Demanded by Him (Wanted Series #3) (5 page)

I should’ve been by Sophie’s side. I didn’t even know if she
knew I was there. What if she was scarred? What if she only woke up for two
seconds and I wasn’t there for her?

Was it really such a big ask for me to sit back there and hold
her hand?

I could stay out of the way.

I closed my eyes and sighed. When I tried to quiet my racing
thoughts, all it did was give rise to the crying I could hear coming from the
hallways off the waiting room.

I wished Sophie would wake up and cry. Unlike a lot of the other
drained looking parents in the waiting room, crying would be good in my kid’s
situation. It would mean she was awake. It would mean that her risk of brain
damage was lower, that she might actually come through this unscathed.

I shook my head. How could she let herself get so low? She was
so responsible with her insulin. Ever since she was a little girl she
understood how accountable she needed to be for her health, which was a miracle
considering her mom’s apathetic attitude towards personal care.

But Sophie’s diabetes was a double edged sword. On the one hand,
it was the reason she was so mature, the reason I could take her anywhere and
be proud of the way she carried herself. On the other hand, it was like a curse
that never lifted, a curse that made it so we both had to be ready for even the
most carefree moment to be snatched away and turned into a medical emergency.

Frankly, it was fucking bullshit. Innocent kids shouldn’t get
life threatening diseases, especially a good kid like her.

“Can I get you anything?” Ashley asked after her third trip to
the water cooler.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’m sure Addison will be back any second
now.”

She nodded.

“Actually.” I straightened up. “You really don’t need to stay.
You probably have a bunch of campers you should get back to.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I’m under strict
instructions to stay as long as necessary.”

“You should go,” I said. “I appreciate you taking the ambulance
over with her, but there’s no reason for you to spend the rest of the day
here.”

Ashley looked down and then back at me.

“Do you need a cab or something to get back to camp?”

“That’s okay,” she said, lifting her backpack off the floor.
“One of the other counselors will come pick me up whenever I call.”

“Thanks again for staying with Sophie until I got here.”

“No problem, Mr. Jones. It was my pleasure.”

I stood up and shook her hand.

“The other kids and I will be looking forward to seeing Sophie
again when she gets out of here.”

I nodded. It was a nice thing for her to say, and if going back
to camp was what Sophie wanted when she woke up, I would do everything in my
power to get her there.

“Could I ask you something?” Ashley said, wedging her thumbs
under the straps of her backpack.

“Of course.”

“Would it be terrible if I asked for your autograph?”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Sophie was bragging about you one day and some of the other
counselors and I looked up some of your old songs-”

I tried not to visibly flinch at the mention that my songs were
old. Then again, Ashley was probably Sophie’s age when they came out.

“And some of them were really good and I just thought- never mind-
it’s totally inappropriate of me to even mention it when-”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Really.”

She raised her eyebrows and clasped her hands together. “Yeah?”

“Sure. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Ashley said, slinging her backpack in front of her.
“My camp supervisor will be so excited. She played one of your songs at her
wedding.”

“That’s nice,” I said. “I hope it was a lovely day.”

“It sounds like your song was probably the only good thing about
it actually.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Well, I guess that’s something, too.”

Ashley handed me a marker and a blank piece of paper.

“So Sophie was bragging about me, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ashley said. “I think it’s the only reason she gets away
with being so bossy in music class.”

“Bossy?”

“Yeah. She can always tell when someone hasn’t tuned their guitar
properly.”

My chest swelled with pride.

“And she’s even worse when it comes to the piano.”

I smiled. “That is her area of expertise.”

“I know, and she’s made it very clear that she doesn’t approve
of the fact that we let the kids play around without testing them on what the
pedals do.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s good. At first the other kids thought she was a bit of
a know-it-all, but when they found out her dad was a famous musician, everybody
started listening to what she had to say.”

“I’m sure she loved that.”

“Yeah,” Ashley said, her eyes tearing up. “I hope she’s okay.
She’s one of my favorite kids and if-”

“She’ll be fine,” I said, laying my hand on her shoulder. “She’s
lucky you were on the ball to get her here so fast.”

She dragged the back of one of her fingers against the corner of
her eye. “I hope so.”

I handed Ashley my autograph and her pen.

“Thanks, Mr. Jones.”

“You’re welcome.”

She shoved the paper back in her bag. “Maybe we could take a
quick selfie?”

“Maybe another time,” I said, feeling the usefulness of the
momentary distraction had expired.

“Like when you bring Sophie back to Tanner?”

“Sure,” I said. “That sounds good.”

She zipped up the pocket on the outside of her bag. “Okay.”

“Bye Ashley.”

“Bye.”

Her ponytail swung behind her as she walked out, and I knew I
did the right thing by sending her home- or back wherever she wanted to go. She
was just a kid, probably working at Tanner because her friends did and because
it was a chill summer job, not because she was looking to take trips to the
hospital. But I was grateful she’d come, grateful that Sophie hadn’t been in
the ambulance by herself with strangers poking and prodding her.

A moment later, I was back to wondering who was by her side. I
hoped it was the best they could get. I hoped it wasn’t like one of those TV
episodes where suddenly only the interns are available and my daughter’s life was
in the hands of horny orderlies with hangovers. Dear god let her be surrounded
by the best experts money could buy.

Then again, talk about a situation where money was useless.
Ashley might’ve thought I was someone special after Sophie made an embarrassing
fuss, but to the nurses and the doctors here I was just another stressed out dad
who didn’t understand the monitors his own kid was hooked up to. And no money
in the world was going to get me back in that room before the doctors were
ready to see me.

I just hoped it was soon because it was freezing in here and all
I could think about was her little t-shirt and her jelly sandals and how they
were probably frozen against her feet right now. Or if someone had taken them
off, what did they do with them?

Because they were the clear ones she liked best and they were so
hard to find when they were lost. I’d misplaced them more times than I could
count, and Sophie and I would laugh for ages when we found them cause they were
always right in front of us the whole time.

I shook my head and swallowed. My mouth felt dry but the
glugging water cooler was too far away. What if the nurse came looking for me
and she didn’t see me cause I was getting a drink? I should stay put.

But I needed to do something, something to take my mind off what
was going on inside me and around me and down the hall.

If only I’d come up with something more constructive than Googling
“Diabetic Coma.”

When I finally got to the warm glass cases, my fingers were sticky
against the tray.

And I wished I could say the stuff on offer was worth the wait,
but I’d never seen a less appetizing display in all my life.

First, I shuffled past the food under the warming lights: dry
looking chicken pieces, broccoli hunks floating in standing water, and buttered
toast that was damp with condensation.

I felt my gag reflex wretch.

Then I thought of Wyatt. I couldn’t believe I drank him down so
effortlessly like that. What kind of foxy vixen was I? I mean, that was the
kind of trick I’d expect from a sorority pledge. And while I was doing it I
felt so excited, and it was nice to feel excited about something besides out-witting
someone at the office.

I thought of the office with its maroon carpet runners and the
chipped mug in the kitchen I always went for when it was clean. I didn’t miss
the politics. That was for sure.

And as far as the mental and physical energy the job demanded, I
hadn’t missed that yet, either… probably cause Wyatt had kept me on my feet
from the minute he started banging on that porch.

I wondered if he was done working on the house or if he would
pick up again once he knew Sophie was alright. Would this be goodbye? I mean,
the guy clearly had other priorities and so did I.

If his kid was even half as demanding of his time as my job was
of mine, it would never work out. Plus, I couldn’t have a kid. Or wouldn’t. I
wasn’t sure which, of course, but it didn’t even warrant thinking about.

The next section at the food counter was like some kind of
stomach curling guessing game. There were dozens of small bowls filled with
different colored items, but I couldn’t identify any of the foods because each
bowl was topped with super tight cling film that was squashing the contents of
every single one.

I guessed the white stuff was mashed potatoes. I figured the red
one was either tomato soup or Jell-o, but it was too watery for toothed people regardless.
And the yellow cups looked more like vanilla pudding than creamed corn, but
some of the bowls looked more yellow than others so it was hard to say for
sure.

Either way, I hadn’t seen anything yet that wouldn’t be a huge
let down, and Wyatt really needed some good energy. At least the counselor
could leave when I got down there. If she was even still there. I wondered if
she wanted kids. Probably. Camp counselors tended to have a high tolerance for children.

Not that I thought tolerance was my problem. I guess I just knew
better than anyone how fragile kids were, and how much didn’t get by them. And
for that reason, they absolutely terrified me. Or rather, I was terrified of
breaking or corrupting or scarring or rendering irreparable another living
thing. Besides, I was too busy abusing myself to have a needy dependent who
might require me to reacquaint myself with the food pyramid.

However, it was moving to see Wyatt’s reaction that morning from
the way he packed up the van to the focus he had driving us here. And I’m not
going to say it was love that I could hear in his voice and see in his eyes
when we saw her in the hospital bed, but it was something that felt powerful
enough to make everyone else stop in their tracks and take notice.

Not that I’d ever taken my eyes off him in the first place.

But still.

I should’ve guessed he’d made at least one baby. There was always
something that plagued rock stars after their career, though I was pretty sure
drug and alcohol addiction was more popular than fatherhood. Then again, I didn’t
know very many rock stars. Pregnancy scares probably came with the territory.

When I finally reached some foods I recognized, I was hugely
relieved. They had peanut butter crackers and granola bars, bags of pretzels,
Snickers, and yogurt. I got two of everything and then three cups of coffee.
The coffee came out of the dispenser like sap at first, filling the cup so
slowly it made me question the whole thing.

But at least it was caffeinated- and free with the coupons I
remembered in my pocket at the last second.

I didn’t ask if I could take the tray out of the cafeteria. I
probably could’ve made it without, but it made the hot liquids I was carrying around
more obvious, and I was determined not to toss the world’s smallest hot coffees
over anyone else unlucky enough to be in the same building.

I pressed the elevator button with my elbow and waited,
questioning whether I should’ve sprung for an extra Snickers. Some sugar was
probably just what I needed, which reminded me that I should’ve gotten cream
and sugar for the coffee. Shit. What the hell was I thinking about? I looked
down at the tray and then back down the hall, questioning whether I should go
back.

I mean, forgetting the cream was pretty insensitive.

Would I have to wait in the line again? Surely not. But it would
be easier to run up and get it than go back with the tray if Wyatt needed it,
though I suspect he was worried about other things… and that it was unlikely to
improve the coffee much anyway.

The elevator door opened, and I stared at a middle aged man gripping
a piss bag on wheels.

“Well?” he asked. “You getting in or not?”

I stepped onto the lift and gave him plenty of space.

“I didn’t realize they had such cute waitresses at this
hospital,” the guy said, tightening the belt on his robe.

“Oh I’m not a waitress I-”

“I know,” he said. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

I smiled. “Right.”

“What are you in for?”

“A friend of mine- his daughter’s here. She’s in a diabetic
coma.”

“Jesus.”

“Is that very serious?”

The guy squinted and scratched his shiny, never ending forehead.
“It’s more serious than anything that doesn’t potentially end in brain damage.”

“Brain damage?”

“How old is the little girl?”

“Nine.”

The guy nodded, keeping one hand around the hanging bag between
us. “Well I hope she pulls through.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Me too.”

The elevator door opened, but no one stepped on so we watched
the doors close again.

“What about you?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows. “I came in for a vasectomy and got an
infection.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“I know. To make matters worse, I haven’t figured out a way to
make that story any shorter.”

“Are you already a father then?”

He nodded. “I’ve got six kids by two different women and my current
girlfriend is getting ideas.”

“I see.”

“I wish I could tell her what I’ve done,” he said. “But it would
break her heart.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. She’s gonna leave me when she realizes I’m broke
anyway.”

“Right.”

“I used to have looks and money, you know?”

“Better to have loved and lost they say.”

He nodded. “So true. Less money for my women to cheat off me now
anyway.”

The elevator dinged and the man took one step towards the doors.
“Pleasure meeting you.”

“You too,” I said. “And good luck with your penis.”

“Same to your friend’s kid.” He lifted his free hand in the air
as the doors closed between us. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Thanks.”