Undone (Wild Men 2)

I need to call Hailey.

“Some people are here to see you,” the nurse says, a nice lady with a low voice that is very much appreciated, given how my headache only has a) blinding or b) ‘shoot-me-now’ levels.

“Hailey?” I rasp hopefully. I’ve asked for her several times only to be told they don’t have her contact information.

I really need to declare her as my next of kin one of these days.

“No, not Hailey,” she says, dashing my hopes. “Your family is here.”

“Really?” I blink at her nonplussed. “So fast? I’ve only been here an hour.”

She blinks back at me. “You have been here since yesterday, Kaden.”

The hell she says.

“Very funny,” I whisper and rub at my eyes. My vision keeps going blurry. “Ha ha.”

“I’ll send them in.” She turns and goes without cracking a smile, dammit.

Since yesterday. Sure.

Whatever.

But then the door opens again and my mom walks in, so how…? This is surreal.

Maybe I’m dreaming.

Yeah, I have to be dreaming, because my brother follows behind her with his girl and his two kids.

“Matt?” I choke out. “Mom? What are you guys doing here?”

“What do you think, you oaf?” my brother grumbles, leaving the kids with his girl –Octavia, yeah, that’s her name – and plants his ass on my bed. “Visiting.”

“Right,” I mutter, because I’m too tired to bitch. Besides, it’s nice to see them.

Really fucking nice, and for some reason my eyes start to burn, and oh fuck no, I’m about to bawl like a baby.

Christ.

I’m sick. That must be it.

“I’m sick, right?” I lift a hand to my eyes and it comes away wet. Jesus fuck. “What is it, am I dying and you’re not telling me, huh? That why you all gathered at my bedside?”

One of the kids suddenly starts to cry, and Octavia grabs both kids and leaves the room.

I’m breathing hard. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I’m not sure I wanna find out.

“Nobody’s dying,” Matt says firmly, although there’s a crack in his voice. He looks away for a second, as if to compose himself.“You will be fine, jackass, so don’t talk of death in front of my kids, okay? They’re traumatized enough as it is.”

It takes me a moment to process this, and my brain aches like a fucker as it comes back to me.

Matt’s wife. The kids’ mother. She died of cancer a few years back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“S’ okay.” He pats my shoulder and it sends shockwaves through my head that make me wince. “How you feeling?”

The question is fucking proof that something did happen to me. But what?