The pressure in my chest doesn’t lessen as he disappears through the double doors. Hopefully he returns to whatever corner of hell he crawled out of before I have a chance to get my hands on him again.
Iris huffs. “Well, that didn’t go exactly as expected.”
I turn around, finding her hand clutched to her chest. Her twisted expression has my blood rushing to my ears.
“Please tell me that wasn’t the big plan you’ve been working on.”
She scoffs. “No. I got a bit derailed, but rest assured, my other idea is fool-proof.”
“I’ll be the judge of that given your current track record.”
She laughs before wincing at the hand pressed against her chest. “Ouch.”
“Let me have a better look.” My pulse quickens as I assess her injury. I’m careful not to touch the skin near her knuckles, keeping mind of the swelling.
It doesn’t look like an open fracture so at least that is good news. “You’re insane. There’s no other explanation for why you would punch someone in the face without knowing how.”
“I thought it would be like the movies.” She flinches as she checks out the damage.
“We need to get you to the hospital to have it checked out.” I choke on the words, unable to process the reason I decide to make that call. I fucking despise hospitals.
“No! I’m fine. See!” She wiggles her fingers and recoils.
I’m hit with the urge to go find my father but hold back.
“Why would you punch him?”
Her jaw locks together, and she looks down at her purple heels.
I lift her chin with my finger. “Tell me.”
She sighs, and it takes an exorbitant amount of effort not to shake the answers out of her.
“Promise not to do anything illegal if I tell you?”
“No.”
Her head drops. “You’re not going to be happy.”
“I’m never happy.” Except for rare occasions. All of which Iris is a part of.
She looks back up at me. Her eyes have a sheen to them that has nothing to do with her injured hand. “He offered me money to…”
“To what?” Every muscle in my body tenses.
“To prevent me from having a baby. Ever.” She looks away as if she can hide the way her face is a wreck of emotions.
I’m already halfway out the door, body hot to the touch and my head empty of any thoughts besides finding my father and pummeling him into the ground.
I should have known he would try to pull off a stunt like this. Part of me had stupidly hoped he would have some sense of decency left, but it seems he doesn’t have a moral bone left in his body. I underestimated just how far he would go to retain his position as CEO. Because without it, he would have nothing to live for. His kids hate him and his wife is dead. Losing his executive position would be the last blow in his miserable life.
Iris grips onto my arm and tugs me back. “Wait!”
“I can’t talk to you right now.” I can’t talk to anyone, let alone her.
You’re the one who brought her into this mess. What did you expect?
Blood heats beneath my skin. I try to shake her off, but her hold only grows more desperate.
“I need you to take me to the hospital.”
I pause, seeing through the cloud of red haze blocking my decision-making. “What?”
Her misty eyes lock onto mine. “I’m in a lot of pain.”
Fuck. I release a ragged breath and shut my eyes. “Harrison will take you.”
“Please don’t make me go alone.” Her plea is my undoing.
My plan to send my father into a coma slips away as I shut my eyes and nod my head. “Fine. Let’s get you to a doctor.”
23
DECLAN
S ince Iris is unable to hold a phone herself, I’m tasked with typing everything she dictates. I knew Iris handled a lot, but I didn’t fully realize the depth of her job until she had me working through each task with her.
No wonder she isn’t happy. The number of emails she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane. Or maybe I’m just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different emails with her uninjured hand.
I can tell her nerves grow stronger as we near the hospital. Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, altering my entire schedule for the day.
The work doesn’t stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out. Iris stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.
“Here.” I pass it to her.
Her eyes shift toward the exit. “Will you help me please? I can’t write like this.” Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.
“Okay. Tell me your answers and I’ll write them down.”
Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question, so I busy myself with my phone.
“Do you mind reading the questions aloud for me? I’m too stressed to concentrate right now.” Her overcompensating smile irritates me.
“Are you sure? Some of the questions are probably personal.”
Don’t be a dick. Just do what she says.
“I don’t care.” The rigid way she sits in her chair says the complete opposite.
She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question. The paperwork doesn’t take us as long as I anticipated, so Iris and I sit together in silence.
She stares at the exit longingly. The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.
“If it’s any consolation, I hate hospitals too.”
Her head swings toward the direction of my voice. “You do?”
I nod. “Haven’t been to one since I was younger.”
“Why?”
My chest heaves as I consider the potential consequence of admitting my reason. I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner. “We spent a lot of time in hospitals while my mom was sick. I grew to resent everything about them, even long after she passed.”
Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I’m grateful she understands me enough not to ask any follow-up questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal to the years I’ve spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.
“I hate them too.” Her voice cracks.
“Why?”
She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. “Let’s just say my mom ended up in the ER a couple times for being clumsy.”
I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface.
“And did you have issues with being clumsy?” If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.
She shakes her head rather aggressively. “No. No.”
My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. “If you were, you can tell me.” While I can’t promise I won’t do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt. A lot.
The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don’t shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.
“It never got to that point. Nana made sure of it.”