I have to focus on something else, anything else, because if I concentrate on everything that went down, I’ll lose it. Tim’s old hunting rifle jammed and I couldn’t even get off a shot. If Ben hadn’t appeared when he did, God knows what would’ve happened next. The last thing Lauren saw before she died was me pointing a gun at her, believing I was the one who shot her. And there’s poetic justice in that. Lauren always thought she’d win me over. Instead, she left this world thinking I was the one who took her out of it.
And if Ivy lives, I think I’ll be okay with that.
The chief of police already indicated to me that, pending a full investigation, they don’t plan on charging Ben with any crime. Off the record, they feel he acted in self-defense. But I think that’s the least of his worries right now. I’ve never seen someone so shaken. I’ve come to realize that, since he started working for me last summer, Ben’s become someone I can depend on—to take an extra shift, to watch over Ivy, to do whatever needed to be done. I don’t know if he’s going to bounce back from this, knowing that he took a life and he still couldn’t save his brother. Now he’s going to have to start his college career with everyone knowing about the events that transpired. That’s a lot to deal with for anyone, especially someone so young. He was so worried about people finding out he was gay, but this seems worse. It’s going to be a lot harder to handle. I’ll just have to keep an eye on him. It’s what Tim would’ve wanted me to do.
I can only hope that Conrad Price abides by the forensic evidence and doesn’t make things any tougher on Ben. It’s been rumored that Conrad was planning on leaving his business empire to Lauren after disowning Ryan, so I don’t know how far he plans on taking this. Now that Lauren’s gone, I just pray that he leaves Ben alone and lets the rest of us walk away in peace.
We’ve been through enough, and it’s still not over.
Dr. P.’s been in there with Ivy for nearly three hours, and I don’t know how much more I can take. I sag against the hard plastic chair as my dad taps my knee consolingly. I’m glad he’s here, along with my mom, because I don’t think I’d be able to get through this without them.
The good news is that Ivy wasn’t shot. I was terrified at first that one of the bullets went astray and hit her. But it was the trauma of everything going on around her that did her in. The placenta must have ruptured. The amount of bleeding this time was immense. There was no stopping it. She bled out all the way here, even losing consciousness before they were able to wheel her in.
This could be it. Lauren could very well have pulled it off. It would be the final act of her sick and twisted life if she succeeded in taking Ivy and the baby away from me. I can’t believe that fate would be that cruel. I just can’t.
“Honey child?” Wanda, Dr. P.’s nurse, pokes her head around the corner, still wearing her hairnet and scrubs. “Why don’t you come with me?”
I exchange an anxious look with my parents before getting unsteadily to my feet. This is it. They’re going to take me in a room and tell me she’s dead. The last time this happened, it was about Cassidy, only I wasn’t allowed back here for this part. Her parents told me afterward that she was gone. I didn’t get to hear it firsthand from the hospital staff. Her parents didn’t grant me the courtesy, since technically I wasn’t her husband yet.
But I’m surprised when Wanda stops and guides me into an adjacent hallway, away from all the noise and prying eyes.
“Now I need you to be strong for me, sugar,” Wanda pleads, gazing into my eyes. “Ivy’s not out of danger, not by a long shot. However, Dr. P. wants to try something, but he’s going to need permission from her next of kin in order to do it.”
And once again, that sinking sensation grips my stomach. It’s the same thing happening all over again. We’re not married. I’m not her next of kin. I can’t make the decision, even though her life is hanging in the balance.
“She mentioned to me once in passing about the strained relationship she has with her mama,” Wanda continues delicately. “But we’re going to need her to sign off on this, and we’re going to need you to help us get her consent.”
“What does Dr. P. want to do exactly?” I ask, going through all of the possible scenarios in my head.
“Ivy’s not at twenty-two weeks. She’s close, but she’s not there yet, and the chances of the baby surviving outside the womb aren’t very good if we can’t get her there,” Wanda explains as I try to absorb everything she’s saying. “But Dr. P. wants to do something that’s never been done before. He wants to go in and repair the placenta. Buy her the time she needs. It’s risky. It’s experimental. But he wants to try.”