Life's Too Short (The Friend Zone #3)(55)

I had to fight the urge to do a lot of things.

I’d like to say that I’d rather be home in my bed, but if Vanessa wasn’t going to be there with me, I was perfectly happy to sit in this chair and hold her here instead.

She’d come to me and not her dad.

She’d retreated into my arms like I was the only safe haven in the world—and I wanted to be that. I realized today that I always wanted to be there to receive her. I wanted every opportunity to be useful to her. I craved it. Waited for it. Watched her to see when she might need me to catch her. See her beautiful eyes search a room and zero in on me, a sign to pluck her from her whirling tornado and keep her still.

I was glad to see Gerald was getting his shit together. I was glad for Vanessa’s sake. But the thing I realized tonight was that even if he didn’t, there was no amount of crazy that she or her family could throw at me to make me change my mind about her.

The doors opened and the doctor came out. As soon as she saw him, Vanessa bolted to her feet and the family crowded him.

The doctor made it brief. “I’m Dr. Rasmussen. She’s in recovery. She’s stable,” he said, his tone flat. “I don’t think we’ll need to keep her more than a day.”

Vanessa looked relieved. “Can we see her?”

He looked down at Vanessa like the question irritated him. “No, you cannot. She’s under arrest.”

Vanessa’s face fell. “What?” she breathed.

Gerald blanched next to me. “Arrested? On what grounds?”

The doctor ignored him. “No visitors, and she’ll be released into the Hennepin County jail system,” he said, not even trying to hide his disapproval.

My jaw flexed. I didn’t like his tone—and I knew exactly why he had it.

To him, Annabel was a criminal and a drug addict. And neither thing was his damn business. She was Vanessa’s sister and Grace’s mother, and he’d better pray to God his prejudices didn’t translate into poor care because I’d drag his ass through a malpractice suit the likes of which he’d never seen.

“I’m her attorney,” I said, my voice clipped. “She has a Sixth Amendment right to counsel. I’ll need to speak with her.” I looked at him levelly. “And I sincerely hope when I do, I find she’s receiving nothing but exemplary medical care.”

I watched his eyes narrow.

I’d seen it all. Every sort of subtle cruelty subjected on criminal patients. Making them wait on pain meds, using the largest needle possible for blood draws so they hurt more, treating and streeting them—discharging them early and to the patient’s detriment just to get them off their floor. I knew all the shit they pulled.

And now he knew I knew.

“Fine,” the doctor said stiffly. “Show your ID at the nurses’ station. Give her another twenty minutes to come out of anesthesia or she won’t be much of a conversationalist,” he added. And then he left.

Vanessa looked up at me. She was starting to cry.

I put my hands on her shoulders. “Hey, don’t do that.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “This is my fault. I turned off her phone. She was probably cold and hungry. She went back to her old house to climb into a window because it was negative five outside and she couldn’t even call me for help, and now she’s going to prison with a bullet wound.”

Brent cleared his throat. “Actually, this is my fault.” He sucked air through his teeth. “She was sorta staying with me and Joel after you said she couldn’t be at Dad’s. I kicked her out this morning after my Tiffany bracelet went missing.”

Vanessa blinked at him. “She’s been with you this whole time?”

“She called me after she crashed the car.” He made a face.

Vanessa’s jaw dropped open. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“You know how you get! And anyway, I gave her very firm boundaries and enforced them when she fucked up—and you know what? No.” He crossed his arms. “This isn’t my fault. It’s not your fault or Dad’s fault. She’s a hot fucking mess and that’s on her. Maybe her dumb ass needs to go to prison.”

“Brent!” Vanessa blanched. “She needs help! Not to be incarcerated!”

I put my hand up. “And she’ll get help. She’s not going to prison. I’ll make sure of it.”

Vanessa looked back at me with a sniffle. “How?”

“The house she was breaking into—you said she lived there once? It was her old house?”

She nodded.

“Did they evict her? Or did she just leave?”

Vanessa shook her head. “I think she just left.”

“How long ago?”

She wiped under her eyes. “Three? Maybe four weeks?”

“Okay. Then she’s still a resident of the property and she had a legal right to be on the premises. She wasn’t trespassing—in fact, I’d venture to say the shooter has more to worry about than she does. She’ll be the one dropping charges.”

“But what about the pills? She had all those stolen pills on her. Won’t they say she was selling or something? Say she was a dealer?”

“If anything else sticks, I have a favor I can call in. I’ll get the prosecution to agree on a treatment program in lieu of time. I’ll have her arraigned bedside. She’ll never step foot in a police station, I promise you. She’s in the best place for her right now. She’s safe, and she’s going to get help. I’ll take care of this. You don’t have to worry about it.”