Changing Roles

“Any change?” I knew he’d been using the plane’s satellite phone to check in with Cassidy—I could barely think, never mind talk. Everett hadn’t left Shelby’s bedside. The only message I asked to pass along was to make sure Shelby had the best care available and a private room. Anything she needed, she was to have. He assured me Cassidy would take care of it all.

He shook his head. “No. Ryan is out of surgery, though. He did well.”

“Good.”

“Almost there. Hold on.”

I shut my eyes. “Thanks.”

I had no idea what was waiting for me.We landed in a private area of the airport and taxied into a hangar. As soon as we hit the ground, I was on the phone to Samuels, who had been in contact with Cassidy. I gave him instructions on what I wanted to happen. If he was surprised at my sudden take-charge attitude, he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. I called my parents, who sent their prayers and told me to keep them posted, then called Douglas from the car, knowing Caroline would be with him. He knew what had happened, was horrified, and wanted to do something to help. He told me as soon as I had news to contact him. He was keeping Caroline away from the hospital until he heard from me. We both knew it would be a mob scene there, and it was best for her to stay at home.

Cassidy had arranged for the car to bring me to a service entrance, so I was able to get inside the hospital without incident. The paps were all hanging outside the front and sides, waiting for me to show up later. Cassidy had issued a statement saying I was on a later flight; therefore, they weren’t expecting me yet. She was waiting for me by the elevator, pale and tense. She flung her arms around me, and I held her, grateful for the sight of a friendly face. Pulling back, I scanned her anxious eyes. “Is she awake?”

“No.” She paused, her voice quiet. “She’s in a coma, Liam.”

I tightened my hands on her arms. “Coma?”

Her eyes glimmered with tears. “That’s what they are calling it now. There’s no brain swelling, though, which is a good sign. The doctor can tell you more.”

“I need to see her.”

She nodded. “It’s family only, but Everett made arrangements for that to be overlooked.”

I snorted. That wouldn’t stop me. Nothing was stopping me from seeing my Beaker.

“You haven’t seen her?”

“Only briefly.” She squeezed my shoulder. “She’s really banged up. Lots of bruises and cuts. Her head is also bandaged.”

My stomach lurched, and I covered my mouth, hoping I didn’t heave again.

“They have her on pain meds. They promised Everett she was comfortable.”

“Now, Cassidy. I need to see her now,” I insisted.

“I’ll take you to her.”She was still and silent. Even when sleeping, Shelby moved; her nose scrunched, mouth pursed, fingers twitched, toes curled, and her legs shifted constantly. And when she wasn’t moving or twitching, she mumbled. Often my name, and frequently it was followed by a low sigh or giggle. Usually watching and listening to her was entertaining for me. But seeing her lying there, utterly motionless, brought tears to my eyes. She was small and fragile-looking, her head swathed in thick, white gauze, her hair almost hidden, only the ends peeking out at the back. She was deathly pale, with bruises and scrapes scattered over one side of her face. Her arms were covered in more bruises, one arm encased in heavy plaster, the other lying limp on the bed. An IV was hooked up, the needle piercing her skin, and I swallowed deeply looking at it, the tears beginning to fall down my cheeks.

Shelby hated needles.

Monitors beeped and made strange noises in the stillness of the room. Oxygen was steadily pumped into her. Beside her was Everett—her brother, my friend, looking more broken and lost than I had ever seen him. Always so strong, so much larger than life, he sat beside her, her small hand enclosed in his, just staring at her as if he were willing her to open her eyes and look at him. He hadn’t even looked up to see me enter the room, his every sense focused on his sister. His shoulders were hunched, his body tense. I wondered how he would react to seeing me. He must be angry—this was my fault. Because she loved me, she was hurt. I brought her into this crazy life I led. I promised him I’d keep her safe, and I had failed.

“Everett,” I murmured, surprised to hear how raspy my voice sounded.

His head snapped up, and our eyes met. His blue ones, so like Shelby’s, were swirling with pain and grief as they met mine. Standing up, he lunged, and the next thing I knew, his huge arms were around me and we were both sharing our pain. When I felt his shoulders shaking, my own emotions peaked, and I gripped him hard. “I’m sorry, Everett. I’m so fucking sorry.”