Crazy for Your Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 5)
“Yeah, Shasta,” Isaiah says, emphasizing her first name in a way that makes me think she hates when he uses it. “Nobody wants you here.”
“You know who came to my door yesterday?” She points a dirty finger at him, her nail bitten to the quick. “The police. That’s who. You and your stupid decisions made them come ’round asking me questions.”
“My stupid decisions?” He grunts. “I guess I learned from the best.”
“You’d better show your mom some respect,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Shasta, this isn’t the place,” Carter says.
She spins on him, a bundle of nervous energy—twitching shoulder, fingers drumming her thigh, foot tapping the floor to an irregular beat. “This isn’t your concern. You both get out of here.”
Carter takes one step forward and folds his arms. It’s not much, but it’s enough to put himself between the woman and her son, and his posture speaks volumes. If she wants to talk to Isaiah, she’s going to have to go through him.
“The police came to my door,” she repeats, jabbing a finger in the air toward Isaiah.
“I’m sure that must have been very stressful for you,” I say. I try to hide the sarcasm in my voice, but she spins and glares at me. “You must have been very worried about your son.” So worried that it took her another twenty-four hours to make it to the hospital.
“I want to talk to your boss. I won’t have some bitch talking shit to me.”
I smile sweetly. “I’d be happy to get the charge nurse for you.” I press the call button beside Isaiah’s bed and give the charge nurse the code for security. Better to have them on the way if this woman is going to keep up her attitude. “Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll find her together?”
“I’m not done talking to my son yet.”
“Yes, you are,” Carter says.
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Shasta doesn’t have custody of her son,” he tells me softly. “She has no legal rights here.”
“And you think you have rights? Did you carry him for nine months? Did you destroy your body to give life to this ungrateful little shit?”
“Mom, leave,” Isaiah growls.
Shaun, one of our security officers, steps into the room in record time. As discreetly as possible, I nod toward Shasta.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, stepping forward.
The woman stiffens at the sight of a man in uniform, but she lifts her chin. “Yeah. I want to file a complaint against this nurse. She’s disrespecting me.”
“Let’s go to my office so you can give me the details.” Shaun shoots me a look, solidarity in that stern expression. I haven’t had to deal with security often, thankfully, but of all the guys on the team, Shaun’s the best at defusing volatile situations.
“Don’t you ever come around asking me favors again,” Shasta shouts to Isaiah as she follows Shaun out of the room. “Don’t you dare bring trouble to my door.”
I count to twenty after Shaun leaves and then excuse myself, so Isaiah and Carter can speak in private.
Carter
“I hate my mom,” Isaiah says. “I hate her so much.”
My gut twists. Isaiah has never bothered to hide how he feels about his mother, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say it so directly. Maybe I should scold him for saying something so awful, but I won’t. Not when he’s already lost so much this year. Not when I have to live with the role I played in that loss. “I don’t blame you.”
He sighs and shifts in bed, grimacing. “Is that hot nurse really your girl?”
Get used to the lie now. “Haven’t you read the papers? Our picture was on the front page of the Jackson Harbor Gazette yesterday.”
He grunts. “No one under the age of sixty reads the newspaper, C. Sorry.”
I laugh. “I guess you’re right.”
“Did she grow up here like you? The nurse?”
“She moved here a few years ago. Her family’s from Virginia, and she went to college with Ethan’s wife, Nic, in Alabama.” I take the cup from his bedside table, refilling the ice as an excuse to stand closer. “You said Jess broke up with you?”
“I’m not talking about it.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
He scowls at me then sighs. “She said she cares about me, but it felt like it was getting serious too fast. Then she was all over Hayden Traelle at the party on Saturday, so obviously she doesn’t care that much.”
Suddenly, Isaiah’s very uncharacteristic decision to drink and drive makes more sense. Nothing excuses it, but I understand a little better now that I know. “That blows. I’m sorry.”
He lifts his chin. “Why? It’s not your fault.”
“I’m still sorry. Broken hearts suck.”
“Preach.” He snags his phone off the bed next to him and starts scrolling.
“I work tonight and tomorrow. You need anything before I go in?” I work twenty-four-hour shifts every three days; he knows how it works.