Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Oh,” was all I got out.
“Just give her some space.”
“For how long?” I croaked out.
“As long as it takes,” he said with a sad smile and turned and walked back down the hallway.
I was left standing there, feeling powerless. I’d ruined something again. The most important thing in my life. And there might never be a way to mend what I’d broken.
35
English
The day of the election, Taylor was finally discharged from the hospital. It felt surreal that I was going to be wheeling her out of the hospital today instead of helping Lark with last-minute Election Day stuff. To know that I was going to be on an airplane back to LA instead of at the victory party. Or what I hoped was a victory party. It was still too early to tell.
“Can I just see Bea once before we go?” Taylor asked for what had to be the hundredth time.
I felt guilty, continually saying no. But not only did the doctors and psychiatrists and nurses think it was a bad idea for both of their recovery, but also, the police frankly thought it was a bad idea. It had come out that the drug lord they’d been buying from was the same person the police had been trying to track down for six months. He apparently had a nasty habit of killing young impressionable women. Taylor and Bea were the luckier of most of his victims.
And if all of that wasn’t enough, Bea’s parents refused to allow Taylor access to Bea. They’d told us all next to nothing about her condition since they’d flown in from Boston. Just that the gunshot wound had gone into her abdomen and grazed her liver. We gathered that she was still in critical condition and that it would be several weeks before she could do much of anything. But at least she had made it through the long night of surgeries. Though the hardest part might still be ahead of her.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, kiddo,” my stepmom, Ashley, said from her shoulder. “Bea’s parents still think it’s best that she’s left alone to recover.”
Taylor looked wounded by the statement. “Right. Her parents.”
“But we’re finally going home,” Ashley said. She affectionately ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Won’t it be good to get back to the sunshine? It’s so cold in New York.”
“It sure as hell will be better,” my dad said next to me. “I remember why I never came to New York.”
I just laughed softly at them all. This might have been the longest my dad had ever spent out of the state of California.
He always argued, “Why bother going anywhere else when California has it all?”
“Let’s go home,” I said. Even though I was uncertain what that meant for me anymore.
We wheeled Taylor out of the hospital, laden down with instructions for her recovery and paperwork to transfer her to an LA-based doctor. I blinked against the blinding sunlight. I hadn’t seen it in days and felt a bit like a zombie myself.
I’d given my dad and stepmom the keys to my apartment, so they could go back and sleep the days they were there. They’d brought me a change of clothes and the good shampoo and conditioner. So, I felt more human, but I’d refused to leave Taylor’s side. Even when she’d complained that she was “fine.” But I was the one who had gotten those terrifying voice mails. I couldn’t imagine leaving her now. When I could have prevented it all to begin with.
* * *
Six hours later, our flight touched down at LAX. My body was telling me it was time for dinner, but the sun was telling a different story. Time zones were weird.
I yawned dramatically and took my phone off Airplane mode as we waited for a wheelchair for Taylor. I’d splurged on first class, so we were all comfortably seated, but I hadn’t been able to sleep. I’d always been a bad sleeper, but ever since Taylor had been shot, I couldn’t get more than two or three hours in at a time. I kept waking up from nightmares, gasping for breath. No amount of tai chi had been able to calm me down.
A string of texts appeared on the screen, but it was the news alert that simultaneously had my stomach swooping and a smile appearing on my face.
Mayor Kensington Clinches Reelection Win 51–48 Against Opponent Quinn.
I breathed out in relief. She’d done it. She’d won. All that hard work had paid off. Court’s blunder at the finish line hadn’t completely tripped them up. Though it had been a very narrow margin of victory. Likely that extra one percent going to the third-party candidate had certainly helped.
I leaned back in my seat in relief. I’d gone to New York to help the mayor win reelection by getting her son to fall into line. I’d done it. Mostly.