“GET THE FUCK OUT, SHELDON!” I gripped the counter until my nails dug into the granite because, while I may have lost my temper, I still held a feeble leash on my control.
Kennedy was now crying and watching me as if I were going to hurt her next, and I never wanted that. I watched Sheldon with pure hatred flowing through my veins as she reluctantly left the kitchen.
“Mama.” Kennedy held out her hands for her. Sheldon turned back for her, but my look stopped her. I let go of all the warmth from mere moments ago. She deserved the hard, cold exterior, not the person on the inside clawing to get out and save her from me.
When she was finally gone, I turned to Kennedy, who now watched me with sad eyes. My own reflected back and I could feel the slump in my shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to see that, kid.”
I’d lost my appetite so I contented myself with watching her eat her pancakes once she calmed down. She wasn’t her usual talkative self, which made the atmosphere awkward, so when my phone rang, I welcomed the distraction.
“Keenan, you need to get here now.” Keiran’s gruff voice filtered through the phone before I could speak, but he sounded off. He sounded scared.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s your father.”
“My father?” John… or Mitch?
“John,” he clarified as if he could read my mind.
“What does he want?”
“He was shot, man, and it’s not looking good. Get here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SHELDON
KEENAN HAD ALL but thrown us into the car without a word of where we were going and why. More than once, I had to ask him to slow the car and remind him that Kennedy was in the backseat, but he never responded. He would just grip the steering wheel tighter and let off the gas until whatever plagued his mind returned and then he would gun it again.
We made the eight-hour trip in just less than seven and went straight to the hospital. I still had no clue what was going on, but I knew someone close must have been in trouble judging by the look of terror and pain etched all over his features.
I grabbed Kennedy and chased after Keenan, who had parked in the emergency lane and ran into the building. He was at the reception desk, rattling the poor nurse who scrambled to find what I assumed was a room number.
“Keenan, you have to calm down before they kick us out.” He pinned me with a look that would have killed me on the spot if such a thing were possible.
“Yes, John Masters is in room 345. You take a right—” Keenan had already taken off before the lady could finish her directions. I followed at a much slower pace feeling far too numb to move any faster.
Something had happened to John, and I could only guess that it was serious given the severity of Keenan’s mood.
I spotted Lake as soon as I entered the hallway where John’s room was and rushed toward her. She appeared lost in her thoughts. Her gaze was fixed on the wall. I set a sleeping Kennedy on a nearby couch before speaking. “Lake, what’s going on? What happened to John?”
She snapped to at the sound of my voice, and when she looked from me to Kennedy, she broke down and rushed out the events leading up to this moment. “He was shot at a stoplight on the way home from town. The few witnesses say it all happened too quickly.”
“So what are the doctors saying? Is he going to be okay?”
“No, Sheldon. He’s not. He’s bleeding slowly around the heart and the doctors aren’t able to stop the bleeding.”
“Then wh—” No matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t complete it. I couldn’t bring my fear to life. Keenan was going to lose his father?
“He’s going to die and he doesn’t have long. They said it would be in the next couple of hours or so.”
This can’t be happening.
Why is this happening?
“Who did this?”
“I don’t know. Keiran has been in there for hours and hasn’t come out. I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know what to do.”
“Have you gone in?”
She shook her head and said, “He told me to wait out here.”
“I can’t do that.” There was no way I could stand here and do nothing. I pushed through the door of the hospital room and found Keenan, Keiran, Dash, and Q surrounding the bed with grave expressions. None of them noticed me enter so I stood frozen against the door.
“Tell me who did this,” Keenan demanded.
“I can’t do that, son. I would rather leave this world knowing you two were finally at peace. I don’t deserve to have my death avenged. It’s time I pay my dues.” John’s voice, once strong and deep, was now weak and sickly sounding. The hard, strong man suddenly looked frail.
“What are you talking about?” Keiran barked. “If you deserved to die, I would have done the deed a long time ago.” I should have been appalled by his behavior, but after so many years of friendship, I knew being hard was his way of showing his pain.
“Boys—”
“No, John—dad—fuck!” Keenan visibly struggled with words and the emotions he desperately tried to keep in check. He was fighting a losing battle.