in unison, but the older woman’s eyes were on me. “The young lady’s being moved to a room now. You and your friends are welcome to meet her there.”

The knot in my gut loosened further. “Where do we go?”

She pointed. “Down that hall till you hit the end, then hang a left. It’s room one-oh-three.”

My mouth went dry. Would Ryah be weirded out at me still being there? I hoped not, ’cause I couldn’t leave. Wanted to know she was good. Damn well needed to.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, we aimed that way, and a minute later, crossed into the stark-white and sterile room.

Ryah lay back on the angled bed, a pillow tucked under her head.

There were machines around, but none hooked up to her, which was good.

When she spotted us, she sat up. Her gaze slid from Zoya, to her brother, to me, then held.

She trailed a finger over my coat where it sat in her lap and bit her lip. “You’re still here.”

“Told ya I’d see you soon, darlin’.”

A couple in their early fifties barreled inside, jackets hung over their arms, breathing hard like they’d run to get there.

“Baby!” the woman said as she took Ryah’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, Mom. Just waiting on some results.”

The man, her father if the resemblance meant anything, smoothed her hair back. “You scared us, sweetheart.”

My chest tightened. Family…one that gave a shit. I was glad she had that.

I moved off to the side, taking a spot by the window to give them room.

Miles followed, stopping beside me as we faced his sister. “The jerk that hit her really tried to run?”

“Yep,” I said, controlling the anger that tried real hard to take over my tone.

He clenched his hands by his sides. “Tell me you got a few licks in when you stopped him?”

My lip arced up at the corner. “Sure did.”

He gave me his fist, and I met it with my own.

The guy I pegged as Ryah’s dad looked up like he’d finally realized they weren’t alone. When he spotted me, his head drew back. “You look familiar,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Did I see you on the news last night?”

“Yes, sir.” I stepped forward, offering him my hand in a shake. “Xavier Bosch.”

He took it. “I’m Bill.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re that driver.”

I held my breath, ’cause he either respected what I did, or he didn’t. Things were about to go one of two ways: up, or off the rails.

“That’s me.”

He smiled nice and broad. “You’ve had quite a year.”

I lifted a shoulder. “We’re tryin’.”

His laugh was thick. “You made WRC3. I’d say you’re more than trying.”

“No way,” Miles said.

My brows ticked up and I gestured between them. “You two follow the sport?”

“Enough to understand,” Mr. Nolan said.

Ryah watched us like we talked some other language, and she was trying to figure out the words.

Zoya raised her hand. “What’s, uh. What’s WRC3 mean?”

“It means he’s moved into the World Rally Championship ranks.” Miles’s eyes fixed on me. “For a private team, right?”

“Yep.” Jesus, it was strange to have people recognize me…and show interest.

Mr. Nolan inclined his head. “That’s real good, son.”

Son. The word struck. My father’d used it too, always a taunt, so it hit different hearing it the way Mr. Nolan said it, with something like pride.

He shifted his weight to his back foot. “What do you have under the hood? Five hundred horsepower?”

I grinned. “Five fifty.”

He loosed a low, impressed whistle before his attention tracked back to his daughter.

She must’ve seen the same question in his expression that I did, ’cause she cut in before he could ask. “Xavier brought me here.”

Her father smirked. “Fast, I bet.”

Everyone laughed.

Ryah’s phone pinged on her bedside table. Her gaze flicked that way and her eyes went wide. The color drained from that perfect face as she flipped the thing over, her chest hitching on a rapid breath.

I cocked my head, stare narrowing until my focus was pulled when Doctor Vernon sauntered in, flicking through a chart. His attention lifted, landed on me, then dropped again.

That’s right, dickhead.

Stopping at the end of Ryah’s bed, he said, “Your scans are clear. Just some bruised ribs. You’ll be sore for a while, but you’ll be fine. No permanent damage.” He tapped the footboard. “I’ll write up your discharge papers and we’ll get you on your way.”

The pressure that’d constricted my chest vanished, and I took an easy breath for the first time in hours. Fuck me. But the need to take care of her… I couldn’t shake it. Not that I wanted to.

She swallowed hard like she was workin’ to steady herself, smoothing those small hands along my coat again. I shifted, and gripped my opposite wrist.

My phone buzzed with a text and I frowned as I pulled it out.

Alec: Hey. Earl called. Says he needs us for some approvals.

Me: When’s he want them?

Alec: Today. I’m parked out front in the main lot when you’re ready.

Damn.

Me: Be there in a minute.

Shoving it back in my pocket, I turned to Miles. “Might wanna watch that doctor, yeah?”

He eyed me. “Why? Something happen?”

“Guy was gettin’ a little handsy before.”

His chin angled up. “I’m on it.”

Pulling a receipt and a pen from my pocket, I scribbled my info on the back, then stepped forward. I found those pretty copper eyes and set my hand on the edge of her bed. “I gotta jet.”

Ryah’s lips arced down, and I wanted to take it as a compliment, but getting my hopes up was a dangerous game. Didn’t stop me from trying, though.

Taking my coat, she passed it back. “Don’t forget this.”

I wanted to so it’d give me a reason to come back. But I gave her a grin and accepted it, then shrugged it on.

Mrs. Nolan’s gaze softened. “Thank you for everything, Xavier.”

“No trouble, ma’am,” I said, and meant it, before I handed the paper to Ryah. “That’s my number, darlin’. Gimme a call if you need anything.” A statement for the cops, help getting around, a date. Whatever. For dream girl, I was a full-service station.

She took it, the note crinkling when she flattened it against her lap. Pink flooded her cheeks again, and she offered me a small smile. “I will.”

Wait. She’d call? Or she’d think about calling? Dammit! I cleared my throat and headed for the door, eyeing her over my shoulder. Her gaze crashed with mine, and I offered her a wink. That pink morphed to red.

Oh, she’d call.

I tapped the doorframe, flying high when I aimed for the hall, until I spotted the preppy blond guy who was heading in. He gave me a once-over before he found Ryah. My girl’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, and my chest tightened all-fuckin’-over again when he bent down and encased her in a hug.

Well, shit.