My parents stand in the doorway. They watch as Aaron helps me into the truck, and I wave to them through the window as we pull out of the driveway.
When we hit the highway, I ask, “How bad is it?”
Aaron cuts me a short glance, then squeezes my hand. He’s been holding it ever since we pulled out, steering assuredly with the other. “Bad. Tacker says from the report he heard, three guys were attacking one woman. When Baden tried to intervene to help her, he was beaten with a crowbar and stabbed.”
“Jesus,” I murmur, following my curse with a silent but solemn prayer for Baden.
“Dominik and Willow are flying in from Los Angeles on one of Dominik’s private planes. He’ll get the best doctors from wherever he can to attend to Baden.”
I’ve never liked the privilege that comes with being extremely wealthy, or the elite opportunities that are afforded to them, but, in this moment, I am so very grateful Dominik has those resources. While I don’t know Baden all that well, I had some great interaction with him in St. John. He reminds me a lot of Aaron in that laid-back, happy-go-lucky kind of way. A humble, down-to-earth guy.
A man who tries to stop a mugging, who instead ends up stabbed and beaten. A tremor runs up my spine, because that could have easily been Aaron. He would have stepped in if he’d been the one to see that.
The nausea that swells within me at the thought—of something terrible happening to Aaron and me losing him—is nothing more than an affirmation I’m in deep with this guy.CHAPTER 22ClarkeI pace the small length of my living room, periodically checking my phone. It’s been almost twenty-four hours since Aaron and I left my parents’ house when we got word about Baden.
I had gone to the hospital with Aaron, and it had been a somber event. Baden had been savagely attacked by three men when he’d tried to stop them from attacking a woman in a downtown parking garage. He had to have emergency surgery as he had multiple stab wounds—seven in all—and he had some bleeding on his brain from where they beat him with a crowbar.
Those wounds were all miraculously stabilized, but were not the worst of the news. The assailant with the crowbar hit him in the back so hard that Baden suffered a spinal cord concussion. He’s currently paralyzed from the waist down.
It was horrible news and the weight of grief in the waiting room—packed with players, coaches, executive staff, and loved ones—was so palpable I felt like I was suffocating at times. Dominik arrived within two hours by private jet, conferenced with the team doctors and Baden’s parents, then, with the power of his pull and money, he’d flown in one of the best surgeons in the world who would attempt to stabilize the spinal injury.
It’s been hours since I last heard from Aaron, though. I’d stayed at the hospital until just past midnight last night when he’d insisted on taking me home since I had to get up early to open the store. Of course, I refused to let him take me home and had insisted on an Uber. There’d been a back-and-forth argument, then a compromise when Nora offered me a ride as she had to leave due to early appointments the next morning, too.
Baden’s surgery lasted throughout the night. He finally came out of it around nine this morning. Aaron kept me apprised via texts throughout the day, but, by noon, everyone was urged to leave and get some rest. Dominik put Baden’s parents, who’d flown in from Montreal, up in a hotel and Aaron had told me he was going home for a shower and a nap.
My last communication from him was around three this afternoon and since then… nothing. I have to assume he’s still resting, and it’s hard to resist the urge to call and wake him up. What I hate the most about this, though, is I am feeling this pressing need to be by his side, if for nothing more than to just be a presence should he need me. Throughout my time at the hospital, I could see how horrific this was for Aaron. Baden isn’t just a teammate. He’s a brother to them all, so his injury directly struck each of them. I’d never seen Aaron so weighed down with emotion.
Never seen him so quiet and withdrawn, either. I’m not used to it. It’s freaking me out, although I simply cannot take it personally. This is a moment in our relationship when we will learn something about each other… how we deal with tragedy.
The knock on my front door startles me so badly I let out a tiny yip of fright. But I immediately know it’s Aaron.