“What?” His voice was so loud they’d probably heard it from Louisiana without the phone. “Do you need us to come down there, Alyssa?”
“No,” she said weakly. “They’re going to release me tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know.”
“We’ll come down there,” Mason said firmly.
“No, it’s okay.” She glanced at someone off camera. A doctor or nurse perhaps? Then the view blurred as someone—not Alyssa—picked up the phone. When the picture cleared, a tall man with brown hair was crouched next to the bed, his head near Alyssa’s. He held the phone away from them as if his arm was a selfie stick.
“Listen, you folks don’t need to worry,” he said. “Lyss is the most amazing woman in the world, and I’m going to take good care of her.”
Lyss?
“Are you a doctor?” Mason asked.
The man shook his head. Even while trying to make sense of this bizarre situation, I couldn’t help noticing how handsome he was—and how adoringly he looked at Alyssa. Then he stood up, taking the phone with us.
“Put Alyssa back on,” Mason demanded.
The man shook his head. “We’ve got to let you go. The doctor’s here.”
We?
“We’ll call you back when we can.” The video cut out and Mason’s phone screen went blank. He still stared at it for a while longer. Then he turned to me, confusion and anger warring across his face.
“Who the fuck was that guy?”