2. Brixton

Chapter 2

Brixton

I grip Allie’s hand tight. “You can do this. You’re so fucking strong. She’s gonna be here so soon.”

Allie screams, tears streaming down her face, remnants of eye makeup streaking her cheeks. “I can’t do this without him.”

My own tears lodge in the back of my throat, choking me slowly and tormentingly. “You can. I’m here for you. We’re gonna get through this.”

When we got to the hospital, I went to the Emergency Room with Davis while the EMTs took Allie straight up to Labor and Delivery.

I scrub a hand down the front of my face. The memory of my brother’s bloody body crushed by the metal door will haunt me forever. That sonofabitch Uber driver. I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands for taking his goddamn eyes off the road like he did. All because he was so worried about Allie giving birth in the back of his damn car.

Davis was in really bad shape. After finally getting him out of the car and into the ambulance, he crashed in the back of the ambulance. When we got to the Emergency Room and he was stable, the doctors did a CT scan and detected trauma to his liver and kidney. They took him right into an operating room because he was bleeding internally.

I’d like to think positively, that no news is good news. But no news is just fucking no news.

“Okay, Allie,” the doctor says. “She’s crowning. I need you to give me one more good push when I say.”

“I can’t do it,” Allie wails. “It hurts too much. Fuck!”

My chest tightens. Goddammit, this isn’t fair. Davis should be here right now, holding his fiancée’s hand while they welcome their baby into the world. I shouldn’t be here. It should be me lying on that fucking operating table.

“Push,” the doctor yells. “Now.”

Her screams pierce the tense air and then, seconds later, a tiny screech rings out.

She’s here. And her dad isn’t.

The doctor sits back and smiles when the baby cries out again, this time even louder than the first time. “She’s got a good set of pipes, that’s for sure.”

Allie sobs. “Just like her Uncle Rock Star.”

I hug her and she clings to me, her whole body quaking with grief.

“Do you want to meet your daughter?” One of the nurses walks over to Allie and holds out a freshly cleaned baby wrapped in a blue and pink striped blanket.

“She’s beautiful,” I whisper.

“I know. Davis needs to see her.” She looks up at me. “Has anyone called or texted you? Is he out of surgery?”

I shake my head. I’ve only checked my phone about a million times since I rushed to Labor and Delivery and I haven’t heard dick from them.

As Allie cuddles the baby a while later, I pace back and forth in front of the hospital bed, fisting the sides of my hair. “When the fuck are they gonna tell us something? It’s been hours.”

“Just go to him. I’ll be fine.” She struggles to smile at me. “But you’d better call me as soon as you hear anything.”

I drop a kiss on the top of her head and smile at my niece before taking a quick picture of them both with my phone. “What are you gonna call her?”

“We hadn’t decided for sure.” Allie’s voice cracks again. “I don’t want to decide by myself. I can’t.”

I nod. “Got it. So Gorgeous Girl it is until Dad’s out of surgery.”

My heart clenches with those words.

He has to be okay. He needs to meet his daughter, to be the amazing dad he was meant to be.

I sweep a hand through my hair, ignoring the chill that slips down my spine. Something doesn’t feel right, and an urgency to get back to my brother grips me. “I’ll be back.”

With my phone in my hand, I run back to the Emergency wing, stopping short at the nurses’ station. A few heads turn my way, recognition in their eyes like a clanging alarm bell between my temples because the last thing I want is to talk to anyone but the people who have control over my brother’s life right now.

“You guys never called. I want a status on Davis Scott.”

The nurses exchange a look and one of them comes out from behind the desk. “He’s in recovery right now. We were about to call you.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Thank God.”

“There was a fair amount of damage, but the doctors worked quickly and were able to stop the bleeding. He should be waking up soon.” She flashes a shy smile. “He’ll be in good shape for your next concert.”

“Yeah. Great.”

I don’t mean to be a dick, and I definitely don’t miss the sting of rejection that flashes across her face, but I’m not in the mood to acknowledge anything beyond my brother’s prognosis at this moment.

Following the nurse to recovery, I shoot off a quick text to Allie, letting her know Davis is all good.

I’ve never felt so relieved in my life. Davis is my best friend, and the only one who remotely came close to being a father to me, even though my real one was never too far away physically. But mentally and emotionally? He might as well have been on another planet.

The nurse pushes open the curtain and my heart jumps into my throat when I see my brother’s pale face against the stark white bedsheets.

Jesus. A wave of fear rushes over me.

He looks…

No, I can’t even think the fucking word.

And then, as if he senses my panic, his eyes open a crack. I push past the nurse and run over to the bed.

“How do you feel?”

“Forget me. I need to know about Allie and the baby.”

I pull out my phone to show him the picture I took.

His eyes well up. “My girls. They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, well, you need to hurry up and get better so you can pick out a name for the baby. Allie won’t do it alone.” I grin. “I’m going with Gorgeous Girl until you decide.”

Davis smiles weakly and shifts on the bed.

The nurse busies herself taking his vitals and checking the IV levels. “Be careful not to move too much, sweetie. You don’t want to tear the stitches, and you’re still too numb right now to feel much. ”

“Hey,” Davis croaks, nodding his head at me. “My baby bro here is a rock star. Did you know that?”

She winks at me. “He’s all the nurses can talk about right now.”

Exactly my point about why an openly gay front man just doesn’t sell as well.

My phone vibrates. I click to accept the call from Allie and hold it up to Davis’s face so he can see his daughter for the first time.

There are a lot of tears and sob-choked words exchanged, but the light that brightens up Davis’s face when he sees his baby girl live for the first time…shit, I’ll never forget it.

“What should we name her?” Allie asks with a sniffle.

“You love Julianna. Let’s go with that.”

I sneak a look at Allie’s face. She smiles. “Okay. Julianna it is.”

“I still like Gorgeous Girl,” I pipe in.

After a few more minutes of cooing at Julianna, Davis settles back on his pillow. “I’ll see you both really soon,” he says, his voice strained. “I…love you.”

Then he clicks to end the call and hands me my phone.

A flicker of pain darkens his face, erasing the light I’d seen the whole time he was on the phone. I swallow hard. “D, what’s wrong? I thought you were numb?”

He lets out a tired laugh. “The incision site is numb, but the rest of me feels like it was run over by a Mack truck. Don’t worry. They said I’m good. Now, go. Take care of my girls. They need you more than I do.”

Davis drops his hand on top of mine. “And call Dad. Let him know about Julianna. Send him the picture.”

A chill slips down my spine. “You’re sure you want me to go?”

Davis nods. “You’ve got things to do while I recover down here. And you’d better make sure you give Julianna music lessons and singing lessons so she can be a big star one day, just like her Uncle Rock Star.”

“You’ll be there to hold me to it,” I say, my voice cracking. Panic wrenches my gut as I stare at my brother.

His face relaxes into a real smile, for the first time since he’s been here, and my shoulders relax as spots of color creep back into his cheeks. I let out a shaky breath.

“Stop looking at me like I’m dying. I told you, I’m fine. So get back to the girls. Give my baby Jules kisses for me.”

“Okay,” I say after a long pause. “The nurses have my number in case of anything. Just make sure they call if you need anything. I’ll be back in a little while…as long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

He says the words but they don’t unravel the knot in my chest. I stand there, shifting my weight between my feet, scouring the bleeping machines as if they’ll give me a clear sign to either stay or go.

The nurse returns and checks on Davis’s vitals again. “Things are stable, which is good. But you need to rest.” With a pointed look at me, I throw my hands in the air.

I guess that’s my sign.

“I’m leaving, don’t worry. Just call me if anything changes.”

“It won’t,” Davis says. “Take care of Allie. Maybe find her some kind of Hostess cake in the cafeteria. She loves that poisonous crap. Lived on Hostess for the past eight months.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I give his hand a squeeze. “See you later.”

“See you,” he echoes.

I walk out of the room, the events of the night finally catching up to me and wallpapering my brain. So much excitement and anticipation followed by even more terror and angst. Raking a hand through my hair, I pass by the chapel on my way to the elevators.

I’ve never been overly religious. Not really even remotely religious, if I’m being honest. But something makes me push open the wooden door and step inside of the darkened space. The strong scent of incense is heavy in the air. It clogs my throat to the point where I can barely breathe through it.

Stepping inside, my eyes adjust to the dim gold and orange light. Rows of candles glow along the sides of the chapel and a large crucifix hangs on the wall opposite me. I swallow hard, clenching and unclenching my fingers. I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans and look around at the empty pews in front of me.

Do I sit down? Light a candle? Kneel at the altar?

I have no idea what to do but somehow, just being here makes me feel like I’m doing something to help my brother.

“If you don’t know what to do, just light a candle and say a prayer.”

I jump and twist around toward the intruding voice. A dark figure hunches over the top of the pew with his hands folded. His head rests on top of them, a spill of dark hair falling over his eyes that stare straight in front of him. Squinting in the darkness, a flicker of recognition registers in my brain.

Sam Hartley. Tight end for the Oakland Saints. Hot as fuck and built like a brick shithouse.

Crap, am I allowed to think those things in the presence of God? I mean, let’s face it, God created him so he knows it’s all true. He can’t hold it against me.

“Thanks.” I guess I give off amateur religious vibes. Taking a few slow steps toward one of the rows of candles, I cast another glance at Sam. His broad, muscular upper body is stiff, jaw tight and tensed.

I fish out a match and hold it to one of the flickering flames, igniting the tip. Then I choose a candle in the top row and hold it to the wick until it flares. I blow out the match and stick it with the other extinguished ones.

Say a prayer.

I watch the candle burn for a few long seconds, waiting for some sense of peace to wash over me. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? Some feeling that everything is going to be okay because God’s on your side?

“If you’re waiting for some magic to happen, it won’t.”

That voice again.

But damn, it’s like he can read my mind. I’ve heard him speak in interviews and he sounds like a pretty smart and well-educated guy. But maybe he’s got psychic powers besides all the superpowers he displays on the football field.

Still, my spine tenses. I turn around and look at him.

“I appreciate the chapel tutoring session, but I’m good.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “If you were good, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Maybe I’m just thankful.” My pulse throbs against the side of my throat because his words hit me with the force of a hammer to my chest.

“Or maybe you’re just covering your bases.” He rises from the kneeler and sits back in the pew. With a sweep of his hand, he pushes the hair out of his eyes, slicking it back to expose the tormented expression on his face. “But either way, it won’t matter. No matter how many prayers you say, candles you light, or good karma you command, none of it will change God’s plan.” He hangs his head. “And it really fucking sucks.”

“I, ah, didn’t think we were allowed to curse in here.”

Sam lifts his tortured gaze to mine. “I don’t think it can make things any worse at this point.”

“I was in a bad car accident tonight while we were trying to get my brother’s fiancée to the hospital. She went into labor after a concert. My brother was hurt pretty badly and needed surgery. But he’s out now and things are looking good. Plus, he’s got a brand-new baby girl to meet.”

I step into a pew a few rows in front of him and sink onto the bench. “I came here after leaving his room just to say thanks, I guess.”

Sam narrows his eyes at me. “You’re Brixton Scott, right? Sin City? I’ve seen you guys play in LA.”

I nod. “Yeah. We were at the Sun Arena. Fucking Uber driver was more concerned about Allie giving birth in his backseat than getting us to the hospital in one piece.”

A hint of a smile lifts Sam’s lips. “You just cursed.”

“You said it was okay.” I shrug. “And you seem to be more of an expert than me with this stuff, so…”

“I said it wouldn’t make things any worse,” he corrects. A deep sigh shudders his shoulders and he reclines against the back of the pew.

“Why are you here?”

“My brother. He’s been sick for a long time. It’s bad. He’s terminal. And I’ve spent more time in this chapel than you can imagine over the past couple of years.” He stares down at his hands. “We thought things would get better, but he’s just gotten weaker and weaker. This afternoon, he took a nosedive. The doctors told us it’s the end.”

“That explains why the media was all over you after this afternoon’s game.” He slowly lifts his head and stares at me. “Yeah, I know who you are, too.”

He holds my curious gaze. “Today wasn’t one of my shining moments, that’s for sure. My head wasn’t in it at all. I’d just gotten the call right before kickoff, and the game pretty much ended before it started for me.”

“So why’d you come here, then? Praying for a miracle?”

With a look around, his face hardens. “Nah. Not anymore. Now I’m just praying that he’s not in any more pain. That he can go peacefully. That my family and I can figure out how to pick up the pieces when he’s gone.” Sam’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and I have the sudden urge to wrap my arms around him.

He’s such a huge force in the NFL. A star rookie turned league superstar after only a few short years. But he sits here in front of me now, powerful, strong, and completely broken at the same time.

My heart clenches.

It could be me saying those very same things if the situation was different and if Davis hadn’t come out of the surgery successfully.

“I’m really sorry about your brother.” I finally find the words and he smiles.

“Thanks. I’m glad your brother is going to be okay.” He stretches his arms over his head, the arms of his suit jacket hugging the muscles. I swallow hard and drag my eyes away from him.

Suddenly, I feel like I’m intruding on his space. I rise from the pew and back away, part of me resisting the movement because in all honesty, I want to stay. He gazes at me, sadness and resignation pooling in his dark eyes.

My fingers itch to trace over the lines of his jaw, my lips tingle with the urge to taste his.

Seriously?

I ball my fingers into a fist.

Jesus, I need to get out of here. I can’t have these thoughts…in here, of all places…about a guy who’s about to lose his brother to some horrible disease.

Our eyes lock.

My brain short-circuits and I struggle to find parting words, mainly because I don’t want to part.

“Um, good luck with…uh, the rest of the season.”

The guy needs to grieve alone. He doesn’t want me in there interrupting his spiritual flow.

Sam watches me as I practically trip over my feet to get through the door. I can feel the heat of his stare singe my skin through all the layers of clothing. My breath hitches when the door closes. I stand in the hallway, the stark white walls suddenly cold and void of compassion.

With a thumping heart, I grab my buzzing phone from my pocket.

Mercy Hospital flashes across the screen. I stab the Accept button.

“Hello?”

Blood rushes between my ears, flowing so forcefully, I almost can’t hear a response.

“Mr. Scott,” a female voice says in a no-nonsense tone. “We need you to come to Recovery on the second floor as soon as possible.”

I don’t say a word. I just run to the elevator. The doors open and I dart down the hallway, searching for signs pointing to Recovery.

“Mr. Scott!”

I stop short and whirl around, coming face to face with the nurse who’d been in here before. A tall man in a white coat next to her walks toward me.

“Mr. Scott, there was a complication with your brother’s surgery.”

My mind swims with frenzied thoughts, terror snaking through my insides as snippets of words pierce my heart.

No…no…no.

White noise consumes the space around me and I can hear his voice through the muffled cloud.

“…shard of glass…punctured an artery…couldn’t stop the bleeding…”

Breaths come in short and sharp gasps, slicing at my throat.

“Take care of my girls. They need you right now.”

Fuck. He knew something wasn’t right.

He made me leave because he needed to make sure Allie and the baby were protected, that I’d be with them when they heard the news.

When Davis said goodbye, he meant it.

And now he’s gone forever.