Just You (13 page)

A sharp jolt of anger caught in my belly because that was what I had thought. Had they been there, hanging around, to get at Jake? “I don’t know.” I wished I did know.

God, I couldn’t believe how angry I was. I wanted to smash up the hospital when the hospital had done nothing wrong. They were saving his life.

But frick …  Jake.

I was still numb. I was living in another universe and looking in through a window at this one. I wasn’t in my head. I gripped Portia’s hand harder. I couldn’t believe she’d taken Dillon away…

Portia…

Self-interested, stuck-up, Portia had helped my mom by looking after my kid brother. I had got the girl wrong. Right now she was my pathway back to sanity.

Shit Jake. What the frick were you doing?

I tipped my head back against the wall and shut my eyes.
Lord, I know I don’t pray but if you are up there, I’m praying now, and not for me, for Jake. Save him. He doesn’t deserve this. I let him down. Don’t let him die.

A tear rolled from my right eye. Portia wouldn’t be able to see it. Its path tracked down my cheek. I didn’t wipe it away. My tears would prove to God how much I cared. The Man had to save Jake.
What can I give you? I’ll give you anything if you save my brother.

My eyes stayed shut and air pulled into my lungs. I let it out.
Come on, Jake, live.
Now I started sending my vibes through the air to him, willing him to fight, and live.

“Mrs. Preston?”

My eyes shot open. There was a guy in a green suit standing before us, his hands hung at his sides, and he had a stupid green hat on. Mom nodded.

“Can I have a word?”

Oh shit. Was the guy going to say Jake hadn’t survived?

Mom stood up, and I stood up too, without even thinking.

“This is Jake’s brother,” Mom said.

“Will you come with me?” He held his hand out.

I was still gripping Portia’s, and she’d stood too. “Is it okay if my girlfriend comes?”

“Yes of course, if you wish her to be there.”

I wished her to be there. “Yes.” In answer, Portia pressed close to my shoulder and hugged my arm, offering comfort and reassurance. She didn’t succeed, but I cared more for her for trying.

The guy led us to a tiny room. Inside it there were four low cushioned chairs. He sat on one. Mom sat next to him. I was still gripping Portia’s hand as she sat next to me, and we were all leaning forward, desperate to hear.

“Mrs. Preston, your son survived the surgery, but his spleen has ruptured, so we’ve had to remove it and repair areas of his bowel. The stab wound didn’t damage any other organs but we’re keeping him in ICU until we’re sure he’s okay.”

“ICU?” I echoed, surely that meant things were bad.

“The Intensive Care Unit. Don’t worry, he’s not in any immediate risk, but the next twenty-four hours are crucial, if he survives those, then he should be okay.”

Emotion thrashed around in my chest smashing me up, like I wanted to smash the world up. Jake…

“Can we see him?” Mom asked.

“In a little while. Give him a chance to settle.” The guy took a breath. “Have you thought about how you’ll cover the bills?”

I shut my eyes for an instant. We didn’t have that sort of money. It was going to take us a lifetime to pay this off.

“I’ll sort it,” Portia whispered quietly.

I looked at her, my fingers catching even tighter about hers. “It’s not your responsibility.”

“I know, but I want to, I have the money. I had a trust fund. It paid out when I was twenty-one. I’ve never touched it. I wanted Dad to know I could support myself, but… this… I want to use it. “

I looked at Mom, she would hate the idea.

“Let me, please.” Portia didn’t give her a chance to argue. “Mrs. Preston. It’s nothing to me… Let me help you?” Mom opened her mouth to protest, but Portia carried on. “The money is just sitting in a bank. Let me use it please. It’ll take you years to pay the bills back. I can pay it now and you won’t need to worry … ”

Mom’s eyes looked defeated, she didn’t want to have to say yes, and yet she had to. We didn’t have the money.

“I’d be grateful, Portia. Thank you.”

Oh my God. What the fuck was going on today? Mom looked at Portia with eyes that apologized for saying yes. She’d always hated help. She was a fighter, she did stuff for herself, worked it out, got through it… But now…

I looked at the doctor. “You’ll tell us as soon as we can see him, yeah?”

“As soon as, but you’ll need to be patient a little longer.”

The man stood and said, “If you haven’t got any more questions?”, as if he was really telling us not to have any more ‘cause he needed to get back to work.

“Nope,” I answered.

“No,” Mom echoed.

Portia looked from Mom to me, then up at the doctor.

“Very well then. We’ll keep you informed.” With that, the guy was gone.

Portia stood up. “I’m gonna go down to the reception and sort out the payment.”

I stood too. “Portia, you don’t have to do that…”

“I know, but I want to. I’ll be back soon. Mrs. Preston, you can concentrate on Jake then.”

I turned back to Mom when Portia went out, though really I wanted to go with Portia. “You okay?”

She stood up. I rested my hand on her shoulder and she turned into me, holding me for a moment.

She wasn’t tactile. She was a fighter, not a comforter. This wasn’t usual for her.

I sighed and put both my arms around her for a moment. She didn’t cry. She’d stopped crying when Dad left.

“He’ll be okay,” I said, I wanted to believe it.

She pulled away from me and looked up, the light in her eyes dulled by pain. “Robin, is probably finished changing–he’s gonna be wondering where we are, and Dillon will worry.”

I nodded.

I reached past her and pulled the door open for her so she could walk ahead of me, but in the corridor my gaze reached for Portia. She was gone.

Robin was sitting in a chair in the waiting area, and Dillon was beside him holding out a book he must have got from a toy box somewhere.

Robin stood up. “Where have you been?” He was scared. I set a hand on his shoulder. Mom gave Dillon a hug. “Jake’s out of surgery. He’s okay, but now it’s just wait and see.” I turned. “Mom, I’m going after, Portia.”

She nodded, before focusing on Dillon again. He was holding the book up for her to read.

My pace increased with every step. I wanted to run, and just get out of here. I’d failed.

As I stood in the elevator, I bashed my head back against the metal about three times, trying to knock out all the emotion tumbling around my head. I didn’t succeed.

Portia stood by the counter, leaning on it, filling in some form when I got down to reception. I leaned on the counter next to her. I wanted to hold her so tight she’d get squished.

She was filling out bank information. “You don’t have to do that, Portia.”

She glanced at me. “I know, but I want to, and that’s the end of that conversation. Don’t upset your Mom.”

She carried on writing. She was right. But having to take money off her was crap. It shifted everything between us.

I sighed as she swirled her signature and handed the form to the woman behind the counter. She read it over, then looked up. “Thank you. It all looks fine.”

“Thanks,” Portia answered before turning to me, her head tipping a little to the side, like she felt my annoyance and didn’t know what to do. But frick, I didn’t know what to do either. My brother was upstairs in ICU, and I was taking thousands of dollars off my girlfriend, who’d only agreed to be my girlfriend yesterday!

But I wanted to kiss her. I just wanted to escape into her.

“Do you want to go back up?” she asked. “Or do you want some fresh air for a minute?”

Air suddenly seemed like gold. “Air.”

She gripped my hand and pulled me. I was unraveling–falling apart. I needed to get outside the door. It was dark, but the darkness was bleached yellow from the streetlights.

She pulled me to one side, and into the shadow thrown by some plant, then she lifted up onto her toes, and pressed a kiss against my jaw, as her arms reached around my neck. I held her too, my arms a tight band, hanging on in a hurricane; and then I cried like a jackass. But it was the fear tied so tight in me slipping out into her. She never lifted her head, didn’t say a word, just held me.

What would I do, if Jake died? How would I deal with it? I clung on, letting emotion wash through me. Anger. Pain. Hurt. Agony.

She could have said,
it’ll be okay,
like I’d said to Mom, but we didn’t know that. I knew the truth–there were no guarantees. I’d have been angry with her if she’d said it. I just needed her to be silent and hold me, and that was all she did.

I didn’t know how long it took before the pain ebbed enough for me to let her go, but I felt better–stronger. I was ready to go back in and be the stone pillar Mom, Robin and Dillon needed.

“Do you want to go back?” she whispered into the air between us. There was no judgment, or pity, or anything to annoy me, only support.

“Yeah.” God, I couldn’t believe this was Portia. Arrogant, belligerent, upper-class, Portia, who I’d had a drunken fondle with on New Year’s Eve, just ‘cause I fancied the look of her. Now…
now
… This girl was the sun to me.

“Come on.” She took my hand and pulled me back toward the hospital entrance.

The hospital seemed bright, after being outside in the dark.

I hadn’t wanted her to tell me everything was gonna be alright, but as we walked through the corridors, I felt it and said it to myself over and over.

Her blue eyes looked at me as we waited for the elevator, asking if I was okay.

“I’m okay. Sorry to drag you in to all this.”

“I don’t feel dragged, I want to help.”

The elevator bell chimed, then the doors slid open. It was empty.

I pulled her into it, leaned back against the metal, and drew her against me. She pressed the button.

Before the doors were even closed, I pressed my mouth down on hers. Her tongue weaved about mine as her fingers gripped my neck. It was complete freedom for a couple of minutes until the bell rang, telling us we were there. My forehead rested against hers as we caught our breath and the doors slid open.

There was cop standing there.

Shit.

She moved away from me. But I gripped her hand and kept her close.

“Justin Preston?”

Play along, keep calm.
“Yeah.”

Chapter Eleven

I was sitting in a side room facing the cop who’d played welcoming committee outside the elevator. They’d taken the room over to begin an investigation. There was another cop in the corner.

“And you’re sure you don’t know the names of any of the guys you say you saw in the stairwell.” They’d asked me the same question four times.

“Yes.” And I was fighting to keep the anger and annoyance out of my voice. It was like they thought I was caught up in it. Like I’d stabbed my own brother.

“And you have
never
, been involved with any gang?” Third time for that question. They were just asking them in a different order, like they thought they’d catch me out, and I’d say, yes.

“The answer is no. Never. Ever. I’m not into any of that. I bring up my brothers, and I’m bringing them up to avoid that crap. They aren’t gonna avoid it if I was in a gang. I don’t know how someone got their claws into Jake, and I haven’t asked him ‘cause he’s been in surgery…” I was tired. They’d been on at me for an hour, and I had nothing to tell them.

The cop in front of me had been leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, while the other one scribbled down stuff. He leaned back now. His eyes staring at me as if silence was going to break me and make me admit I’d done it.

I stared him out, but tried to keep my expression from getting angry. Just let him see,
I had nothing to say
.

“Well, I guess you can go back to your Mom and your girl, but send your brother, Robin, in here.”

Cool. Robin was in no state to handle this. But there was no choice. He’d have to deal with it. I just hoped he remembered everything I’d taught him about handling cops. Stay calm and say as little as you have to, otherwise they wrapped your own words up against you.

“Thanks.” I nodded at the guy as I stood, feeling the heaviness of exhaustion in my limbs. It must be nearly two a.m.

Apparently, when we’d first come to the hospital, they’d been down at the site of the incident, gathering evidence there. I’d been told that, like it was meant to put the shit up me, because I’d think they’d discovered evidence against me.

Before I went out the door, I looked at them both. “Robin is nothing to do with this either. But once you’ve worked that out, I’d be grateful if you focus on finding the mother-fuckers who are…”

I walked out before they could answer, but the light I’d caught in their eyes before I looked away suggested they might finally believe me.

Robin was sitting next to Mom in the alcove. I couldn’t see Portia, but when I reached it, I discovered her lying across the opposite seats, her legs curled up on them and her head pillowed on her coat as she slept. Robin had been watching her, but now he looked at me, his eyes full of questions–and fear.

“They want to talk to you.”

He stood. His hand shook as it lifted to rub over his hair.

“You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve got nothing to worry about. You weren’t involved. Just tell them the truth …  You’ll be okay.” I glanced at Mom, who was looking nervous too. She’d had enough run-ins with the cops over Dad, but for different reasons–he had been guilty of gang attacks, thefts and domestic violence.

“Mom, why don’t you go in with him? They’d probably let you, they wouldn’t let me. They’d think I was in there to threaten him into silence or somethin’. I’ll come and get you out if there’s any news on Jake.”

She stood up and nodded. She knew Robin wasn’t ready to face this. Not that she was either. But what else could she do? I looked down at Portia again, suddenly realizing Dillon wasn’t there. “Where’s–” I didn’t get the rest out before Robin pointed to a door at the back of the alcove.