The Monster (Boston Belles 3)

Still in a daze, I mumbled something about it being a huge hospital and not wanting to take advantage of my position, although I could tell Hunter looked at me funny. The walls were closing in on me. My family was becoming suspicious. Why had it taken me so long to get here if I worked in the premises?

Because I never actually worked here. I just couldn’t tell you what it was that I did.

The great irony of getting caught in the lie on the day I quit my job with Dr. Doyle didn’t escape me, but my mind was occupied with all things Sam. I stared longingly at the door Hunter gestured toward. Behind it doctors were fighting for Sam’s life.

“Tell me what happened again,” Troy insisted, badgering Cillian and Hunter, and they recited the entire scene. How they came to talk to Sam about my engagement to him (at this point they stared at me pointedly), how they discussed it at length. How they didn’t hear anything when the Russians put bullets in Johnny and Grayson’s heads because they used a silencer. How the Bratva burst through Sam’s office door, aiming their weapon at him.

“He’s a strong fucker.” Hunter sniffled. “On our way here he was half-conscious. He even asked us to call you, Aisling.”

All eyes lifted and rested on me, burning a hole through my face. Wrapping my arms around myself, I ignored them, waltzing over to a nearby window and staring out of it.

The world kept on spinning, and it felt like losing Ms. B all over again, only much worse. Cars honked, cluttered together in neat lines on the road. Clouds sailed. Women cooed at each other’s strollers on the streets.

Suddenly, I felt bloated and swollen with resentment.

At my parents for depriving me from having Sam until it was too late. At myself for listening to them, for waiting around, for denying myself of what I wanted. And at Sam, who ruthlessly devoured Boston—to the point where Boston had no choice but to devour him right back.

“Hunter,” I called out, still staring out the window, my eyes glued to the street. He approached me, stopping right next to me.

“Call Mother. I want her here. For once in this lifetime, I want her to comfort me.”

“Are you sure?” He frowned. “I don’t want this to have the opposite effect. What if she ends up nagging you about her psoriasis or tries to drag you to a shopping spree at the mall?”

“She won’t,” I said with conviction.

The women with the strollers on the street hugged each other goodbye and went their separate ways. I was filled with nausea when I realized it was possible I would never have babies with Sam. That this could be it for us. “I won’t let her.”

Hunter nodded curtly, stepping aside to call my mother.

Then, alone, with my face tilted in the opposite direction of everyone, I allowed the tears to fall. One by one, they slid down my cheeks, hot and salty.

I needed to let them go or else I’d drown.

An hour later, my mother walked into the waiting room. There was still no word from the doctors inside the operating room. Several times, Sparrow, Troy, and Cillian tried to nudge me to check in with the reception, pull some strings as a doctor at this hospital. I noticed Devon and Hunter were surprisingly quiet and solemn. They knew.

Mother flung her arms over my shoulders, burying her face in my neck.

“Oh, Aisling, how terrible. Poor Sam. I hope he’ll be okay. Although, I suppose, he got what was coming for him, doing what he does and all.”

My blood froze in my veins. I peeled her away from my body. No one else had heard what she said, but it didn’t matter. I was done being understanding of her, of her condition. Her loose tongue and looser morals had consequences, and it was time she knew it. I took a step back.

“I’m engaged to him,” I announced robotically.

Her mouth fell open. My brothers must have kept it a secret from her. No doubt thinking the engagement might be short-lived. Well, it wasn’t. There was only one way out of this engagement right now, and that was if Sam died.

“Aisling, you can’t …” She grabbed her gold necklace, rearranging it over her neck nervously. She was clad in a black velvet suit and a vintage Chanel bag, and I realized, a few moments too late, that it wasn’t only her words that bothered me but also the fact she took her time getting ready to come to the hospital when I called for her.

She lowered her voice, grabbing onto my wrist and tugging me to the corner of the room to make sure no one could hear us. “Honey, he is not for you.”