Chapter 19

19

Isla

I sla was pulling clothes out of the machine—she was glad most of her clothes were black, as it meant less time spent sorting—when her phone rang.

It was her personal phone, not her work phone, and it was an unknown number, so she almost didn’t pick up. Chances were, it was someone trying to sell her something she didn’t need and couldn’t afford. But the unknown number nagged at her, so on the fourth ring, she picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Isla? My name is Alex Wright. I work with Ry.”

She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Because there had to be a reason Ry wasn’t calling her himself. He’d said he would, and Isla believed him. What’s more, she wanted to speak with him. She wanted to be clear about why she’d acted the way she had earlier—yes, she’d let her triggers get the best of her—but also why she couldn’t see him anymore. Because she wasn’t about to become the other woman .

But none of that mattered right now, because this wasn’t Ry calling.

“Is Ry okay?” she asked.

“We’re at the hospital. Ry’s going to be okay,” the man added quickly. But not quickly enough. Isla felt bile rise to her throat. Regardless of what they might agree or disagree about—even if they couldn’t be together anymore—Isla didn’t want Ry hurt.

“Are you sure he’s okay?” It had to be bad, or else Ry would call her himself.

“He hurt his shoulder during a rescue.”

Shit, his shoulder again.

“He’s in surgery, but he asked me to call you and explain.”

Isla realized her jacket and shoes were on—she’d put them on without even realizing it. “I’m on my way,” she said, half-expecting Alex to tell her not to come, but he simply gave her directions to the hospital.

Isla drove twice as slowly as usual—last thing she wanted was to get into an accident because her head wasn’t in the right place. When she reached the gray hospital building, she drove right past the Urgences entrance and parked in the second parking lot to the left, as Alex had instructed.

Taking what passed for a deep breath, she went through the glass doors. There was a waiting room to the left, lined with empty plastic chairs, and another one to the right, this one full of people. A tall red-haired man stood up and strode towards her.

“You must be Isla,” he said, offering his hand for her to shake. “I’m Alex.”

Isla shook automatically but barely heard the next thing he said, her full attention on the beautiful woman walking into the waiting room from the entrance on the opposite side. The woman from the slopes . She looked different, of course—the first time Isla had seen her, she’d been smiling widely. Now, those full lips looked pinched and drawn with worry.

Isla clenched her teeth. She shouldn’t have come. She should have stayed home. Maybe she could still leave. Maybe?—

She pulled at the hand in Alex’s grasp, but it was too late. The woman was making a beeline towards them. Isla tensed, not knowing what to expect. Expecting anything, perhaps—except for the woman to reach out on tiptoes and plant a kiss on Alex’s mouth.

The couple didn’t seem to notice Isla’s surprise—probably wouldn’t have noticed anything short of a meteorite falling on their heads. Finally, the woman broke the kiss. As she noticed Isla, an apologetic smile crossed her face. “Sorry. I’m Yvette.”

“You and Alex …” Isla shook herself. Obviously she and Alex.

A surge of embarrassment hit her then, and Isla was sure her face was lighting up like a Christmas tree. Ry hadn’t been two-timing her. Her triggers had gotten the best of her. Thankfully, Alex misinterpreted her discomfort. “If she looks familiar to you, it’s because Yvette is the mayor’s Chief of Staff,” Alex said, pride in his voice.

Yvette smacked him lightly on the arm. “You don’t have to tell everyone, you know? Forgive him.” Her expression went serious again. “How’s Ry?”

“Still in surgery. Valentina’s with him and promised she’d tell us something as soon as she could,” said the big man standing in the corner. He wore the same navy blue uniform as the others. The serious expression on his face softened as he approached. “I’m Beau Fontaine.”

Isla nodded, shaking the man’s hand.

“I … I just wanted to see that Ry was okay.” Half of her still wanted to run, but she stood her ground.

“I’m glad you’re here, Isla,” Alex said, taking her by the arm. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the team. That’s Lorenz, and Tristan. And that there is Hugo.”

She shook all their hands in turn.

“I’m Ry’s housemate,” Hugo said, when his turn came. “Alex used to live with us as well, but he dumped us when he met Yvette,” he ribbed. “Broke the lease so quickly our heads are still spinning.”

Alex laughed. It seemed like he’d heard this before. “I apologized, okay?”

“You’re all like children,” Beau said, sighing. “I should know. I have one at home.”

“Beau’s speaking of his fourteen-year-old daughter, Ren,” Tristan clarified. “And she’s the most mature fourteen-year-old you’ll ever meet. Takes after Val.”

“You’re the team’s pilot.” It felt good to put faces to names. “I feel like I already know you all a bit,” she said, then quickly went on to clarify. “Because Ry talks about you all the time, I mean.”

At her words, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate. “We’ve heard a lot about you as well. Ry’s told us what a great artist you are?—“

“You’re an artist?” Yvette asked.

Isla blushed over her blush. “I’m a tattooist,” she said, before Yvette hired her to paint a portrait of the mayor. That had happened to her before.

“That’s so cool. Tell me more about it.” Isla knew the woman was trying to distract her—to keep her from worrying about Ry—but her interest seemed genuine, and she didn’t seem like the kind of person to fake interest in anything, so Isla started speaking, all the while keeping an eye on the door. Was Ry okay? What was taking so long?

Eventually, the door opened, and a beautiful woman in a white doctor’s coat came through. Her hair was the brightest red Isla had ever seen. If she hadn’t been so worried, Isla would have asked her where she got the color done. Her own blue streaks were starting to fade, which meant it was time to get it touched up.

“Val,” a chorus of voices said. Everyone except for Beau, who stood very still, his hands clenched into fists.

“How’s he doing, Valentina?” Was his voice trembling? What was that about?

Valentina reached over to hug him, and even though he towered over the woman, it was clear she was trying to infuse him with strength. “Dr. Barrett’s one of our best trauma surgeons. He’ll be out to talk to you soon, but the surgery went well. Ry’s waking up now.”

“Can we see him?” Alex asked.

“I can bring one or two of you in to see him, but not all of you,” she said firmly.

Isla took a step back, ready to fade into the background, but Alex was quicker. “Beau and Isla will go.”

Isla shook her head forcefully. “Ah, no. Ry and I … we’re not … I should …” All eyes turned to her. She was really botching this up, making this about her when it should be about Ry and what would make him feel safest.

The word gave her pause. She’d messed things up the last time they’d been together—messed things up badly, and hadn’t even bothered to explain. But she wanted Ry to feel safe—to wake up and know that all these people cared about him. Hell, that she cared about him.

“One of you should go,” she said weakly, looking at Alex for support, since he seemed the most approachable.

Alex laughed, his arm around Yvette. “Believe me, he’ll be a lot more interested in seeing you, than in seeing any of us.”

“Come on,” Beau said, taking Isla gently by the arm and effectively making the decision for her.

Okay, then . She’d just have to tell Ry about all these people who were out here waiting to see him.