“Has he been charged?”
“I’m not sure. His parents are on their way, and I know he has a lawyer who showed up at the precinct. The mayor promised to let me know the minute he’s been charged and booked.”
“There’s no way he can get off is there?”
“It would take an act of God, and I don’t think God’s in his corner right now.”
“Drink that,” Shaw interrupts. “It’ll be nasty if you let it get cold. But cold or not, I’ll pour it down your throat.”
I pull the cup to my lips and take a drink to get him off my back. My face screws up when the overly sugary drink hits my tongue.
“Don’t give me that face. You need the sugar.”
Everyone settles down after that while we wait for the doctors to come down and talk to us. The press has set up outside and Barry went to speak with them several times. The press has been banned from the hospital at least.
Collin is standing over by the window. I’m not sure when he got up, but this has to be hard on him. He hates hospitals. His brother was shot in a drive by when they lived down in Georgia. The kid died. I forgot all that as I mentally shut down.
Fuck.
Sighing, I get up and go stand beside him. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
He shrugs. “You’re scared. I get it. I was the same way the night my brother died.”
I hug him tight. Not caring who sees. He’s hurting and is seconds away from having a panic attack. I see it in his expression. This will help stave it off. And honestly, I need the comfort myself.
“Red’s too stubborn to die,” he mutters, tears in his voice. “I’ll go in there and call her Deliverance just so she’ll argue with me.”
I hope he’s right, but I won’t give him false hope. I’m terrified to believe any of the hope floating in the room. I’m worrying Mom. She keeps looking at me and I see the concern. Her boyfriend’s here as well. He’s taking care of her and that’s one less thing on my plate.
“How long has it been?” Collin asks after a while.
“Five hours, ten minutes and forty-two seconds since we got here.”
“Fuck, that’s a long time.” He sighs heavily and steps back, his panic subsiding.
I nod, this knot of fear holding me hostage.
“Daisy Canton?”
My head whips around at the sound of her name. Two men wearing blue scrubs and one of those surgeon hats on their heads is standing there, looking surprised to see so many people in here. I am too, honestly. Daisy is well loved among our friends.
“Here,” I all but shout and run over to them. “Is she alive?”
“Who are you?”
“Jonathan Hutchinson.”
“Are you family?”
“I’m her fiancé.”
“And I’m her brother,” Collin pipes in.
The doctor who’s speaking looks skeptical. Collin’s Mexican. Daisy is not.
“He’s adopted,” I say.
The doctor frowns but doesn’t say anything else. What can he say to that?
