Tempting Rowan(106)

“And they just now called you?” I gasped.

Trent, my Trent, he’d been alone this long, fighting for his life? That wasn’t right!

Trace nodded. “He didn’t have his phone on him, only his wallet, so it took them a while to track us down. Our numbers aren’t exactly listed publicly.”

“Is he going to make it through the surgery?” I forced the words out of my mouth, terrified of the answer he might give me.

“Honestly?” Trace asked, his eyes venturing to mine before returning to the road ahead. “They said it was a fifty/fifty chance. The bullet barely missed a vital artery in his heart, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” Trace’s breath turned shaky. “We’ll know more once we get there.”

In the back of the car, the kids were sniffling as they cried, but I couldn’t make myself shower them in words of comfort.

I was numb once more, drowning in an ocean of pain and solitude. I was going to lose him—I already had, but this was worse, because this was forever.

Everything was a blur as we arrived at the emergency entrance of the hospital. I forced myself to stay calm and follow Trace.

Inside, he asked the information desk about his brother and they directed us to the correct floor—the intensive care unit. This was so fucking bad.

My hands shook with panic. I couldn’t imagine a world in which Trenton Wentworth didn’t exist. Thoughts of him consumed me—his smile, his laugh, the first time he over spoke with me, every memory flitted through my mind in rapid succession.

We rushed through the wide white halls, our shoes squeaking on the tile floors.

Ivy and Tristan each held onto my hands, as I all but dragged them along.

We burst through the set of double doors and into the main hallway of intensive care.

“Trace,” his mom breathed in relief when she saw us. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She looked horrible, and that scared me. Had she gotten bad news? Was he gone? Were we too late?

I released the kids’ hands and dashed into the bathroom I spotted to my right.

The door slammed closed behind me as I fell to my knees and emptied the contents of my stomach. Tears stung my eyes, one trailing down my cheek and under my chin.

I felt like my whole world was crumbling around me.

I’d always prided myself with being okay. I had always been able to cope with bad things, but this was something I wasn’t prepared to handle.

I flushed the toilet and cleaned myself up, wiping my face free of tears. I kept making a strange stuttering gasping sound as I tried to hold back more tears. I couldn’t fucking breathe. I clutched the fabric of my shirt in my hand as I forced myself to calm down.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Calm down, Rowan, I warned myself. You need to be strong.

But the last thing I could be in this moment was strong. I’d thought I’d escaped the hold of my mother and Jim, but it had all been a façade. I could never escape them. Jim had managed to take away something that mattered dearly to me. Trent might not have liked me at all anymore, but I took comfort in knowing he was out there somewhere thriving. If he didn’t make it through this…I was pretty damn sure he’d take a piece of my soul with him.

I loved him. God, I loved him so much that it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest and stomped on.

I reached for more paper towels, drying my still damp face. I couldn’t stop the tears. I knew I needed to get myself under control before I left the sanctuary of the restroom.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

I wasn’t okay.

This wasn’t okay.

Nothing about the fact that Trent was here, fighting for his life, was okay.





One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

I took deep breaths, inhaling in through my mouth and out through my nose. I needed to get my shit together and be strong. Breaking down like this wasn’t going to help Trent.

I turned the water on, splashing the cool liquid onto my face.

My eyes were swollen and red from crying. I didn’t care though. I no longer saw tears as a sign of weakness, but of strength.

I took a few more calming breaths to make sure I was ready to face this.

I opened the bathroom door and looked down the hall. Trace was waiting for me and he waved me forward. With my head bowed, like a child in trouble, I hesitantly stopped in front of him.

“The kids are with my mom,” he pointed over his shoulder to the waiting room before continuing, “he’s out of surgery now.” Trace hesitated, his eyes filled with pain. I had only ever seen the guy happy and smiling, so seeing him like this was shocking. “He’s not in the clear yet though. There’s still plenty that could go wrong.”