My heart sinks when I walk into the hospital room.
Tiffany looks so small and fragile in the bed. Her face is swollen and bruised, her lip split. Tears form in my eyes at the sight of her.
Her chest moves up and down, her breaths slightly uneven, likely from the punctured lung. I notice the bruises covering her arms and any other skin peeking out from the blanket. My knees feel weak, and I grip the edge of the chair to steady myself.
“Tiff?” I whisper.
“She’s going to be okay,” says Dr. Patel, the attending physician. She’s a petite woman with sharp, thoughtful eyes. “We’ve stabilized her. It’ll take time, but she’s young and strong. She’ll recover.”
“Are you sure?” I manage to ask.
“Yes,” she replies. “She’s on the mend.”
Tiffany’s parents, Linda and Frank, are sitting by her bed. Linda grips Tiffany’s hand like she can protect her just by holding on. Frank’s broad shoulders are slumped with worry, but he stands as I enter.
“Has she said anything?” I ask Dr. Patel.
“Just a few words. The punctured lung isn’t making it easy.”
“Can I talk to her?”
She nods. “Just don’t push her too hard.”
I nod and approach Tiffany’s parents. I’ve only met them once before now, but the looks on their faces make it clear they’re both glad to see me.
“Thank you, Erin,” Linda says quietly. “We’re so thankful you were there for her and able to get her to the hospital quickly.”
I shake my head. “It’s not enough,” I whisper, looking at Tiffany’s battered face. “This is my fault. I should’ve—”
“Erin,” Frank interrupts gently but firmly. “This isn’t your fault. Don’t carry that.”
I wish I could believe him, but I feel so goddamn guilty. After all, she’s here because of me. Because Misha wanted to send me a message.
Thoughts of Misha flash through my mind, and a fresh wave of regret crashes over me. How am I supposed to explain everything to them?
I sit next to Tiffany, carefully taking the spot Linda offers me. Tiffany stirs, her eyes fluttering open for a moment. They’re hazy, her smile faint and dreamy from the pain meds.
“Sorry I was such a mess out in the lobby,” Linda says with a smile.
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” I say.
She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze as I turn my attention back to Tiffany. “Hey, Tiff,” I say softly. I reach forward and brush a few strands of stray hair from her face.
“Erin?” she whispers. Just speaking my name is hard on her. “How are you doing?”
A bitter laugh slips out. “I should be asking you that.” I pause, blinking back tears. “How are you?”
Her head tilts slightly, her eyelids already closing again. “I’m fine,” she murmurs, though her voice is barely there. “Just… hard to talk. Hard to… hard to breathe.”
“Take it easy, okay?”
She nods. “I’m so sleepy. Can barely keep my eyes open.”
“That’s the medication,” Linda explains. “The doctor says she’ll only be awake for short bursts at a time.”
I nod, swallowing hard. My eyes dart between Tiffany and her parents. “I’m so sorry. I…”
I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder. It’s Frank. “I already told you. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, kiddo. The ones who’ll be sorry are the pricks who did this to her. The cops are working on that right now.” There’s rage in his voice, barely contained.
I sigh. I know they don’t blame me, but I can’t stop blaming myself.
“Sleepy,” Tiffany says. “Really sleepy.”
As Tiffany’s breathing evens out again and she drifts off, I make a silent promise. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this—for her and for the family that doesn’t hold me responsible—even if I can’t forgive myself.
“She’ll be better when she gets home and has a chance to get some more rest,” Linda says, her eyes on her sleeping daughter.
“I’ll just be glad to get her out of that shit box apartment. She’ll be safer in Boulder with us.” Frank talks about the apartment like it’s the most horrific, disgusting thing he can think of. Then his eyes flick to me. “No offense.”
“None taken. That place isn’t exactly the Four Seasons, I know, but we did have some fun there.”
“When she’s recovered, she can move back to the city if she wants,” Frank says, though his voice doesn’t hold conviction.
“Do you want me to go to her apartment and pack her things?” I offer.
Her dad speaks up. “No need,” he says in a father-knows-best tone. “She’s got plenty of clothes and things at home. We’ll sort through her apartment later.”
I nod, my chest feeling a little tight. I hate this. I hate that Tiffany’s life might change because of some asshole trying to send me a message.
I glance at her parents, and they both look tired as hell. It’s already been a long day for them. “Why don’t you two head to your hotel?” I suggest. “Get some rest, freshen up, maybe get a quick bite to eat. I’ll stay with Tiffany.”
Linda hesitates. “Are you sure? You’ve already done so much.”
“Positive,” I say. “I’ll call you right away if anything changes, I promise.”
They exchange a look, and finally, Linda sighs and nods. “Thank you, Erin. For everything. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
I smile. “Go. She’ll be fine. I’ve got this.”
They leave, and the room falls into silence, the only sounds the steady beeping of the monitors and Tiffany’s steady breathing. I flop into the chair next to her bed, grabbing a magazine from the side table. It’s one of those gossip rags with headlines screaming about who’s dating who and what the most popular actress wore to the latest red carpet.
Normally, I’d roll my eyes and devour the drama, but right now, the words blur together on the page. My mind’s too busy racing with a million what-ifs.
A faint sound pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance up, and my heart skips a beat when I see Tiffany’s lips moving. She’s mumbling something, her face pinched with effort.
I’m out of the chair in a flash, leaning closer. “Tiffany? Hey, I’m here.”
Her swollen eyes flutter open, barely a sliver, and she mutters, “Water.”
“Got it,” I say, grabbing the cup from the side table. I hold the straw to her lips, my hand steady. “Just sip, okay? Nice and slow.”
She takes a tiny sip, her lips trembling against the straw, and my chest tightens. Her lips are cracked and split, and she can barely hold her head up. She looks so fragile and it pisses me off. This isn’t Tiffany. This is so unfair, she didn’t deserve this.
Tiffany’s hand trembles as it reaches for mine, her grip weak but insistent. I lean in closer.
“Tiff, what is it?”
Her swollen face twists with effort as she struggles to speak. “I couldn’t… talk about this… with… Mom and Dad… here.” It’s paining her to speak, and part of me wants to tell her to save it for now. But she goes on. “You’re… in danger.”
“What?” I breathe. “Tiff, what are you talking about?”
The question sounds so dumb. I know exactly what she’s talking about.
Her grip tightens slightly, surprising me. “Misha,” she whispers. “He… he told me… to give you… a message.”
Fear washes over me, freezing me in place. My mouth goes dry, and all I can manage is a quiet, “Oh my God. Tiffany, I’m so sorry.”
She shakes her head. “No,” she rasps. “Listen. You… need to… listen.”
I bite back the flood of apologies threatening to spill out and focus on her. “Okay. I’m listening.”
Her breaths are shallow, her face pale, but she doesn’t stop. “He said… he knows… where you work. Knows… you’re… shacking up… with your boss.”
The words hit me like a slap. My heart pounds, my mind racing.
“And he said…” She swallows hard, her voice faltering. “Kailee… and Erica… are next… if you don’t… pay him a visit.”
I can barely breathe. My stomach twists painfully at the mention of Kailee and Erica. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, I can’t let anything happen to th—”
“Don’t,” Tiffany interrupts. “Don’t… go to him. You… need to… warn them. Protect yourself.”
“Tiffany, I—” My voice cracks as I try to form a coherent thought, but her fingers squeeze mine, stopping me.
“Promise me,” she says, her words slow but insistent. “Promise… you won’t… go to him.”
I nod. “I promise,” I whisper. “I’ll warn Kailee and Erica. I’ll do whatever I can to protect them.”
“And yourself!” she speaks the words with too much intensity, wincing after they come out.
“And myself,” I tell her.
She lets her head fall back onto the pillow and takes a few slow breaths. My heart hurts seeing her like this.
“Good,” she says. “Good…” She closes her eyes and is asleep in seconds.
Her hand goes limp, and all I can do is sit there, staring at her as tears blur my vision. I want to scream, to cry, to hit something, but instead, I sit frozen, my mind replaying her words over and over.
Misha knows about Samuel. He’s targeting Kailee and Erica. Another wave of guilt crashes over me, threatening to drown me, but I shove it down.
This isn’t my fault.
Misha did this.
He’s the one who crossed the line, the one who’s hurting innocent people to send some stupid message. I didn’t cause this. But still, the weight of it feels unbearable.
I’m at a loss. I have no idea what to do. Part of me wants to call Samuel this very second and tell him what I’ve learned. But I know him well enough to understand what that would mean. He’d burn the city down to protect me, even if it meant putting his own life in danger.
I have no doubt that Samuel’s stronger than Misha. But Misha fights dirty.
I bury my face in my hands, my breath shaky as I try to think clearly. One thing is certain—I need to warn Kailee and Erica before Misha can get to them. But after that, I’ll need to decide if I’m ready to let Samuel in on just how deep this mess really goes.
