Page 45

“Miss, this is a family only area. You will need to head back to the waiting room.”

I stare at the wispy thin blonde nurse, my quick tongue now sluggish. What do I say?

She’s right. I’m not anything to Dalton. Not officially. Two nights ago, we committed to trying this thing out, only to be forced apart the very next morning. We had no official titles. No definitions. I glance at Dalton’s slack face.

What would he want? Would he even want me here?

“She’s family,” Kathy says, deciding for me. “She’s his fiancée.”

Thankfully, I’m so numb, the shock doesn’t register on my face. I just stare at the woman, holding Dalton’s hand tighter.

The nurse raises an eyebrow, skimming the clipboard in her hands. “She’s not on the emergency contact list—I only have you two. She doesn’t even have a badge.”

“Yes, well, most healthy twenty-seven-year-olds don’t go about updating their emergency contacts regularly, do they?” Kathy snaps, earning a hand on the shoulder from Mike, who is nodding while holding his wife back.

“Not according to the post I saw last night. Ellie said Dalton is her new beau, even wore the same dress as she did on their dream date. I’m sure she would be shocked to find he has a fiancée.

” The nurse’s eyes narrow. Acid roils in my stomach like molten lava at the way she uses their first names.

Like she knows Ellie and Dalton personally, like following them on social media makes them official real life besties.

Red surges up Kathy’s neck into her white hairline, but I’m the one who explodes.

“How dare you assume our relationship status based on social media smut? You don’t know her and you certainly don’t know this man.

Ellie Edwards is a psychopath. He’s in the process of getting a restraining order against that bitch.

So if anyone lets that woman anywhere near Dalton or shares on socials that he’s here, we will sue the shit out of them and this hospital.

Spread the word to your team. Dalton’s name is to be kept private on all boards and public paperwork.

He is not some spectacle for you to live vicariously through.

He is a patient who deserves your professionalism.

And that dress? That was my fucking dress!

Me in those pictures with him, not that it’s any of your damn businesses.

Now, do you want to cross more ethical boundaries to tell me again who my fiancé is dating, or would you like to do your fucking job?

” I’m standing at the foot of Dalton’s bed, holding the rail for support, teeth bared.

Her smug I-watch-TMZ-and-thus-know-everything-about-these-people expression vanishes. “I’m… um, I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, get you a badge, Miss…”

“Jenna Grant.”

The nurse mutters what sounds like another apology, at least having the wherewithal to look abashed before slipping out.

“Thank you.” I bark, returning to Dalton’s side. Kathy and Mike are smiling when I look up.

“Well said,” Mike says, eyes wide.

“Harsh,” I admit, but staring down at Dalton’s bruised, swollen face, there isn’t a hint of guilt to muster.

“You were defending him and demanding anonymity. I’m not sure Dalt’s had a woman do that for him since he became a hockey star.”

“He deserves better than that.” I think of Ellie, of all the women who slipped him underwear, looking for a celebrity screw, never seeing Dalton for the man he is.

“We couldn’t agree more.” They say in near unison.

“Thank you for saying I’m family.” I flash a watery smile.

“Darling, if Dalton’s too dumb to keep you, we will.” Kathy reaches over to squeeze my hand. Our laughter is rough and short-lived, yet somehow it eases just the slightest bit of ache in my heart.

Every minute that slips by without results is torture.

We move around the small room, lost moons caught in Dalton’s orbit.

The machines whir and beep, but he doesn’t wake up.

I send messages to Lacey and Ramona, letting them know the situation.

Ramona agrees to have Frank start the paperwork for the restraining order today.

I’m not leaving his side and I don’t want Ellie showing up like a hellish jack-in-the-box.

One good side of our access to the team’s files is the disclosed issues with Ellie’s stalking incidents.

When Dalton wakes up, all he has to do is sign.

It feels like years have passed when a doctor comes in with good news.

Mike drops into the nearest chair, full body sobbing with relief, while I sink back into the wall for support.

Only Kathy keeps her shit together. The compression caused a minor fracture and swelling.

He has a grade-three concussion, but they have high hopes Dalton will make a full recovery once the swelling goes down.

When a flurry of nurses arrive to check vitals and change some dressings on his face, we step into the hall.

For the first time in an hour, I check my phone.

Fifteen missed messages and a voicemail.

Excusing myself, I walk a little farther down the hall.

I click on Dad’s name first, playing the voicemail. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying he’s okay. I can’t handle anything else right now.

“Hey, Jellybean!”

My shoulders relax as soon as I hear his gruff, cheery voice. This is a good call. The bad ones never start with my childhood nickname.

“I wanted to call and tell you to stop working so hard. And to thank that new boyfriend of yours. The paperwork he started for me came through. The grants are going to help me with over half of the medical bills, baby! Can you believe it? When it’s all finalized, I want to bring Helen.

Come visit you two in New York. Give that man a proper hug.

I know he wanted it to be a surprise, but I had to tell you as soon as I found out.

I’m going to pay back every cent you covered of my bills, Jellybean.

I love you so much. Call me so we can celebrate. ”

Dalton has been helping my dad get grants to cover his medical bills?

I play the message three times. Fresh tears well in my eyes, blurring the hallway into a beige blob. Sniffing, I brush them away. I’m warring with the idea of calling him back when a new message pops up.

Ramona: Ding, dong. Restraining orders filed. The Vortex’s lawyer took care of it. I emailed paperwork to the hospital, you’re cc’d. No press leaks about your location yet. Keeping an eye out.

Orders? With an s? Has to be a typo. I clear her message, jumping to my inbox.

Not a typo.

There are two restraining orders there. One for Ellie and one for Trent.

I shoot Ramona a quick thank you. After what that asshole did to Dalton today, I’ll happily take both.

The remaining fifteen messages are from Lacey.

Skimming the obscene amount of OMGs and WTFs, I pick out several details.

A live stream from Trent has gone viral.

This has to be the reason The Vortex filed the restraining orders.

Three of the links Lacey sent have been removed from the platform. The final is an actual download.

My finger hovers over the video. Pausing to turn down the volume, I tap it.

Trent’s face appears way too close to the screen.

There’s a constellation of cuts down the right side of his face that matches Dalton’s.

Pupils blown wide, the glassy quality is identical to the night of the sponsor event when he showed up drunk.

He’s walking around an apartment, bumping into shit and spilling an amber glass of liquid as he gesticulates to the camera.

I tap up the volume until I can hear what he’s saying.

“Banned from the league for one hit. Fucking babies. Fuck them and fuck Dalton Ward. And you know what? Fuck you too, Ellie-dick-sucking-Edwards! I loved you… I worshiped you! You asked me to kill him and I said yes! We were fucking planning that shit and then you fucking dump me to take him to The Oscars. Ask me to kill a man and then dump me for that asshole. Fucking cunt! Fuck you… Can’t take him to your precious Oscars with a broken neck, can you?

” Trent’s unhinged cackle sends a chill through the marrow of my bones.

The video cuts out just as he flips off the camera and downs the glass.

It replays and I lock my screen, pressing the phone’s corner to my mouth. Holy crap.

I’m still processing Trent’s drunken allegations when Kathy’s voice calls down the hall.

“He’s awake and asking for you.”