Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

I’d just finished typing up tomorrow’s to-do list when Sabrina poked her head into my office. “I’m leaving now,” she told me. “I just wanted to first let you know that Mr. Rickman is still giving me excuses about his outstanding payments.”

A sigh of annoyance slipped out of me. “You finally managed to get him on the phone? Kudos.” We’d invoiced him three weeks ago, but he was still dicking around. “What reason did he give for having not coughed up the cash, even though it’s now mid-October?”

“The gist of the conversation was … it’s all a big mix-up—and no, he didn’t elaborate on what exactly that meant, despite that it didn’t actually explain anything—but it would be great if we could just go ahead with the event anyway and he’d pay us at a later date.”

On occasion, clients would try convincing us to allow them to pay off the full amount after the event. If there were extenuating circumstances, we agreed. But not always, because there were times said clients would keep on delaying it in the hope that we dropped it. Then we had to take legal action, and that was both costly and messy. “What did you say?”

“I told him that would only happen if he could get you to agree to it, so he’d need to call you directly because I wouldn’t be passing on that message for him. He made a few mutterings and then eventually promised he’d settle the payments by the end of tomorrow.” Her mouth curved. “You scare him.”

I let out a delicate snort. “I don’t know why. I’m a delight.”

“You are. You’re also a take-no-shit person, which means you scare people like him who like to toss out shit. They know they can’t manipulate you. Plus, you’re Dax Mercier’s wife now. That bumps up the fear factor.”

“Hmm, well, if he pays tomorrow, great. If not, we’ll be pulling out of the event.” Yawning, I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Any other issues?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I need to unplug.” I’d had way too much screen time today, and I was feeling the sting of it. Literally. My eyes were dry and stinging like a bitch. “I could really do with a nap.” And some eye drops.

Sabrina’s brow pinched. “Do you have time to take one before you meet Dax’s family at the restaurant?”

“No, but I’ll be fine.” To celebrate the birthday of his godmother, Sarah, Kensey had organized a celebratory meal. As Dax’s wife, I was invited.

“Well, enjoy your dinner,” said Sabrina. “And wear the little black dress you bought when we went shopping last weekend.”

“That’s my plan.” Unless Dax requested that I allow him to choose my outfit for the evening, though I doubted he would.

He’d done it twice more since the morning Lowe had appeared at our villa. And I’d noticed a pattern. It only happened on non-work days, and only if we would be spending pretty much the entire day apart. Which didn’t clue me in as to Dax’s motivation. And neither did he, knowing his evasiveness frustrated me.

Sabrina flashed me a farewell smile. “See you tomorrow, bright and early.”

I waved. “Tomorrow.” Turning back to my laptop, I quickly skimmed through my emails, ensured there was nothing time-sensitive, and then made a mental note to respond to them tomorrow before switching off the device.

As I gathered all my stuff together, I reminded myself to wrap Sarah’s gifts when I got home. I’d meant to do it last night but had forgotten.

A month ago, I would have predicted there’d be a weird vibe at the restaurant table, given Blake had reservations about my marriage to Dax. But for the past few weeks, Blake had behaved differently toward me. He spoke to me with genuine warmth.

I wasn’t sure why, or if it was caused by anything in particular. But his politeness wasn’t forced, and his queries about my life weren’t mere attempts at civility. Maybe he’d decided to simply make his peace with the situation. Or maybe it was somehow connected to my having given Dax a false alibi—I had no clue; wasn’t sure Blake even knew about that.

I couldn’t say that my own father had let his reservations drop. However, he’d been less frosty toward Dax on the past few occasions they’d been in the same room. Dane was still a little standoffish, but nowhere near as rude. I was glad of it, because my protectiveness toward Dax had grown.

There had been a subtle shift in our dynamics. A lessening of self-protective tension on his part. As if he—or his subconscious, maybe—no longer viewed me as a threat so wasn’t braced for rejection or betrayal. There was an ease between us now that hadn’t been there before.

Oh, Dax was still as guarded as ever. That would never change—the trait was woven into the fabric of his personality. But I didn’t feel that there was an abyss between us nowadays. More like a moat.

A moat was fine. I might never cross it, might never be someone he cared for, might never bypass his mental barriers, but I didn’t need him to expose so much of himself to me. I just wanted us to be friends. That was exactly what we were.

We still didn’t venture out together unless it was a group event, like to one of Drey’s games or a family meal. But our conversations didn’t feel in any way forced. Our interest in each other’s routine and goings-on was real.

We talked. Teased. Shared. The air of remoteness that had originally existed between us had slowly but surely fizzled out. So, yeah, everything was going well.

This was made better by how we’d had three weeks of pure peace. No more bullshit from Felicity, Grayden, or Blaise. And aside from the apologetic text she’d sent to Dax the morning after her last stunt—a text within which she’d also assured him that she’d never sell any stories about him to the media—there’d been no more peeps out of Mimi.

Ready to leave, I locked my office, said my goodbyes to the members of my team who hadn’t yet left their desks, and then took the elevator down to the first floor.

As I was crossing the lobby, my phone began to chime. Halting, I dug a hand into my purse and whipped out my cell. Mom. Feeling my lips soften into a smile, I greeted, “Hey Mom, what’s up?”

A shaky breath traveled down the line. “Addie, don’t panic; hear me out all the way.”

I went motionless, my gut clenching. “What’s happened?”

She hesitated. “Wyatt’s in hospital. We think he had a heart attack.” Her voice broke on the latter words.

I all but flew out of the building as dread gripped me in its jaws. “What hospital?”

“St. Erin’s.”

“I’ll meet you there,” I told her as I ran for the parking lot, my pace restricted by my goddamn high heels.

“You don’t need to come all the way up here; I can keep you updated.”

Fuck that. “I’m on my way. Text me where exactly you’re at.” The hospital was huge. “I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and dialed Dax’s number, tearing across the parking lot like my ass was on fire.

“Yes?” he answered.

“I’m sorry but you’ll need to head to Sarah’s birthday meal without me,” I said, my words a little breathy and choppy.

A brief pause. “What’s wrong?” His voice was hard and cautious.

“Wyatt had a heart attack. Or that’s what my mom suspects—she doesn’t know for sure yet.” Finally reaching my car, I unlocked it with the key fob. “I’m heading to St. Erin’s now.”

A low curse sounded. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to think the worst. People can have chest pains for other reasons.”

“I know, but it’s hard not to panic.” Having tossed my purse and satchel on the passenger seat, I hopped into the car and switched on the engine. “I’ll text you when I know more. I have to go.”

“Don’t drive too fast, Addison. Be safe.”

I blinked, surprised by the vehemency in his voice. “I will.” I ended the call, dumped my cell in the cupholder, and reversed out of my spot.

I took deep, controlled breaths as I drove, adrenaline pulsing around my system. Wyatt had had a few health issues over the years, but nothing too serious. I’d never worried much. To me, he’d always been larger than life; too strong for anything to take him down. Hearing he could have potentially had a heart attack wiped away that comforting delusion.

I knew my siblings would find this just as rough. He wasn’t a grandfather who’d clicked more with one grandchild than the others. He had the same tight, close relationship with all of us. It was horrible to think that we could lose him.

I finally reached the hospital, but it took several minutes of scouring the attached lot before I found a space to park. Exiting the vehicle, I made a swift beeline for the building, panic fluttering in my belly like a thousand butterflies. Using the directions my mother had texted me, I made my way to a particular private waiting room, passing shops and cafés and various units and wards as I navigated the maze of hallways.

Shoving open the door to the glassed-in room, I found my mom, Alicia, Harri, and Melinda all sat around looking varying degrees of anxious. They stood when I crossed to them, and I quickly hugged all four women.

“How is he?” I asked no one in particular.

“We’re not sure yet.” Melinda dabbed her red nose with a scrunched-up tissue and slumped back into her seat. “No doctors have come out to give us any news yet.”

I glanced around. “Where’s Dad?”

“New York,” Vienna replied as she returned to her seat beside Melinda, who immediately clasped her hand tight.

“Business trip?” I guessed.

My mom nodded. “Ollie’s with him. I let them know what happened. They’re going to fly home today.”

Alicia sank into the chair on the other side of our grandmother. “Ollie gave us strict instructions not to mention it to Marleigh until we have answers. He’s right that it’s for the best.”

Harri nodded, retaking her seat. “She’ll only worry. She adores Wyatt as much as we do.”

“So, what happened with him exactly?” I sat beside my baby sister. “Was he doing anything strenuous?”

Melinda gave her head a slow shake. “He was arguing with our neighbor again. It got real heated. Next thing I know—” She broke off, and her eyes welled up. “I need to hear he’s okay. He has to be okay.”

“He will be,” Harri declared. “Wyatt is strong as an ox. No, stronger.”

Vienna gave a clipped nod. “He’ll be fine.” She spoke with utter conviction, but I heard the tremble of fear there.

“He better be,” muttered Alicia, her legs crossed, the foot on the floor bouncing like crazy and making both her thighs jump. “If he isn’t, I’ll … well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be something he doesn’t like.”

A reluctant, tremulous smile plucked at Melinda’s mouth.

Spotting both a water fountain and a coffee machine in the far corner of the large space, I asked, “Does anyone want coffee or water?”

Both Vienna and Melinda requested the first while Alicia ordered the latter.

“I’ll help you with the drinks,” offered Harri, rubbing her hands on her thighs.

I offered her a grateful smile. “Thanks.” As we walked away, I cast her a probing look. “Are you okay?”

She idly traced her eyebrow. “To be honest, I haven’t properly processed what’s happening yet.”

I gave her arm a gentle, comforting squeeze. “Does Simon know about it?”

She shook her head. “Mom’s going to call him after she hears from the doctor and knows what’s what.”

That was probably best. “Did anyone call Heather?” I asked, referring to Melinda and Wyatt’s daughter. A woman I’d never called “Aunt,” because she was nothing close to it—hadn’t ever tried to be.

“Melinda did.” Harri’s nose wrinkled. “Mom overheard the call. Apparently, Heather didn’t seem too concerned but promised she’d ‘make an appearance.’ Her words.”

I shook my head. “I don’t buy for a moment that Heather’s not all that bothered.” She loved Wyatt, but their relationship was strained due to her stubborn belief that he favored Vienna over her.

Heather was also convinced that Melinda cared more for Vienna as well. No amount of reassurances from her parents had made a difference—Heather firmly upheld that they played favorites, and she made them pay for it in small ways.

“Neither do I,” said Harri as she plucked a disposable cup from the top of the water fountain. “But you know how she is. I called Junior to let him know what was happening,” she added, referring to Heather’s son—he’d moved to England eight years ago. “He’s going to catch a flight over here as soon as he can. I promised I’d keep him in the loop until then.”

“Wyatt will be thrilled to see him.” We all would. Our oldest cousin was nothing like his mother.

Harri filled the cup at the water fountain while I prepped the coffees at the nearby dispenser. We then returned to the others and distributed the drinks.

I was just about to sit down when the door to the waiting room swung open behind me. I turned, hoping to see a doctor, desperate for news on Wyatt. It wasn’t a doctor, but disappointment didn’t spike through my blood. Because it was Dax.

Surprised, I could only stare as he made a beeline for me—his every step smooth, purposeful, swift. He didn’t stop until the fronts of our bodies touched. He palmed the side of my face, his striking eyes carefully drinking in my expression. And then that same hand crept around to palm the back of my head as he tucked it beneath his chin. His other arm slid up my back at a diagonal angle, sweeping me into a secure hug.

A hug.

He was hugging me.

His hold was protective. Comforting. Steadying. And my tension bled out of me even as I felt an expanding sensation in my chest.

“You’re here,” I whispered around a thick throat.

He dipped his head and placed his lips near my ear. “Of course I’m here.”

I fisted the sides of his shirt. Maybe I should have expected him to come—friends were there for friends—but I hadn’t. Nor had I expected him to curve his body around me this way.

I wasn’t sure why, but hot tears stung my eyes. I closed them, pulling in a long breath through my nose. He was as solid and unwavering as an old oak tree—exactly what I needed right now.

“Any word on Wyatt?” he asked.

“Not yet.” I pulled back enough to meet his gaze as a thought struck me. “How did you know where to find us?”

“I have my ways.” Letting his arms slip away from me—I refused to acknowledge how disappointed that made me—he fished his phone out of his pocket. “Give me a minute.” He then strode to the corner and put his cell to his ear.

Alicia looked up at me, her brow wrinkled. “Who’s he calling?”

I shrugged. “He didn’t say. Possibly his mom or dad.” Taking the seat opposite her, I put my hand to my stomach—the damn thing kept seizing and rolling. It didn’t help that I was surrounded by the not-so-nice scents of antiseptic, iodine, stale air, and bad coffee. “We were supposed to attend a celebratory dinner for his godmother’s birthday.”

Melinda’s lips parted. “You didn’t have to cancel. We could have contacted you with news once we had it.”

“I want to be here,” I stressed. “Plus, there’s no way I could sit and enjoy a meal right now. And my mind would have been on Wyatt anyway.”

Melinda’s gaze settled on Dax, who was still talking on his phone. “He didn’t attend the meal without you,” she noted.

“No, he didn’t,” I agreed with no small amount of wonder.

“I can see you’re surprised he showed up here,” she said, the smile she gifted me a little strained around the edges.

“I’m not at all surprised,” my mom claimed, fingering the butterfly pendant dangling from her gold necklace. “By nature, Dax is a man who’s there for those who need him.”

She was right, of course. I’d likely done him a disservice by being so taken off-guard by his presence. In my defense, he hadn’t given me any hint that he’d meet me here when I’d spoken to him over the phone. Maybe he’d just assumed I’d know he’d come.

My gaze jumped to the door as it opened once more. I felt my lips flatten. Again, it wasn’t a doctor. It also wasn’t someone who I enjoyed being around.

Heather stormed over to us and set her hands on her narrow hips. “So, where is he?” she asked … like she expected him to be sitting right here.

Melinda stood and pulled her daughter into an awkward hug. “With the doctors. We’re still waiting on news.” She retook her seat, exhaling a shaky breath.

Heather scanned each of our faces. “I don’t know why you’re all looking so worried. Two of my exes who swore they were having heart attacks actually had a bad case of indigestion. That’s probably all this is.” She settled her gaze on her mother. “Dad doesn’t have a weak heart.”

“I keep reminding myself of that.” Melinda twirled her wedding band. “I keep telling myself it could be nothing.”

Heather swiped Vienna’s drink from her hand and took a sip. She balked, her face scrunching up, and spit the coffee back into the cup. “Ew. That’s disgusting.”

I felt my jaw clench. The coffee could have tasted like fucking ambrosia and Heather would have done the same damn thing. Why? To fuck with my mom.

I didn’t know the full history of what had gone on between them when they were kids, but I was aware that Heather—not impressed by having a foster sister—had somewhat physically abused her back then. As adults, neither woman had any tolerance or time for the other.

My mom made an effort to be civil with her for Melinda and Wyatt’s sake, and Heather refrained from causing scenes out of fear of what my dad would do—he’d interfered in her life once or twice in the past for upsetting Vienna. But that weak level of civility was as good as it got between them. And if Heather felt she could get away with passive-aggressively poking at my mom, she would.

The bitch actually tried giving the coffee back to Vienna, not fighting a smirk.

My mom steadily stared at her, her face blank—the woman was a pro at hiding her emotions. “Nah, you keep it.”

I turned my head as my peripheral vision caught movement. Dax was making his way back to me, pocketing his phone.

“The doctors gave Wyatt a physical exam,” Dax announced to us, “and now he’s currently undergoing some tests—they’ve made no definitive diagnosis yet.”

I blinked, my head tilting. “How do you know?”

He gave an easy shrug. “I make regular donations to the hospital.”

“Well, hello there,” Heather practically purred. “I didn’t notice you. What a terrible oversight on my part.”

I flicked the ceiling a quick glance. She was the biggest and most cringe-worthy flirt to have ever existed. “Dax, this is Heather, my mom’s foster sister.”

“Melinda and Wyatt’s biological daughter,” Heather felt the need to add, saying it as though it meant she was the only daughter that counted.

I didn’t miss the eye roll my mom exchanged with Harri.

“And you’re Dax Mercier. Addison’s husband, right? Such a shame I wasn’t invited to the wedding,” said Heather with a pout, a tang of bitterness to her words.

I hadn’t invited her because she was a fucking idiot. No one had argued that I should, not even her parents. They loved her, but they weren’t blind to her nature.

Dax didn’t greet Heather. Or hold out his hand. Or nod her way. Or anything.

She pointed one slender, long-nailed finger at him. “You know, I met your dad a time or two.”

She’d probably tried her hand at seducing Blake as well. Heather only ever showed interest in men who were married. She’d been married herself twice, but both her exes were committed to someone else when she first met them.

“You look a lot like him, but you have your mom’s eyes,” Heather told him, a dark curve to her lips. “Buchanan eyes.”

I tensed at the verbal stab—it was a cruel reminder of his connection to a man who’d taken advantage of his grandmother and disowned his mom. “Don’t,” I told her, my voice hard. “Don’t go there.”

She lifted her hands, humor lighting her face. “My apologies. I didn’t know he’d be so sensitive.”

Melinda’s eyes fell shut. “Heather, please sit down and just …”

“Not talk?” Heather supplied.

Works for me.

“Not make comments that might hurt or provoke others,” Melinda corrected. “Have you spoken to Junior at all?”

Heather looked as though she’d fight the change of subject, but then she sighed and said, “Yes, I called him a little while ago.” She gracefully sank into a seat. “He said Harri had already given him the news about Dad. He’s planning to fly over and see him.”

Dax claimed the chair beside mine and checked his watch.

I leaned into him. “You don’t have to stay,” I said, keeping my voice too quiet to carry to the others. “I mean, I’m glad you’re here. But I know you won’t want to miss Sarah’s birthday meal.”

His brow puckered for the briefest moment. “I’m staying.” He splayed his hand on my thigh—a statement, a reassurance. “She’ll understand. She wouldn’t expect me to be anywhere else but here.”

I stared down at his hand. Now that we were officially friends, his casual touches weren’t quite as rare. Still, there was never any feeling behind them.

Light strokes, brief pats, gentle squeezes, warm hugs … those things anchored you. Reassured you. Soothed you. They were a way of—for lack of a better term—touching base, I supposed. A way of nonverbally checking in.

Not for Dax.

He just didn’t do that stuff—not with friends, not with family, not with anyone. I was used to it. What I wasn’t used to was it in any way bothering me.

I wasn’t sure how, why, or when it happened. I wasn’t sure if it was something that had come on gradually or if it simply sprang up on me over the past week. Whatever the case, I had lately begun to really feel the absence of such casual touch between us. I’d somehow reached a point where it had started to bug me a little.

And so, as I gazed down at the hand he’d rested on my thigh, I liked it more than I should.

Maybe it was simply that, unlike him, I was a tactile person. Maybe it wasn’t really about Dax at all. Maybe I just lamented that we didn’t have that kind of friendship. Either way, I was not a fan of how much it affected me.

“Well, Vienna,” began Heather, pulling me out of my ruminations, “you must be thrilled that your eldest went and found herself a rich-ass husband just like her momma.”

Her back ramrod straight, Vienna skewed her with a vacant stare. I could sense it was taking everything she had to not tell the bitch to shut right up. If it wasn’t for Melinda’s presence, she’d have already done so.

Heather examined her nails. “I personally don’t think I’d be so proud, in your shoes. Did you know Dax owns a strip club?”

Surprise flickered across Vienna’s face.

Grinning, Heather sliced her gaze to me. “Did you know?”

“I know he used to own one, yes.” He’d sold it years ago—Brooks briefly mentioned it to me back then. “Though I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

Her grin shrunk slightly. “You sure the club changed owners? Because that’s not what I heard.”

Dax ever so slowly leaned forward, pinning her with a lethal glare that made her tense. “I don’t know what gave you the impression that I’ll tolerate you attempting to play mind games with my wife,” he said, his words soft and slow and exuding danger, “but it stops now. Right fucking now.”

Heather pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing.

Apparently satisfied, Dax sank back into his seat and draped his arm over the back of my chair. The move was as protective as his tone of voice had been, and it made my chest go all gooey.

I leaned into him again and whispered, “This is why I didn’t invite her to our wedding.”

He let out a quiet grunt.

Silence fell as we continued to wait for a doctor to arrive. To pass the time, I alternated from reading the posters tacked on the otherwise plain walls to reading the subtitles on the muted wall-mounted TV. I also watched through the windows as people walked along the corridors beyond the waiting room—some dressed in scrubs or uniforms, some in standard clothing, others shuffling along in hospital gowns while holding IVs.

Aside from the ever-composed Dax, we were all on pins—tapping our feet, swirling our ankles, biting our lips, furtively eyeing the door. Even Heather, though she took pains to instead look bored by scrolling through her phone, was quite clearly restless.

Harri reached back to restlessly tug at her ponytail. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” She stood, hooking her purse strap over her shoulder. It was right then that the door opened.

As a middle-aged guy in a white jacket breezed inside, we all stood. He confirmed our worst fear: Wyatt had, in fact, had a heart attack. Fortunately, surgery wasn’t required—the clot-dissolving medication they administered had worked. However, he’d need to stay overnight for observation.

Inhaling deeply, I let the relief that Wyatt was stable sink in—absorbed it, processed it, fucking relished it.

Melinda’s false “I’m okay” front crumpled with what seemed to be the same relief I felt. “Can I see him?” she pled.

“He can have visitors, but only two at a time,” the doctor replied.

“Me and Mom should go first,” Heather announced. “It’s us he’ll most want to see.”

Vienna gave a subtle eye roll. “Good idea. You two go on.”

When the doctors and two women left, I sighed at Dax. “Never a dull moment with Heather.”

“Every family has one,” said Alicia.

By the time it was my turn to go see Wyatt, he’d fallen asleep. My chest tightened at the sight of him pale and linked to beeping machines. Never had I seen him look fragile. Not until right then. It scared the shit out of me.

When I eventually returned to the waiting room, Melinda looked from me to Alicia to Harri as she said, “You all head on home. I’ll text you with any updates.”

Alicia frowned, her shoulders stiffening. “But—”

“I’m leaving, too,” Vienna told my sister, as if to ease any guilt she might feel. “I need to pick up some things for Melinda and Wyatt.”

Which was something Heather could have done so that my mom could have stayed, but it seemed the woman had already left.

I gave Melinda a hug. “Call me if you need anything.”

She smoothed a hand down her blouse, her eyes sad. “Thanks, honey. I will.”

Dax cupped my elbow. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

We all walked out together, only dispersing when we reached the parking lot. When he began guiding me to his vehicle, I dug in my heels and pointed at the opposite end of the lot as I spoke, “My car is over—”

“I’ll have Caelan come get it and drive it back to our villa,” Dax told me. “You can ride with me.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I disagree. I don’t want you driving right now.” He gave my wrist a light squeeze. “Let me take you home.”

I swallowed. “Okay.” I allowed him to continue leading me to his car. “Thank you for coming. And for staying.”

His face firmed. “You don’t need to thank me. You said you’d be at my side when shit went down, right? What makes you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?”