Shattered Dreams (Boys of Bellerose, #3)(5)

“We’ll have you at the hospital in a minute, Mr. Adams. Please, just try and lie as still as possible. I’m getting some oxygen and fluids into you, and the rest will be assessed in triage.”

I nodded, letting myself relax back into the pillow. What a fuck of a day. Flo’s funeral, then Tom the Fucker’s request, and then someone tried to kill us. Again. My damaged hearing had nothing on the fact that all of us could have died today. Today, when we were mourning our friend who was killed in the last attempt. I’d already lost Flo, and I could not handle losing any others.

Angelo and Billie could have died today.

Rhett and Grayson.

My family.

My new aim in life was to figure out who was behind the farmhouse and then this bombing and tear them into tiny fucking pieces. Then I’d burn those pieces and scatter their ash into the closest pig shit I could find.

It was the only fitting ending.

I’d spent the past few days feeling sorry for myself, hating Billie harder than ever because she’d kept the truth of my child from me. A child who had died in a fucking fir—

I sat bolt upright, scaring the poor guy who’d just finished fixing my drip in place. But I’d finally figured out the real reason Billie was having a seizure. It had to be the reason. She’d been unconscious, maybe stuck in some sort of triggering flashback. I’d seen her face when Angelo had landed in a campfire, and here we were, in another fire. Another fire where people she loved were hurt. Like her parents. Like her… our baby girl.

“Sir, you need to relax.” The guy attempted to push me back, but he had no hope of moving me. I might party like a rock star, but I worked out like a bodybuilder. It was the only way to exorcise my demons.

Ripping the mask free, I nailed him with a glare. “I need updates on my friends. Are we all heading for the same hospital?”

He blinked, and I could tell he had no fucking clue. To his credit, though, he did ask the driver, who called back, “Yep, they have enough room at Naples General to take everyone. No need to split the group.”

That was a relief. “I need to see Billie,” I said shortly. “The blonde who was taken first. She’s been in a fire before, and her seizure could be a reaction to past trauma. I mean, check injuries first, but I need to let the doctors know her history.”

He nodded, understanding that until they took me seriously, I wasn’t going to stop. “Mr. Adams, I assure you that you and your friends will have the best care available. I’ll personally make sure that you get to speak with Billie’s doctor and the other band members.” He paused, eyes shifting between me and the driver briefly before he leaned in and lowered his voice. “Any chance for an autograph? I’m a huge fan.”

I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but an ally when we got there could come in handy.

Relaxing back into the bed once more, I nodded. “You ensure I get to see Billie and Rhett when we arrive at the hospital. And immediate updates on Angelo. Then I will get you all the signed band merch you can handle.”

The smile on his face was goddamn beaming, and I tried to remember that we needed fans to keep making music. Today, though, when someone had tried to fucking murder me and everyone I loved, it was a hard reminder.

Bellerose had saved me once, but it felt like my downfall now.





three





BILLIE


Why did people always seem to think that running water was soothing? It wasn’t. At all. It just made me need to pee, and then I’d always end up anxious because it’s never a time or place where restrooms are convenient. So there was little wonder why I was shifting uncomfortably in the overstuffed armchair, trying desperately not to look at the stupid decorative fountain in the corner.

“How are you feeling today, Billie?” the smartly dressed woman opposite me asked, her head tilted to the side with curiosity.

I didn’t answer. What the fuck did she want me to say? It’d been a week since the explosion—the fire—that nearly killed us all, and I’d met with Dr. Candace every day since the hospital discharged me for my physical injuries. My mental ones were another matter. They were the reason I was sitting here, talking about my feelings. Again.

My therapist gave a tiny sigh, one I wasn’t meant to hear, then tried again. “Do you have plans for Christmas?”

I laughed bitterly. “With who? All my family? In my home? Oh wait, I don’t have either of those things.” Okay, sure, maybe the reasons I was in therapy were more than just the bomb at Big Noise. Maybe, just maybe, I needed the help to work through some of my past trauma.

It still didn’t mean I had to like it.

“Billie, we both know that’s not true,” she said with a small shake of her head. “Just because they’re not related to you doesn’t mean that Rhett, Grayson, and J—”

“Don’t. Do not tell me that Jace holier-than-thou Adams is my fucking family.” I all but spat those words, the instant anger ripping through me so fast my hands shook. “Rhett and Grayson are…” Fuck. What were they to me now? We had been lovers, I guess. But now? Now, everything felt so different. Broken.

I swallowed my emotions back, my knee bouncing as I tried to hold my need to pee.

“Okay, so let’s talk about where you’re staying when you leave here today,” Dr. Candace suggested with a small grimace of disappointment. “I understand you’ve already been discharged. Tell me about what your plans are.”