Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(88)

“He’s been admitted. They still have him in the ER. Have a seat, and I’ll have them check in with you. Are you family?”

“He’s mine,” I snap in a rush, and her brow furrows in response.

“He’s yours?”

“My boyfriend,” I add, squaring my shoulders as I proudly proclaim it.

“Okay, well, if he has any family to contact, you might want to do that. As soon as we have any answers, we’ll let you know. Please have a seat.”

Have a seat? Impossible.

Leaning forward, I’m about ready to drop to my knees and beg. For him, I would. I’d crawl all the way across the California coastline if I had to. I just can’t…have a seat.

“Please,” I whisper, hoping she has the slightest amount of pity in her tonight. “Can you at least tell me if he’s okay?”

I fold my hands together, leaning hard against the counter. “Please.” The word is heavy on my tongue. “I’m desperate. If you’ve ever loved anyone, I’m begging you to please, please help me.”

Her head tilts to the side as she lets out a sigh.

“They brought him in fifteen minutes ago. There’s no update in the system, but I’ll poke around to see what I can find out, but no promises.” She adds that last part with a sternness as if to indicate she’s not showing me too much mercy.

“Thank you,” I reply, grabbing her hand on the counter and giving it a tight squeeze.

“You’re welcome.” As she gets up from the desk, I stand there like a statue.

I know what I need to do now, but there’s not a bone in my body that wants to pick up my phone.

Shakily, I walk outside, standing just near the doors as I hold my phone in my hands. As I think about Beau, I try to muster all of the courage and strength he’s shown me in the last two months. The things he’s had to face about himself and the guts it took to make those changes within himself were far scarier than what I’m about to do.

So, with that, I pull up Emerson’s contact.

My hands are trembling as I hit the phone icon to call, and when it starts ringing, I want to throw up. All of the tears held back by shock have finally burst through the dam and start flowing across my face. By the time I hear his tired and scared sounding voice on the line, I’m sobbing.

“Maggie,” he says with concern, “I heard what happened. I’m on my way. Are you all right?”

I suck in a wet, shaky breath. He’s on his way to the club. He thinks I’m there.

“You need to come to the hospital,” I mutter as I wipe at my wet face.

“Hospital? Are you hurt?”

“No…I’m okay,” I whisper.

“They told me you were with someone. Is he okay? Are you at the hospital now?”

“Emerson.” I say his name to stop his questions. To prepare myself for the next, horrifying words that are about to come out of my mouth. There is no going back from this. There is no way for me to remove the terror I’m about to cause him. It’s easily the cruelest, most evil thing I’m about to do, to tell one of my closest friends that his son is hurt and his life is at risk. It’s deeply harrowing and god-awful.

“Maggie, what’s going on?”

I sob again, the pain in my chest unbearable.

“It’s Beau,” I mumble, my heart starting to splinter with those two words.

There’s silence on the line before he replies in a cold, lifeless response. “What about Beau?”

“I was with Beau. That’s who…”

“My Beau? Is he okay?” The frantic fear in his voice sends chills down my spine.

“They brought him in. I’m waiting for answers. I just…”

“Tell me he’s okay,” he demands, and I cry a little louder into the receiver. “Why was he there? Was he… What the fuck, Maggie?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, crying into my hand as I wish all of this away.

“I’m on my way,” he barks in a cold, emotionless declaration. A moment later, the line goes dead, and I stare down at my phone. I want to scream. I want to hurl my phone into the street for all of the things out of my control. My helpless, futile hands clutch hard to the unbreakable device as I squeeze it so hard, my bones start to ache.

I want to march into that hospital and find Beau, hold him, demand they fix him. But I can’t. I’m useless to him now. Two months ago, Beau meant almost nothing to me. I was fine without him. I felt useful. I had a purpose. Now…I’m sitting on the concrete of a hospital parking lot, feeling entirely worthless, because he’s in there and there’s not a damn thing I can do to help him. My entire identity has been completely altered by him, all of my worth reprogrammed for him.

And as long as he walks out of that hospital, I won’t regret a thing.

But if he doesn’t…

“Ma’am,” a soft voice says, pulling me from my pathetic mess of tears as I cry into this stupid satin gown I’m still wearing. When I look up into the eyes of the reception desk nurse, I take in a hopeful breath. I stand in a rush, waiting for her to speak.

For some reason, I’m bracing myself for her to utter the words that will end me. Just a simple, “I’m sorry,” out of her mouth, and I will shatter into a million pieces.