Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(111)

One of the reasons why I wanted to be a nurse was that I hated hospitals. They were a cesspool of unwelcome memories of grief, pain, and desperation, and in a way, becoming a nurse was a way to overcome that hate and that fear. But for even more obvious reasons, I wasn’t thinking of my future career and I hated them more so today than I had in a long time, because I was on the verge of having another horrific memory attached to a hospital.

We were in the waiting room outside the intensive care unit and we’d been there for at least a half an hour. We’d checked in, were told that Clyde’s doctor would be to see us soon, but no one had come.

That couldn’t be good.

The room was empty with the exception of Jax and me, and for that I was grateful, because I was barely holding it together. When Teresa had called because they were five minutes from Jax’s house, I’d totally forgotten about them. Once I explained what happened, she immediately said they were coming to Montgomery Hospital, but I’d told them not to and that I’d keep them up to date. First off, I wanted them to enjoy their day in Philly, and second, I would lose it if they were here.

I was going to lose it anyway.

Now I paced the length of the sterile white room with taupe chairs and couches. All I knew was that it was a heart attack and it was bad. Clyde was in surgery. That’s it.

“Honey, I think you should sit down,” Jax suggested.

“I can’t.” I passed by the row of chairs. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “I don’t know. These kinds of things can take a long time.”

Nodding absently, I crossed my arms over my chest and kept walking. “I knew something was wrong with him, especially last night. He’s been rubbing his chest a lot, looking red in the face or really pale. And he was sweating—”

“Calla, you didn’t know. None of us did. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

He had a point, but I’d seen the way Clyde looked last night when he’d showed up and ran off the kidnapper. I shook my head as anger stole up on me like a shadow in the darkest night. “Damn her,” I seethed.

Jax straightened.

I stared at him for a moment and then looked away. “I know a lot of stress has to be on him from the bar and her being gone. Hell, a lot of stress is on you! You’ve been running the bar for her and for what? Tips and minimum wage?”

A strange look pinched his features as he rubbed a hand along his stubbled jaw.

“I almost got kidnapped last night because of her and Clyde was out there. He doesn’t need this kind of stress. Look at what it’s done to him?” I stopped, unfolding my arms and squeezing my hands into fists. The anger turned into venom in my blood as I said, “I hate her.”

Jax blinked. “Babe . . .”

My breath caught. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. Look at what she’s done to everyone. And for what? I know her life has been hard, because I lived it! I was right there with her, Jax! I lived it, too, but I—”

“We probably wouldn’t be where we are today. You know that, right?” he said quietly. “She gave us that.”

She gave us that.

I clamped my mouth shut, shoulders tight. I stared into his eyes and then I looked away. The burn in my chest ached. And then as quickly as the poisonous bite had entered my veins, it eased away and I whispered, “Yeah, she gave us that.”

“You don’t hate her.”

My eyes closed against the rush of frustrated tears. “I know.”

The truth was that sometimes I wanted to hate her, because then I wouldn’t care about what was happening to her and what she’d done to her life. I wouldn’t worry about what the drugs were doing to her. I wouldn’t care if she had a roof over her head or clean clothes on her back. I wouldn’t care, and damnit, caring hurt.

As raw emotion that had been there long before today, this week, or even this year started to swell inside me, I started pacing again to burn it off. I focused on something else. “Why did they call you?”

“I’m his emergency contact, I guess.”

Meaning I wasn’t. I wasn’t the contact for a man who’d virtually helped raise me. It was stupid to feel guilty about not being Clyde’s emergency contact, but I knew that if I’d been around more, I would’ve been in the position to be contacted. It terrified me knowing that this could’ve happened and no one would’ve notified me.

And it hit me with the force of a speeding semitruck.

I’d been doing this wrong. My life. Completely wrong, because it had been my choices that led to me leaving this town and it had been my choices that had practically ended a relationship with a man who’d been the only good role model in my whole freaking life. I still could’ve kept in touch. I still could’ve come around. Fuck. Maybe if I had, Mom would’ve found it harder to wipe me out. Who knew? But I had run at the first chance I got, and I knew Clyde didn’t blame me for it, but still. I’d told myself that I hated the bar, but my happiest memories had been there. I lied to myself. A lot.

If I wore a map of courage, bravery, and strength on my back, I sure as hell hadn’t behaved that way in a long time. Not since Mom took my money and I met Jax.

My knees went weak, and I had no idea how I didn’t plant my ass on the floor. “Oh my God.”