Page 95 of The Bad Brother
“You’re a Barrett,” he says in a tone that tells me the subject is closed and he won’t be moved. He’s not going anywhere. “See you tomorrow.”
Before I can argue my case any further, Cade hangs up.
Fuck.
Swiping a rough hand over my face, I toss my phone on the kitchen counter and don’t look at it again until it buzzes fifteen minutes later, signaling a text.
Reese: Billy wanted me to let you know that Sloane is on her way home.
Staring at the text, I let out a long, slow breath, reminding myself that Sloane is safe. From what Colt said, the employee lot at the hospital is completely locked down. Ethan can’t get to her. As long as she stays in her car and comes straight home, she should be okay.
Me: Okay. Thanks.
Hitting send, I hesitate for a second before I send another one.
Me: How’s your dad?
I watch bubbles dance across my screen for a while before a response pops up.
Reese: He’s doing okay. They’re keeping him pretty sedated for the next few days to keep him comfortable and compliant. lol
Laughing out loud, I think about Tank. The only thing he hated more than bad BBQ was hospitals. Before I can answer her, another texts pops up.
Reese: The woman who takes insurance information came by a bit ago and told me my dad’s surgery and everything that came after it has been paid for in full.
Red doesn’t have health insurance. He’s self-employed and not nearly old enough for Medicare. If he makes it out of this thing alive, there’s going to be rehab. Physical therapy. Home care. There’s no way he can afford that. Billy works with his dad and Reese is a cop in a town with one stop light. Unless one of them trains up to rob a bank, those hospital bills would chase Red into an early grave.
Me: It’s a relief to know things have been taken care of.
Those dancing bubbles again.
Reese: Thank you.
I contemplate playing stupid but I’m on thin ice with Reese. I don’t think insulting her intelligence is the way to go, so I ignore her last text altogether.
Backing out of my texts, I open my camera app and watch the front lot until I see headlights swing in from the street. Recognizing Sloane’s sporty, red compact, I have to mentally nail my feet to the floor to keep myself from bolting downstairs. As soon as the car stops, I adjust the angle of the camera so I can watch the street, certain that Ethan is going to show up like he did this morning. I don’t know why he was here—all I know is that I’m glad Cade was here to walk her to her car.
A few minutes go by and even though Sloane’s car isparked, she hasn’t gotten out. Zooming in, I can see her through the windshield. She’s sitting in the driver’s seat, head lowered, the faint glow of her cell phone illuminating her face. She’s reading something.
Against my better judgment, I minimize the window on the app and open up my texts. While the text I sent her hours ago now shows as read, she didn’t respond. Opening the camera app again, I see that Sloane is out of her car and heading across the parking lot toward the bar.
AVERDICT WAS REACHED TODAY IN THEwrongful death case of fifteen-year-old Lyla Strong. Sources attending the trial report that Judge Michelle Arias handed down a guilty verdict for both charges of involuntary manslaughter and malicious intent, to Nathaniel Jensen Pryce, age 16, sentencing him to be remanded to the Texas State Juvenile Correction Center for no less than two years, citing in her ruling that “the vicious and relentless nature in which the defendant not only harassed but pursued the victim is beyond any sort of comprehension. Before sentencing, Judge Arias read the following statement— “You drove this poor girl to her death, young man. You not only brutally attacked and abused her verbally, when she expressed suicidal thoughts, you encouraged her into those actions. The despair and devastation your thoughtlessly callous acts have brought about will have a lasting effect, not only on Lyla Strong’s family,but the community she was so well-loved by. I’m sentencing you the maximum allowedby law but quite frankly, it's not enough.” Sources report that while the overwhelming amount of circumstantial evidence was compelling, it was the testimony of the defendant’s own brother, Ethan Pryce, age 13, that convinced the judge of Pryce’s guilt. The attorney representing the defendant states that no appeals will be filed at this time, claiming, “The family just wants to move on and put this unfortunate incident behind them.”
Letting out a long, slow breath, I look up from my phone. I told myself that I wasn’t going to fall for it. That I wasn’t going to let Ethan get in my head. I’m leaving. What Jensen did to get himself sent to prison became irrelevant the second my decision was made.
I barely shifted into park before I was digging my phone out of my bag and googling Lyla Strong.
Ethan wins again.
Pulling my keys from the ignition, I drop them, along with my phone into the belly of my purse before climbing out of my car to make the short trek across the parking lot.
I wasn’t bluffing when I told my mother that I receive job offers from other hospitals on a regular basis. I’ve been turning them down almost daily since I accepted my position at Barrett County General, nearly two years ago. As soon as I walked away, leaving Jensen in the waiting room, I went to the locker room, retrieved my phone, and checked my email. I found three job offers floating around in my unopened emails—one from Portland, Oregon, one from Los Angeles county, and one from Miami, Florida. The one from Los Angeles offered a ten thousand dollar signing bonus and a corporate apartment.
I took it.
I start next week.
I’ll leave in the morning—the drive will take about four or five days. The money I have in my checking and savings will be enough to pay for gas, and I can sleep in my car if I have to. In my resignation, I explained to Ragnar that with everything that happened with Ethan and my mother’s ridiculous sense of entitlement, I think it’s best that I just leave and start over, somewhere new. She’ll be pissed that I’m leaving her trauma center down an experienced surgeon and no time to find a replacement but honestly, I think she’ll be glad to get rid of me and my drama.
