Resist (Sphere of Irony 3)

“I don’t have to be okay with it, Robert. It’s not my decision to make.”

“Mom? Dad? Can you fight somewhere else?” I attempt to joke even though my body is aching and weary and I would give an arm right now for a sip of water.

“Mitch!” My mom hurries over to the side of my bed, gently pushing my hair off my forehead. “How do you feel, love?”

“Like shit. What happened?” I cough and wince, the fire in my chest returning, but not nearly as bad as before.

“Oh love,” my mom’s eyes begin to fill with tears.

“Phillipa, let me talk to him,” a gentle voice says from behind my mom.

“We’ll go get coffee,” my dad respond, his tone abrupt.

“Sasha?” My former coworker takes a seat in the worn blue chair next to my bed. She looks beautiful, even surrounded by the hideous hospital lighting.

“Hey, Mitch.” She puts her hand over mine, squeezing gently. “You were shot in the chest.” Sasha’s eyes begin to glisten. She works hard to blink them into submission, probably not wanting to damage her reputation as a hard-ass.

“Shot?” I gasp. “By who? When?”

She shrugs. “Most likely by Gavin’s stalker. They didn’t catch him, Mitch. You’re lucky to be alive. The bullet glanced off a rib. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now. You had surgery four days ago and this is the first time you’ve been awake for any length of time.”

“Fuck, four days,” I whisper. “Where’s Gavin? He must be going out of his mind!”

Sasha’s kind face crumples and she looks away.

“Sasha,” I growl. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry, Mitch. He went home.”

“What the hell do you mean, home? He wouldn’t do that. He has to be here.” Agitated, I try to get up out of bed, setting off a half-dozen machines and nearly throwing up from the pain.

“Stop it, Mitch. I’ll explain if you stop!” Sasha sounds panicked and fuck, it hurts so much. I let her push me back down on the bed.

“Fine. Tell me,” I growl.

“He didn’t know what had happened, that you had been shot,” she begins. “I couldn’t call him because no one had his number. I only found out you were at the hospital because I called your phone and your mom answered. When Gavin called after that, he came straight here.”

“If he came to the hospital, why isn’t he still here? I don’t understand. The tour should be over. He’d want to be here.” None of this makes sense. I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff. On one side is the pain threatening to bring me to my knees. On the other is my heart, hovering over a canyon to be smashed on the sharp rocks below.

Sasha pulls out her phone, typing something on the screen. Before she shows it to me, she explains. “Now Mitch, you have to know that Gavin was here and he was destroyed at the sight of you.” I wince at the thought of him sitting vigil for me. “He did this for you, thinking it was safer. That it was for the best.”

“Did he tell you that or are you profiling him again,” I snap. “Give me the damn phone, Sasha.” I hold out my hand, indignant. I hope that Sasha thinks my hand is shaking from my condition, not from the sense of dread coursing through my veins.

“Just know he cares very much, Mitch.” She drops the device in my palm and stands up. “I’ll be back in a little while.” Sasha exits the room, closing the door behind her.

The popular celebrity magazine’s website has a huge color photo of Gavin and me across the top, a computer generated tear down between us, ripping the picture in two. On top of that in large bold red letters the word FAKE is emblazoned.

My heart clenches and my breath staggers, which brings a fresh round of excruciating pain to my wounded chest. I skim the article, trying to convince myself this is all a lie, that Gavin would never do this without speaking to me first. But there it is, displayed for the entire world to see.

When I realize that it’s an actual interview with Gavin and not just some tabloid hack’s speculation, the phone nearly slips from my trembling fingers.

Reporter- “So what you’re saying is that your boyfriend, Mitch Hale, was actually a security expert planted to draw out a stalker?”

Gavin Walker- “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

Reporter- “How long had you been receiving threats?”

GW- “For a long time, apparently. I wasn’t told about them until I discovered a note for myself a little over a year ago.”