Mid Life Love: At Last (Mid Life Love #2)(61)

“Claire...Please just—”

“Stop f**king talking to me, Ryan!” I was crying angrily. “You’ve done enough!”

“Five minutes...You can’t give her that?”

“NO!” I took a few deep breaths and tried not to scream. “I have a brand new life now and I don’t need you or Amanda in it for any longer than you’ve already been. You are both f**king scum and her being in surgery doesn’t change shit about what you two did to me. Just lie to her and say I forgave her, just like you lied to me. It shouldn’t be that hard for you.”

“Listen...” He suddenly released his grip. “I know you don’t honestly feel like that.”

I slid past him and ran towards the emergency stairwell, hoping that he would just give up and leave me alone.

I made it through the door and was halfway down a flight of stairs when I felt him grabbing my arm—twisting it harshly.

“Help! Helpppp!” I screamed as loud as I could, but he didn’t seem fazed at all.

Instead he squeezed my arm even harder and pulled me close to him. “I’ve changed a lot in the past few years...” He looked possessed, and he was really hurting me. “In ways you can’t even begin to imagine, Claire. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but—”

I brought my other arm up and slapped the shit out of him.

His eyes darkened and he hissed. Shocked, he let me go and pushed me away from him—hard.

I tried to brace myself against the wall, but I couldn’t. I lost my footing and felt myself quickly tumbling, tumbling, tumbling—until I felt sharp pains all over, until everything went black.

Chapter 16

Claire

“Miss Gracen?” A soft voice said. “Miss Gracen? Can you hear me?”

I groaned and slightly opened my eyes, shutting them once a bright light seeped in.

“Do you know where you are?”

I kept my eyes shut. I couldn’t speak.

“Could someone get me a fresh IV?” “Leave the monitor alone please.” “Did she have a cell phone when she was brought in? Anything else besides her ID?”

There were clicking sounds and annoying beeping noises that seemed to get louder and louder with each second.

I felt a sharp piercing pain in my right arm and forced my eyes open to see a nurse pushing a needle into my skin.

The soft voice that had spoken before, spoke again. “You’re at St. Francis, in an intensive care unit. Okay honey?”

She asked me more questions—something about how I was feeling and if I was seeing in color, but all I could do was wonder about what the f**k had happened.

The last thing I heard her ask was “Can you feel this?” before everything around me went black.

“Miss Gracen?” That familiar soft voice woke me up.

I nodded and opened my eyes. This time I was able to keep them open and actually see the woman I was speaking to: A petite brunette with a bright red headband and a matching nametag with hearts around it—Doctor Phillips.

“Can you feel anything right now?” She touched my forehead.

I tried to shake my head, but there was something holding my neck in place. “No...” I murmured.

“Well, good. I’m going to keep you on the morphine drip for a day or two, and then I’ll have to prescribe some pain medication for you to take home. You’re very lucky that you only have a concussion and a few severe sprains.”

“What?” I croaked.

She raised her eyebrow and removed a clipboard from underneath her arms. “You’ve sprained both your ankles, you have a dislocated shoulder—your left one, interior bruising on your back, a severe neck sprain, and a concussion. Not bad for falling down ten flights of steps. Like I said, very lucky.”

I blinked. I was too numb to say something smart to her right now.

She walked around the bedside—where I couldn’t turn my neck to see her, and then she stepped back into my sight and handed me my cell phone. “I had to put it on silent because it kept ringing. Is there any one you would like me to call for you and let them know you’re here? Your fiancée maybe?” She looked at my engagement ring.

I took my time tapping my screen, typing the words “My daughters...Ashley and Caroline” before holding out the phone to her.

“Okay. I’ll do that right now...” She smiled and scrolled through my contacts. “Hello may I speak to Ashley please? No, this is...No, I...Your mom is in the hospital, hun. She can’t speak right now but she wants you to know she’s okay...Calm down, calm down...Well, yes... She wanted me to call you and your sister to let you know...St Francis Hospital, room fifty thirty, east wing. Okay sweetheart. Goodbye.”

She adjusted my pillow and handed the phone back to me. “Anyone else?”

I typed my mother and she called and left a voicemail. After that, I asked her to call Rita—typing “take over for me this week” as the message I wanted to give. And after I had her call Greg—who apparently had been in the waiting room since I arrived last night, I managed a smile to let her know that was it.

“You don’t want me to call your fiancée?” She cleared her throat.

I looked down at my phone and scrolled through my missed calls: Greg, Greg, Greg, Ryan, Greg, Greg, Greg, Ryan. There were a few calls from my business, but not a single call from Jonathan.