Isaiah
If it weren’t because he’d had some doozies in his life, Isaiah would think this the worst day of his life. But it was definitely up there in the top three. It had taken him the entire drive downtown to calm himself. But he had and he was sure of it now.
He fucked up.
He’d gone against his better judgment and went there. The call was supposed to be just a check-in to let her know he had one last errand to run but would see her afterward. He’d already decided it’d be best if he held off asking her anything until he saw her, at the very least until he was in a better mood. Only just hearing her voice had done something to him after he’d spent hours obsessing about her and Nathan’s past.
The only reason he hadn’t gone straight to her hotel room the moment clarity hit his ass was because he had to get to the assessor’s office today. If he didn’t, he’d be putting Valerie through the trouble of redoing all this damn paperwork for the property title changes all over again. The county offices closed at five, and his call with Kelli had gone on much longer than he’d anticipated.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he walked into the crowded county building.
The lines were outrageous with all the other last-minute scramblers who were running in just before closing. He was in no mood nor did he have the patience for this shit. Not today. He never should’ve asked Kelli what he had, not with all the stress and angst he’d had to deal with all day. He’d even reasoned earlier that maybe he shouldn’t for a few days, until all this crap with Nathan died down. No, his stupid ass couldn’t wait. And what he knew would happen happened. He’d snapped and been a complete asshole.
Now he had some major groveling to do as soon as he could get out of this place. His only hope was that she’d have a little mercy on him—cut him some slack because of the shitty day he’d had. So she let Nathan kiss her more than once. Big shit. God knew Isaiah had quite the past. She was in love with him, not Nathan. He believed this. So why had he been so quick to jump on the belief that maybe there was more to her and Nathan? His brother hadn’t even remembered her when he first brought up her name. How deep could their connection have been? It hadn’t been.
Isaiah already knew this. He was so pissed at himself for letting his mood today get the best of him. As much as he’d calmed and knew he messed up, he still didn’t trust himself to call her back yet. He was still too damn worked up, and there was still the issue of her possibly never planning on turning that job down. She’d explained why she wanted to leave all her things in New Mexico. She’d just send for them when she was settled. It did make sense. Isaiah knew this too, yet the suspicion lingered. He ground his teeth, glancing around. The line had barely moved, and he wasn’t even sure he was in the right one.
The brunette in front of him was holding several files in her hand. In her professional-looking skirt suit, she seemed as if she’d know her way around here. “Excuse me,” he said, leaning into her.
She turned to him, and he was taken for a moment by her bright blue eyes. He wasn’t expecting such light eyes with her hair as dark as it was. “I’m sorry, but do you know—?”
Gunshots and screams had them both hitting the floor and Isaiah reaching for his gun. Everyone around him scrambled in sheer terror. With his heart nearly jumping through his chest, Isaiah crouched down. “Everybody down!” he heard himself yell but had no idea where he’d gotten the sudden courage to be in charge. Then he remembered—the gun.
There were more shots—about ten. One after the other popped consecutively. People continued to run and scream. He hid behind a pillar; though he had no idea where the gunshots were coming from. At that point every loud noise sounded like a gunshot, and there was so much screaming and people knocking things over it was impossible to make out where the shots were actually coming from.
As Isaiah crawled on his knees, still holding the gun tightly, he didn’t even realize he’d lost all the paperwork, his cell phone, and possibly his wallet. He glanced around but only for a second before he was back down again as the repeated gunshots started up and he had to crouch down again. This time they were closer and he knew he had to make a move. He was likely one of the few people there, if not the only one aside from whoever was shooting, that was armed. He had to do something, but he still couldn’t even make out from which direction the shots were coming.
He started to lift his head and his gun when the gun was blown out of his hands. The sound was so deafening his ears rang. The last thing he heard before the next shot was, “No heroes!”
~~~
“I’m so sorry.”
Isaiah was so close to recognizing the voice. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. But the agonized words were whispered too low for him to recognize it entirely. Other voices were there this time, shushing the first voice and assuring whoever was whimpering that he had nothing to be sorry for.
The numbing physical pain was there as usual. Though he still couldn’t pinpoint where the pain was exactly. Isaiah always felt it most profoundly when he was in this state of consciousness. Only he welcomed it because the moment it started to go away so did everything else—his ability to stay awake and any understanding of what had happened. He still couldn’t see, nor did he have any idea where he was, but he could only imagine he was sick. He’d heard the soft crying often. It made his heart ache, made him anxious, and almost always resulted in his pain and the only form of awareness slipping away. Isaiah didn’t want the inexplicable abyss anymore. This had gone on long enough and he’d figured it out. Something had happened. He was sick or he’d been in an accident—maybe dying.
In spite of knowing all this and hearing the anguished whimpers, something else gnawed at him. As the pain got more intense, so did the clarity. Isaiah took in short breaths, willing himself to take the pain. It was too painful to breathe in too deep, but he did his best to stay calm through the pain. If it came with clarity, then he’d take it, and that’s when it dawned on him. He must be on painkillers. The medicine was what brought on the abyss—the fuzzy state of mind that kept him from remembering anything—the very thing he didn’t want anymore.
The stabbing pain on his side made him grunt, and the whispers and whimpers ceased. For once, he was able to move his eyelids, and he heard someone gasp. The continued stabbing pain clouded his thinking, making him groan again.
“Isaiah?” This time he recognized the voice. It was his brother Nathan, only Isaiah couldn’t speak. “Can you hear me?”
Still not able to speak and the pain getting worse by the second, Isaiah nodded with another groan. “I think he’s in pain.” He recognized that voice too, his sister Olivia.
“Get a nurse in here.” That demanding voice would be AJ. “He needs more pain medicine.”
Isaiah shook his head even as another groan escaped him and he was finally able to open his eyes. Both Emi and Olivia, who were standing on one side of the bed, brought their hands to their mouths as their already red and puffed eyes were tearing up while their brows pinched together.
Trying to smile as Isaiah wanted to was impossible. But when he realized he had both their hands in one of his, he was able to squeeze. They both gasped. “He’s squeezing my hand,” Emi said as he turned to the other side of his bed to his brothers.
Both appeared worn, but Nathan especially looked wrecked. Then Isaiah remembered the accident, the two dead people, the news reports, and the news vans that had already been parked outside their property the day he drove out through the gates.
More pain shot through him, making him wince and moan; though it still hurt like a son of a bitch to breathe in too deeply. “They can give you more pain killers if you need them, Sai,” AJ said anxiously.
Isaiah shook his head as adamantly as he could, which meant he’d barely moved it, but thankfully, it was enough to have Nathan translating that Isaiah didn’t want any. Isaiah was still trying to figure out why he was the one in the hospital. He hadn’t been in an accident?
That’s when it all came to him like a movie being shown in fast speed.
Downtown.
The county offices.
Shots being fired.
People screaming.
Crawling on the floor trying to hide.
No heroes!
Then it all came to a thunderous stop and he remembered something else.
“Kelli?”
His siblings all exchanged wide-eyed but troubled glances until AJ finally spoke. “She’s in New Mexico.”
Bits and pieces of that last conversation he had with her came to him. The anger. The pain of hearing her saying she wanted out. The realization that maybe she’d never intended to turn down that job and then . . . “When?”
AJ shook his head with an almost bothered expression but seemed to be the only one willing to answer. “Few days ago, we think. Moe tracked her down.”
“Does—?” The excruciating pain at his side had Isaiah groaning again and squeezing his eyes shut. “Does she know?”
“We haven’t talked to her.” This time it was Nathan who answered his question. “Listen to me, Sai. What I said that day about her being a hell of a friend was just me being an asshole. I was upset, but what she told you was true. We were never anything more than friends.” His brother’s brows came together tightly as he squeezed Isaiah’s hand. “I’ve felt like such a dick all this time that it was one of the last conversations I had with you. I would’ve never forgiven myself if . . .”
His brother’s voice broke, and he leaned over Isaiah, hugging him very carefully. But Isaiah could feel the emotion. He wanted to tell him it was okay, not to worry about it. Knowing now it was Nathan who’d he’d heard apologizing and whimpering at his ear several times while he’d been half out of it, made him feel bad. The guy had enough to be dealing with emotionally, enough he was stressing about. Isaiah had suspected that might be the case from the beginning—that Nathan had spoken out of anger—but he could barely breathe now that the pain was getting so bad.
Something started beeping on one of the machines, and Nathan pulled away just as the nurse rushed in. “How long has he been awake?” she asked no one in particular as she examined the numbers on one of the machines.
“Just a few minutes.” AJ said.
“He doesn’t want pain killers,” Emi informed the nurse, and the nurse turned to her then Isaiah.
“We need to get your breathing under control.” She walked around the bed.
Isaiah winced in agonizing pain, even as she lifted the breathing mask over his mouth. “No pain killers.”
“Mr. Romero, you’ve had major surgery. You need to be able to take deep breaths to avoid getting pneumonia. You won’t be able to if you’re in this much pain.”
“Not yet. Isaiah strained in an attempt to appear in less pain than he actually was, but the truth was he could barely catch his breath now. He turned to Nathan. “Don’t worry about it.”
Isaiah paused to take a few more short breaths to appease the nurse, who looked ready to hit the damn button on one of the tubes he had hanging from his arm.
“Moe tracked her down?” He asked anxiously. “Did he talk to her?”
Again his siblings exchanged troubled glances. Nathan was the first to speak this time. “No, we, uh . . . we were going to, but . . .” He stopped and glanced at his sisters as if he weren’t sure if he should go on.
“It’s been on the news nonstop, Sai,” AJ said, glancing at Nathan, then regarded Isaiah very seriously. “This was a terrorist attack, and like with Nathan, the moment the word got out that my brother had been one of the critically wounded, the press was all over it. I’ve even spoken at some of the press conferences, regarding your condition. It didn’t look good there for a while. There’s no way she wouldn’t know. We figured it was best to wait and see what you wanted to do before trying to contact her.”
Isaiah turned when Emi lifted his hand and kissed it. “We’ve been so scared,” she squeaked as her voice betrayed her, and Olivia put her arm around her.
The machine beeped, and the nurse started moving things around him again. Isaiah closed his eyes. She hadn’t even called? Something else beeped, and Isaiah closed his eyes as he felt that familiar lethargy coming on. This time he actually welcomed it because he wasn’t sure which hurt more now—the physical pain or his aching heart. How could he have been so lovesick? Still be? “Don’t . . .” he said, the words getting harder to get out now. “Don’t bother with her.”
He heard his siblings ask the nurse something. She must’ve really hit him with a massive dose because almost instantly his eyelids weighed heavily. He could barely lift them, and he couldn’t even make out what his siblings were asking, only that whatever it was they sounded anxious.
Then everything was gone again.