Chapter 16: The Worst

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Melissa

Lane is on his knees at Derek’s long dining room table eating mac and cheese while Elaine sits beside him holding a glass of white wine.

“I hate waiting,” she grumbles, picking up a stray noodle that escaped onto the mahogany surface.

I can’t help smiling at how a child changes the tone of Derek’s single-male penthouse condo. A line of trucks is on the floor in the living room in front of the gigantic flat-screen television that’s paused on a little-boy building show.

“At least we’re all together,” I exhale, wishing Dex were here instead of with my mom back in Wilmington. “If you hadn’t made the drive, I’d be bouncing off the walls.”

“You could’ve gone to the office to wait with Patrick.”

“Even worse!” I cry, dropping into one of the leather armless chairs arranged around the dark-wood table. “It’s nothing but reminders of what’s happening.”

“Did Kenny say she was driving up?” Leaning forward, I pick up the wine bottle and pour myself a glass.

“She and Slayde had to finish with clients at the gym, and then they were picking up Mariska at her place.” She glances up at the clock. “It only takes half an hour to drive here from Bayville.”

I resist the urge to chug my glass of wine, and instead, I’m out of my chair again, pacing the room. “What can we do, Lainey? I’m about to go crazy.”

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Not really.” Chewing my lip, I walk to the windows and look out on the spring afternoon.

Stuart and Marcus had an eleven o’clock meeting with the prosecutor this morning, and from there they said they’d know if Derek would have to go to trial or if they would commute the charges and sentence him to time served. We’ve only heard once from Stuart, who said their meeting with the prosecutor was very productive. All that’s left is a judge to sign off on their agreement.

“My chest is so tight, I feel like I’m having a heart attack,” I laugh. “It’s like we’ve won, but we haven’t. One person stands between us and the future.”

My best friend is out of her chair and crossing the room as I’m still speaking. Standing beside me looking out, she hugs me, putting her chin on my shoulder. “I don’t know a whole lot about this process,” she says, “but I think if the prosecutor is on our side, the judge will go with his advice.”

“Even in a murder case? What if they get one of those hanging judges?”

“Oh my god, stop!” She cries, shaking her light-blonde head. “Now you’re making me nervous.”

A sudden knock on the door actually makes me scream. “Jesus!” Rubbing my stomach, I dash across the room to answer. “I’m so nervous, I’m screaming at the drop of a hat.”

Star is outside with Cammie on her hip. “Is it okay if we hang out with you guys?”

“Of course!” Holding the door wide, I let them both in.

Star’s involvement in the case is over. Bennett played his hand, and for now he seems to be winning. Still, none of us can return to normal life while Derek is in jail.

“I can hardly stand this,” Star says, putting her baby girl down. The little girl immediately crawls to where Lane is driving his truck up and down the lines in the rug. “I wish he’d waited. I wish he’d talked to me about Bennett’s ultimatum.”

She wrings her hands, and I grab another wine glass. “Wine?”

“God, please,” she exhales. “I’m about to start smoking again.”

“I might join you!” Elaine says, joining us around the table. “Cheers.” She holds her glass up, and we tap our three glasses together.

I take another long pull and walk to where the babies are playing, oblivious to our adult concerns.

“She’s so close to walking,” I say, as Star’s dark-haired beauty pulls up on the coffee table. “I remember when Dex was that age.”

With a sigh, I drop my head in my hands. Derek has to come home. He can’t miss being with Dex, teaching him to play football, helping him learn to ride a bike. The thought of him getting a life sentence makes my entire body shake.

“How much longer before we know something?” Star asks.

“No idea,” Elaine says, taking another drink. “Stuart will call Patrick first, I’m sure. They’re just waiting to get an appointment with the judge.”

“That time I went to court, it took four hours before I saw the judge,” she said, sitting on the floor by her daughter.

My brow lines. “Why did you have to go to court?”

Looking down, she clears her throat. “Just some... misunderstanding in Myrtle Beach.”

“Oh my god,” I say, remembering Star’s former occupation. “I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Seeming to read my mind, she shakes her head. “No! It wasn’t anything like that. I just... it was sort of a wardrobe malfunction, you might say.”

Blinking around, I try to place what that might mean. “Oh...” is all I can manage.

“They’re stricter than I realized on the public beaches.”

“Ohhh!” It’s clicking into place when another knock on the door makes me jump. Nodding at Elaine I head to open it. “I didn’t scream that time.”

“It’s the wine,” my best friend calls after me.

She’s right. I’m feeling warm and less panicky for the first time all day. Last night all I did was roll around in Derek’s king-sized bed missing him and wishing I could call him. We’d already used our one phone call, so I was left with my stomach twisted and aching, hoping he still had his own cell, praying that he wasn’t being targeted. I’d heard stories of prison justice. At the same time, Derek wasn’t in prison yet, and Sloan wasn’t a helpless victim who needed avenging. Stuart had texted yesterday asking for pictures of me and Dex to send to him, and the request made me simultaneously happy and miserable. Happy that he was thinking about us; miserable at the thought of him needing pictures to get through extended periods of separation.

Kenny, Slayde, and Mariska are at the door, and when I open it, Mariska pulls me into a hug.

“How are you holding up?” She studies me, her golden-brown eyes full of concern.

“It’s possible this is the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure,” I confess.

“That’s saying a lot,” Elaine mutters, taking another sip of wine. “Anybody need a glass?”

“I’ll have some,” Mariska goes over to her, smiling.

Kenny goes straight to Lane on the carpet, and he’s in her lap at once, hugging her and sliding his fingers in her violet hair. “Mommy purple,” he says.

“How’s my big boy?” She kisses his cheek. Slayde sits on the leather sofa beside her, and watching them makes me want Dex here even more.

“I should have Dex,” I say mostly to myself.

Elaine’s beside me. “It’s better he’s with your mom.” She slides my hair back from my shoulder. “He’d be fussy if he were here. You’re stressed, and we need to know what’s going to happen first.”

Dropping my chin, I rub my forehead hard. I know what she’s not saying. If the outcome is not what we’re all straining for, I’d rather not come apart in front of my little boy.

“Oh, Lainey,” I say as she hugs me again.

Slayde’s deep voice cuts through the tension. It’s so calm, I welcome the change. “I know this isn’t the most correct thing to say, but why didn’t he... not get arrested?”

For a moment, I consider the attractive young man sitting in Derek’s living room. He’s dressed in jeans and a navy tee with a matching navy windbreaker on top. We’ve only met once before at Elaine and Patrick’s wedding. He’s the love of Kenny’s life, and his past is so mixed into what’s happening here, it’s hard to fathom.

As he waits for my answer, his dark brow lines, and Kenny looks up at him then at me. I can tell she’s thinking the same thing, wondering why I’m hesitating.

Star jumps in from where she sits across from them on the floor, Cammie pulling up in her lap.

“It’s my fault,” she says, pulling her face away from the baby’s grasp. “He was protecting me... or us.”

“I don’t understand,” Kenny says, and her large blue eyes flicker from Star to me. “How was he protecting you if he killed Melissa’s ex?”

My eyes go to Elaine’s, and her expression is worried. I’m not sure how much Stuart’s told Mariska, but Kenny and Slayde know nothing about this story. I’m not sure how much Derek wants Slayde to know.

I’m about to answer, but Star continues. “A guy that used to work for him... Bennett? He started blackmailing me, saying he was going to turn me in for the murder. But when Derek met with him, he was really after revenge. Derek put his son away for life... I think for the same thing.”

“Star!” I say, trying to head her off, but it’s too late. The words are out before I can distract her.

Slayde’s face changes at once. His ice blue eyes cut to me. “Who is this Bennett?”

“I-I’ve never met him,” I say, truthfully, wishing at least Patrick were here to help me explain.

Slayde is on his feet, walking to where I stand, as Lainey pours us another glass of wine. “I need you to tell me,” he says.

Kenny follows, standing behind him, one hand on his waist the other holding his hand. She’s so tiny, but Slayde’s not quite six foot. He’s slim and muscular, and everything about him, from the way he moves to the way he stands, underscores his past as a fighter.

“You should probably hear this from Derek,” I say, holding his gaze. “I don’t know the whole story, and I’m afraid I’ll get the details wrong.”

“Just... try.” His expression is so intense, my chest clenches.

“Derek didn’t actually tell me,” I hedge. “He didn’t have time before... I got the story second-hand from Patrick.”

“Patrick knows?” Kenny’s brow lines, but Slayde cuts in.

“Melissa,” his voice urges. “Please.”

I take a breath and tell him what I know. “Bennett is a contract PI Derek used for cases here after he moved to Wilmington with me.”

“He’s from Princeton?” Slayde asks.

“I’m not sure. If not, he’s from somewhere near here.”

Slayde’s eyes wince. “Go on.”

“Derek didn’t know about this. Patrick was floored telling me the connection...” I try to remember the exact details. “Derek helped build the case against his son, who he called Shane.” Slayde’s eyes wince again, and my heart beats painfully hard. “He said Derek put him away with no mercy and he wanted Derek to suffer the same fate.”

Slayde exhales a long breath, and covers Kenny’s slim arm with his hand. I can’t help noticing the bold 21 inked near his thumb.

“Where is this Bennett?” he says.

“I don’t know.” Looking up at Elaine, she shakes her head. “It’s possible Patrick might be able to find him.”

Star and Mariska have slowly walked to where we’re standing, and now they join us.

“What’s going on?” Star says softly. “Do you know Bennett?”

“No,” he says not breaking eye contact with me. “Only one man ever claimed to be my father. He was the worst kind of lowlife.” His voice trails off, and Kenny’s arm tightens around his waist.

Turning back, a phone rings, and Elaine’s out of her chair, dashing to the guest bedroom. “It’s mine! It’s got to be Patrick.”

My head feels light, and I pull out a chair to sit. Mariska runs over behind me, placing her slim hands on my shoulders.

“Hey, babe, what’s the news?” We all lean forward listening. Elaine’s voice is unbelievably calm. “Okay,” she says. She frowns, and the room starts to blur. “Oh shit, Patrick, talk to Melissa. She can tell me what you say.” My best friend rushes toward me. “What?” She pauses. “Oh, right! Speakerphone!”

She pulls the phone away, touches its face, and sets it on the table in front of me. Then she drops to her knees beside me, taking both my hands in hers and holding them tightly. I can’t breathe waiting for what Patrick will say. Everyone in the room is huddled around my chair. Only the babies play on the carpet in the living room.

“I have great news and then... not so great news.”

I’m sure I’m going to throw up until Mariska shouts. “Good god, Patrick! Just tell us if Derek is free!”

“Yes—he is! The judge agreed with the prosecutor.” We all exhale in a united noise. Tears flood my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks. I’m shaking as waves of relief rattle my insides.

Mariska and Elaine hug each other, and then we realize Patrick is shouting over the noise of our celebration.

“Hang on!” Elaine says, “Hang on, guys. What, Patrick?”

We all grow quiet, and Patrick continues. “While the meeting was happening... well... it seems a fight broke out in the jail where Derek was located.”

Fear clenches my insides. “Is he okay?” I manage to choke out.

“No... he’s not. One of the guys had a shiv, a makeshift knife, and he stabbed Derek twice.”

A strangled cry, and Mariska’s on her knees at my side, wiping my hair from my face. I don’t even see her. My vision is blinded, and all I can see is Derek slipping away, needing me. I try to force my brain to understand what he’s saying.

“I think I’m in shock,” I whisper. Everybody is frozen, staring at the small device on the table, waiting for more.

“Patrick, what’s going on?” Elaine shouts again.

“He’s in the ICU at Johns Hopkins. I’m in the car headed your way. Can Melissa come down and meet me? I’ll drive her to Baltimore.”

Pain causes me to bend at the waist. I turn to the side and grasp the chair next to me. I can’t breathe. “Lainey,” I whisper. “I can’t breathe.”

“Oh my god, Patrick, you have to tell us if Derek’s going to be okay.”

“It’s still a bit touch and go, but he’s at the best hospital in the country. I have to believe he’ll be fine.”

“She’ll be ready,” Elaine picks up the phone and switches it off speaker. “I’ll ride with you. Text me when you’re out front. We’ll come down when you get here.”

* * *

The drive to Baltimore passes in a blur. I sit looking out the back window as Elaine and Patrick discuss what happened up front.

“Marcus convinced the prosecutor Derek didn’t deserve to go to prison?” My best friend says.

“Mmm... More like nobody would come forward to defend Sloan Reynolds, so why did he want to send a decorated Marine to prison for defending someone against attack.”

“Your ‘defense of others’ suggestion?” Elaine is proud—possibly even a little smug.

Patrick grins. “As much as I want to support you in this Us versus Them thing you’re doing, your brother was pretty vital to the case.”

She exhales and leans back in the passenger’s seat. “Why can’t you take credit for doing a great job? Why does everyone have to be a member of the damn bar association?”

“I think you mean the state bar.”

“Whatever! You helped. Did he even acknowledge that?”

“He didn’t get a chance.” Patrick smiles at her, and glancing back, I see so much adoration on his face. “Hey, look at me. I only talked to Captain Asshat, and he was so relieved, he was fucking nice to me. I can only imagine they were shitting bricks waiting for that judge to decide.”

My best friend looks out the window. “They should have been. We were all counting on them.”

We ride in silence as the music plays on the radio. Patrick finally speaks. “I know your dad and brothers were shitheads when you told them you wanted to be a teacher instead of a lawyer—”

“They still are,” she quietly grumbles.

He lifts her hand and kisses it. “I’m not. I think you’re an amazing teacher. And I’m really glad you’re related to one of the top lawyers in the country.”

Her eyes slant at him, and for a moment, I’m not sure if my bestie will make a quip or kiss her new husband. She does the latter, and despite my growing anxiety, I smile.

I might have been mad at Patrick for encouraging Derek not to tell me about Sloan, but I can never be mad for long. He’s made my friend one of the happiest people I know. Their love is so strong. Chewing my lip, fear tightens in my chest. I can only hope our love is strong enough to pull Derek through.

* * *

We’re practically running down the polished corridor. Stuart and Marcus are in the waiting room, and the minute we see each other, they stand and head in our direction. Marcus gives me a hug.

“Melissa,” he exhales. “We were so sure he was in the clear and now this.”

“What happened?” Elaine says from behind me.

I turn and her older brother leans forward to kiss her cheek. “Hey, sis.”

Stuart’s entire body is tense. “Ben said it looked like they jumped him in the weight room. By the time he got there, Derek had been stabbed twice.”

My hand flies to my mouth. Tears blur my vision, and another set of arms embrace me. Elaine hugs me on top of her brother, and for a moment, I take comfort from my childhood friends.

I only give it a moment, however, straightening up and wiping the tears away. “He’s going to be okay.” My voice is wobbly, and I have to force myself to believe it. I won’t give up on him. Not after how far we’ve come.

“Mrs. Alexander?” A soft voice speaks from behind us, and I turn.

“Here,” Patrick says, gesturing to me. I don’t correct him.

The doctor joins us in the waiting area, grim-faced. “May I speak to you in private?”

My knees try to go out, and Stuart catches my arm. Blinking up to him, I hold his hand. Be strong, Melissa.

“It’s okay,” I manage. “These are his closest friends... and his lawyer.”

A tight smile doesn’t soften the doctor’s expression. His eyes travel over the five of us before he continues. “We moved him to a private room. He’s heavily sedated, but he’s not intubated. He won’t require surgery, since the lung didn’t fully collapse. Luckily the wound wasn’t very deep or jagged. I took him off the ventilator, and once I see how he responds to treatment, we’ll bring him around.”

“So he’s okay?” Stuart cuts to the chase in his usual, direct way.

“He’s developed an infection around the second stab wound that we’re monitoring. His fever spiked, and we’ve started antibiotics in his drip. I’m concerned about sepsis.”

The white threatens again, and I’m sure I’ll faint.

“Mrs. Alexander,” the doctor catches my arm. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive. Can I get you something?”

“No,” shaking my head, I blink down as tears fall. “So he’s... not okay?”

His voice softens. “Your husband is healthy and fit. I’d rather be overly cautious. He had some minor contusions, and his body needs rest.”

“Can I see him?”

“I’m limiting visitors—as much for exposure as anything else.”

My chest squeezes. The tears won’t stop flowing, and Elaine passes me a handful of tissues.

The doctor observes me a moment. “Still... He might benefit from having you beside him.”

Without hesitation or even a look back, I go to Derek’s hospital room. I can’t see him from the small window. A screen stands between the bed and the door, and inside, the steady beep of monitors fills the air.

Stepping around the screen, a fresh flood of tears spills down my cheeks. He’s so pale. Lying on his back, his shirt is off and wide bands of gauze are wrapped around his chest. I can see the thick pads where his injuries are. I can’t bear the thought of what happened to him. Stabbed, beaten, jumped by five men...

The IV bag hangs near his head. His dark hair is pushed back, and his eyes are closed. That lovely scruff is still on his cheeks, and I want to press my face to his, kiss his lips gently, tell him it’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’ll never leave him again.

The doctor’s concern for infection is on my mind, so instead I pull up a chair at his bedside and sit, sliding my cool hand under his large one. I kiss the top before lowering my face to put my damp cheek against it.

“You’re so warm,” I say, swallowing the thickness in my throat. “The doctor is giving you something for that. He says it will fight the infection.”

No change. The beeping continues, and I continue to stroke his hand, making my way slowly up his forearm. His skin feels so good to touch. I have him with me again. It feels like years have gone by since he held me in his arms. Looking back, I realize how precious our love is, how much I have to fight for it. He doesn’t tell me important things. He protects me too much. We can work through these non-problems.

“I’m so sorry we fought,” I whisper, smoothing the dark hairs on his forearm. “I’m sorry I was angry. I love you.”

Movement behind the screen, and I look up to see a nurse entering. She has dark hair touched with silver, and when she smiles, lines form around her brown eyes.

“How about we wake him up?”

“Is it time?”

“His fever is down, and the antibiotics have been going several hours.”

I stand quickly, moving out of her way. “Do you need me to wait outside?”

“Nope. I’m just changing out his bag, reducing the medication. When he comes around, he’ll probably want to see a familiar face. He might be a little disoriented.”

My chest clenches. “Thank you,” is all I can say.

I watch as she works around him. The doctor enters holding a metal clipboard with papers on top. He steps over to one of the large monitors and makes notes. “Oxygen levels are good,” he says quietly. “Let me know if anything changes.”

The monitor beeps, and I wait. Nothing seems to be happening.

“Mr. Alexander?” The nurse touches his shoulder.

No response.

Her expression changes, and fear cramps my stomach. “Is something wrong?”

“Not necessarily.” She steps over to the monitors again and makes a few notes. “I want you to call me when his eyes open. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”

She goes around the screen, and it’s just the two of us. I’m on edge near his pillow waiting, straining for him to wake up. A round clock above the small television mounted on the wall says it’s almost nine. I hadn’t asked if I could stay overnight, but the doctor didn’t seem interested in making me leave.

My mind drifts back to when Dex was born. I’d decided to have a drug-free delivery, and my groans and screaming as I worked to get our little son into the world nearly drove Derek out of the hospital. I’ll never forget how helpless he looked. A bit like he looks now. Once it was over, he never left my bedside. At one point he climbed in beside me, putting one arm over my head and the other across my waist and around our new baby nestled in my side. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

Quickly assessing the position of the tubes and monitors to his left, I sit on the bedside in the small space to his right. Slipping off my shoes, I stretch my legs down his. The arm I was just caressing is between us, and I’m careful not to disturb his injured torso. The beeps continue steadily, without interruption, as I place my cheek against his shoulder and wrap my arm across his chest.

For a little while I only hold him, feeling the warmth of his body soothing the fear in my chest. Several moments pass, and my muscles begin to relax. I feel his calm breathing, in and out, and it calms mine. My body melts into his, and for the first time in three weeks, I feel whole again.

“I won’t leave until you’re back with me,” I say, sliding my palm carefully over his shoulder.