Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance (69 page)

“Well, he's a tool on the field, but he cleans up real good,” Sloane remarked, shaking her head. “Alright, I've got a meeting across town to get to right now, but I'll come by and see you guys at Bellevue later, okay?”

“No worries. Have a good meeting.”

Val lifted his square aviators as I came down the steps.

“Hey.” I stood on my tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. “Aren't you supposed to be at practice?”

“I was, but I got out early to see you, maybe give you a ride to the hospital.” Val reached for my hand. He drew circles in my palm, gazing deeply into my eyes. “I'm really sorry about what happened the other day. I should have been more considerate about what was going on. I hope you know I wasn't trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I was just trying to help.”

I sighed, feeling the corners of my mouth tugging.

“I know. It's okay. Thank you for being here, Val. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you, Carrie.” Val opened the passenger's door for me. “Shall we?”

When we arrived at Pediatrics, I led the way to the nurses' station. Nurse Samantha was standing behind the counter with a phone clamped between her ear and neck, clicking away on the keyboard. I drummed my fingers along the counter, waiting for her to get off the phone.

“Carrie. Mr. Presley.” She finally hung up. The pity smile on her face was starting to get to me.

“Can we go –”

“No reporters today, huh?” Val cut in, looking around him. My eyebrows knitted together at the visible disappointment in his face.

“No, and that's a good thing,” said Nurse Samantha sourly. “We can't have a media circus in here everyday congesting these hallways.”

“Of course, of course.” Val ran his tongue over his teeth. “So, can we go in now?”

“Go right ahead.”

As we aimed for Jackson's room, Val weaved his fingers through mine.

“Why don't you go ahead? I'll get us something to drink, seeing as we're gonna be here a while. What would you like?”

“That sounds great. Um, I'll just have a Sprite, thanks.”

“You got it.” Val kissed me on the forehead before setting off for the vending machine.

I was about to let myself into Jackson's room when the door opened. A tall, really cute nurse with a side-comb and small, dark eyes was on his way out. He lowered his clipboard, his attractive eyes slitting even more with his smile.

“Oh, sorry. Excuse me.”

“Not a problem.” He stepped aside, holding the door open for me. “Carrie, right? I'm Nurse Hiro.”

“Good to meet you. How's Jackson looking today?”

“All his levels seem to be stable. Not much has changed yet, but don't worry, Jackson's in good hands.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Remember to talk to Jackson. He may not be responding, but he hears you.” Nurse Hiro bowed his head with another friendly smile. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go finish up my rounds. Please don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

“Alright, thanks again.”

I hadn't walked 2 steps into Jackson's room yet when the door burst open once more.

“Who was that nurse you were talking to?”

I whipped around, my nose wrinkling at Val's caustic tone. He handed me my Sprite and set his own Gatorade down on the visitor's sofa. I cracked open my soda, quenching my thirst before I tackled this.

“I don't know, Nurse Hiro? We just met.”

“Yeah? And what were you guys talking about?”

“He was just giving me an update on Jackson... Why are you asking me this again?”

“Really? 'Cause from where I was standing, it sure looked like the cocksucker was hitting on you.”

“Watch your language,” I snapped, glancing over my shoulder at Jackson's sleeping face. “Don't be ridiculous. No one was hitting on anyone –”

“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” said Val. He slid his arms around my waist, pulling me in for another embrace. “I don't know where that came from. I just get a little defensive. Like I said, I really like you, Carrie. I just don't want anything to screw this up.”

I was speechless. But as I felt the soothing warmth of his chest against my cheek, I hugged him back. Val was here for me, and that should have been the only thing that mattered. Besides, with what was going on, all our emotions were understandably on the fritz. Choosing to shake it off, I hugged Val tighter, breathing in the crisp fragrance of detergent on his sleeve.

Chapter Thirty-Six:
Kingsley

Leaning against the brick wall behind me, I adjusted the height of my phone. I dragged 2 fingers apart on the screen, zooming in as I aimed it at the sushi place across the street. A young couple sat by the window in perfect view.

The woman was a shining example of one of those high-maintenance diva types. She wore giant red sunglasses indoors and her hair was all done up like she was on her way to prom. It looked like a possum had curled up and died around her neck, too. The dope on the other end was just a random beefcake fuck boy. He wore a black V-neck that was way too small, and there was so much product in his hair it looked like you could sharpen a knife off it. Watching him feeding her raw eel across the table was doing something to the late breakfast I just downed 20 minutes ago, but this was good stuff. I snapped a couple of pictures, going crazy on the burst mode as I caught them touching tongues across the table.

“What up, playa?”

I turned my attention to the hot dog cart to my left. Beastly saluted me with a bun in each hand. His sketchy travel jacket with the multiple pockets, crass bling, and ripped jeans stood out like a black bean in a bowl of rice in this neighborhood. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and pulled up my hood.

“Want a dog, dawg?” Beastly quipped. He tore into both hot dogs, chomping happily.

“I'm good, thanks. Let's keep walking.”

“Okay, but you're missing out, man.” Beastly fist bumped the vendor before catching up with me.

I took him to an alley behind a Chinese restaurant, setting up shop on the stoops of an abandoned warehouse. By the time we sat down, Beastly had already scarfed down both buns. He wiped his greasy hands on the sides of his jacket and started rummaging around in his pockets.

“You're in luck. One of my suppliers just got a shipment from Tijuana, and this shit gon' get you fucked up –”

“I'm not looking to buy anything,” I stopped him before he could get too excited. “I just need to talk to you. But I could pay you for your time, if you want.”

“Oh, okay. Naw, that's cool.” Beastly took his hands out of his pockets, laying them flat on the steps next to him. “You don't gotta pay me. We friends, right?”

“For sure, man. So, you remember that chick you were talking about? The one that picks up arsenic?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. That chick ain't right in the head. Don't know how she's still walking around free when one of my homeboys is locked up for a little dime bag,” said Beastly, shrugging. “She fine, though. What about her?”

I took my phone back out of my pocket and loaded Jamie's Instagram.

Hundreds of obnoxious selfies and pictures of Jackson filled the screen. The latest one was the most fucked up of them all. It was a filtered picture of a crying Jamie wearing more makeup than a drag queen, clasping Jackson's hand in hers. She made it a point to show off his hospital bracelet to the camera. Under the picture was the caption, “
Plz pray for my baby. Trying to stay strong. Thanks for all the support. We love you all. #SingleMamaStruggles #TeamJackson #MommiesUnite.
” And below that were links to her Snapchat and a Facebook fan page set up for Jackson.

I scrolled through the nauseating pictures and found a random one of her facing the camera straight on.

“Is this the girl?”

Beastly sat up straight, his eyes widening. He clammed up and went pale, leaning forward to look up and down the empty alley. When he sat back down, he pushed my phone away and inched away from me.

“I ain't no snitch, man.”

“Listen to me, Beastly.” I scrolled to the next picture. It was one of Jackson in some kind of tree costume, posing with both thumbs up. I gripped Beastly's shoulder, forcing my phone in front of him. When I knew I got his attention, I swiped to the next picture of Jackson in his hospital bed. “You're right. That bitch is a fucking lunatic, because that's the dude she's been poisoning.”

Beastly's shoulders slumped as he stared at the camera. The cloudy look in his eyes parted, slowly sobering up from whatever high he was on. Seeing the defeated look on his face, I put my phone down.

“That's her son. He's 5 years old, man.”

“I swear to you, I didn't know.” Beastly buried his face in his hands, rubbing his temples. “I don't ask any questions. That's why I'm good at my job – shit. What am I supposed to do? This shit is fucked up, yo. I can't rat her out –”

“No, but I've got a feeling she's about to hit you up real soon for another refill.” I looked him square in the eyes. “And you let me know when she does –”

“I don't know, man. I don't wanna get involved.” Beastly jumped to his feet, brushing off the dirt on the back off his pants. “I gotta run. This product ain't gonna move itself, know what I mean?”

“Don't be stupid, Beastly. If the kid dies, his blood is on your hands.”

As Beastly walked away from me, I cupped my hands around my mouth and hollered after him.

“Think about what I said, bro!”

Chapter Thirty-Seven:
Carrie

“You know, you're missing back-to-back episodes of Alan the Architect.”

Though I could see his chest rising and falling, Jackson's cheek felt so cold against my fingers. I dragged my chair a little closer to his bed, rubbing his arm gently. The catchy tune to the claymation cartoon on the TV filled the heartrending quiet of the room.

“Alan and his team are building a new day care center for Kittyville.” The lump in my throat was making it impossible to keep the shakiness out of my voice. “And on the next episode, they're building a new town hall for – wait for it – Dino County!”

I wasn't expecting a reaction, but his lack of a response only intensified the stinging in my chest. He looked so peaceful in his static slumber, I was afraid he'd made himself too much at home. I stared intently at his eyelids, just praying to anyone who would listen for them to peel back.

Heaving a jagged breath, I leaned away from him. Torturing myself with useless hopes and wishes wasn't doing anyone any good. I needed to fight as hard as Jackson was fighting. But as I rocked back against my chair, I saw it. A startling dark red liquid dribbled down the tube connected to Jackson's urine bag.I reached over to the control panel on Jackson's bed instinctively, smashing the Nurse call button.

Nurse Samantha sped into the room just a few seconds later. The front of her bun was sticking out with flyaways like she'd just rubbed a balloon over her head, and the ID hanging on her neck strap was flung over the side over her shoulder from her haste.

“What's wrong, Carrie?”

My brain was shorting in my panic, and no words were coming out of my mouth. All I could do was point at the urine bag under Jackson's bed. Nurse Samantha called out over her shoulder, summoning Dr. Wang and Nurse Hiro. Nurse Hiro laid a hand on my back gently, whispering some sort of encouragement in my ear before leading me out of the room.

I watched the door close in slow motion, shunning me into the dark. My head was screaming with fear, seizing my temples hostage. I spun away from the scene, colliding face first with a hulking, powerful chest.

I couldn't explain it; I didn't see his face, but I just knew who it was. Burying my face into his chest, I felt a solacing warmth course through me. His shoulders relaxed as he held me, raking his fingers through my hair. He said nothing. I said nothing. There were no tears, either. Time had paused just for a second, allowing me to breathe. Finally, I stepped back and gazed up at him.

“Kingsley.”

“What's going on?”

“Saw some blood in Jackson's urine. Dr. Wang's in there checking on him right now.” I sounded more put-together than I actually felt.

Kingsley nodded solemnly, looking around him.

“Where's Jamie?”

“I sent her home so she could take a proper shower and get some sleep on an actual bed.” I raised my eyebrows, blowing a raspberry. “It wasn't easy –”

“Okay.” Kingsley rubbed his palms together, pacing. “Okay. I need to talk to you about something. It's important. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

I held onto one elbow as I led him to the emergency exit, pushing down on the heavy metal bar to gain access to the staircase. We wandered down the steps before settling on a secluded landing on the floor with the least activity. I rested my weight on one leg and leaned against a corner, hugging myself.

“Okay, so bear with me here. I know how this is going to sound, but I've got proof –”