Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

“You can drop me off and I’ll just run in.” She points to the big box electronics store at one end of the mall.

“Hell no.” I’m offended she thinks I’d let her run around a strange place she’s never been before by herself. All she needs is some dickhead from last night recognizing and harassing her while I’m sitting in the truck with my thumb up my ass. Not happening.

I back Murphy’s truck into a spot and help her down. “You know what you want?”

“I have an idea.”

The electronics store has seen better days. Guess most people order shit online now. But it doesn’t seem to faze Shelby. She heads to the middle of the store and picks up an MP3 player and a gift card. For a second she stands there, biting her thumbnail, her gaze roaming over the aisles.

“What else do you need?” I ask.

“I’m not sure.”

She ends up grabbing a pair of pink headphones before hurrying up to the register. When I offer the clerk my card, Shelby pushes my hand away. “This stuff isn’t for me.”

The girl’s barely making any money from this tour but she’s buying shit for a kid she doesn’t even know?

“I got it,” I assure her, shoving my card into the machine’s slot when the clerk gives me the okay.

“Rooster,” she sighs.

“We can argue about it later. We’re running late.” I grab the bag and take Shelby’s hand, hustling her out of the store.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Thank fuck Heidi gave us specific directions. Empire Med is huge. And although I recently spent a lot of time here when Murphy was in the hospital, I don’t think I would’ve found my way to the children’s wing easily. It has its own separate entrance a few blocks away from the main building.

I pull into a parking spot and hop out. While I’m unloading Shelby’s guitar and bags, I catch her still sitting in the passenger seat with her eyes closed.

By the time I make it to her side of the truck, she’s jumping down onto the pavement.

“I can take something.” She reaches for the guitar case but I shift sideways.

“I’ve got it.” I lift my chin toward the front of the building. “Go on. I’m right behind you.”

Inside is more homey than hospital-y but it’s still a sterile environment. Splashes of color and cartoon-filled posters attempt to make it kid-friendly but somehow it just makes the place more depressing.

A slender woman with chestnut hair wearing a green-print wraparound dress meets us by the front desk.

“Shelby Morgan, right? I’m Elaine.” She holds out her hand. “I can’t thank you enough for making time today.”

“No problem.” Shelby’s soft voice doesn’t carry far.

The woman’s confused gaze darts between Shelby and me.

Shelby touches my arm. “This is my friend, Logan. He offered me a ride today.”

I’ve offered you a lot more than a ride. But this isn’t really the time or place for off-color jokes. My hands are full, so I simply nod at the woman.

She thanks me and asks us to follow her down the long, wide corridor.

“Bethany is so excited. She really wanted to see you in concert last night, and we were trying to make that work. But her doctors couldn’t give the okay for the outing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Shelby says.

We stop at a nursing station and Elaine confers with a woman in scrubs. They ask Shelby a few questions before allowing us to continue.

We walk to the end of a long corridor before stopping outside the last room on the left. A big window at the end of the hallway looks out into the parking lot. Elaine knocks on the door. Shelby turns and leans up on her tiptoes. “Can you send me the video you took last night?” she asks in a low voice.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” She takes her guitar case from me, tucking it close to her body, careful not to knock into anything while entering the small hospital room.

Not wanting to intrude on the moment, I hang back, setting the bags on the windowsill behind me.

“Bethany, someone’s here to see you,” Elaine says in a cheery voice.

“Hi!” Even from where I’m standing, Shelby’s bright smile lights up the whole damn room. “Are you Bethany?”

“That’s me!” a little girl squeals.

The mom, who doesn’t look much older than Shelby, rests her hand over her heart. “Thank you so much, Shelby,” she says. “This means a lot.”

“I’m glad it worked out.”

“She’s having a good day, so…”

Shelby puts her arms around the woman’s shoulders, leaning close to say words that don’t reach me.

“Hi.” Shelby approaches the bed and Elaine hurries over to push a chair next to it for Shelby.

There’s not a lot of room to move around but somehow, Shelby sets her case down and pulls the guitar out. Their conversation’s soft and easy; most of it I can’t make out and I don’t dare move any closer or intrude. If my big ass could blend into the wallpaper, that’d be ideal.