Chapter Twenty
Xavier
I charged through the hospital entrance, my body riddled with panic, but that came across as anger when I barked at the nurse at the desk to tell me where I could find Chanel Richards.
“Sir, do you have any relation to the patient?”
She was just doing her job. There were laws against telling random people patients’ information. I knew that, but at that moment, I didn’t give a fuck.
“Where the fu—?”
“Xavier!” I turned and saw Chanel’s friend Gabby running to me. Worry was written all over her face.
“She’s down the hall,” Gabby told me, before I could even ask. She turned, entreating me to follow.
When I got the phone call thirty minutes ago that Chanel had been taken to the hospital, I departed the impromptu business meeting I’d been in at Grant’s and drove like a bat out of hell to get there. I still didn’t know what the hell was going on, but the panic in Gabby’s voice—hell, the fact she was calling me scared the shit out of me.
“What happened?” I questioned as Gabby stopped in front of a door.
“She went to help a client of hers, and the husband came home in the middle of it, I think. He shot and killed his wife, himself, a-a-and their son. Initially, he was rushed into surgery here alive, but a doctor just came in and told us he didn’t make it. Chanel’s been catatonic ever since. I took her phone to call you and her father and brother.” Gabby brought a shaky hand up to cover her mouth.
“She’s in there?” I demanded.
She nodded.
I stepped around her and pushed my way in through the hospital room door. Upon first entry, I could see a young black woman in scrubs, who was mouthing something. She had a gentle smile on her face, and her voice was low, comforting as she wrapped a bandage around an arm that stuck out from behind the curtain. I pulled the curtain back, and the nurse startled a bit, but besides a passing glance at me, Chanel remained motionless.
“Chanel, baby girl,” I started.
“Sir, do you have permission to be in here?” the nurse questioned, and I had to work to tamp down on my anger.
“Yes,” I answered in what sounded a little too much like a growl.
She turned unconvinced eyes to Chanel, who said nothing. I directed my attention toward Chanel. She sat on the edge of the hospital bed, back ramrod straight, arm held out to the nurse as she continued wrapping the bandage around the upper part of her arm. The jeans and gray T-shirt she wore were stained in blood. My hands balled into fists as fear gripped my chest. I told myself it wasn’t her blood; it couldn’t be, since she was sitting up with only one nurse tending to what looked to be a superficial wound. But still, seeing her this way made me seethe.
“Chanel, baby girl, tell me what happened,” I urged.
The only response she gave was a shifting of her eyes from the wall straight ahead to me. It felt as if someone stole my breath when her eyes collided with mine. The absolute vacant look in them, as if she’d seen a ghost, or worse, couldn’t stop unseeing whatever she’d witnessed was too much to bear.
“Chanel—”
“She hasn’t been responding. Not since…” the nurse trailed off.
Not since she got the news Noah died. Gabby had told me as much.
“And her arm?” I directed my question to the nurse.
“She was grazed by one of the bullets. There was quite a bit of blood, but we’ve stopped it. She’ll be sore over the next few days, but other than that…”
Other than that were the emotional scars she’d be left to deal with, I finished the nurse’s unspoken train of thought.
“I’ll have a doctor come in as soon as possible.” The nurse gave Chanel one last sympathetic look before turning to leave.
When we were alone, I came to stand in front of Chanel, who’d gone back to staring straight ahead. I gripped the side of her face, tilting her head up to me.
“Chanel, I know what you experienced tonight was,” I sighed, “was terrible, but you’ve gotta talk, baby girl. I need to know you’re still in there.” I massaged the side of her face with my thumb, continuing to hold her face up to me.
She blinked once, then twice. “H-he died,” she said, so low, I could barely make out the words, but she’d said them. It was a relief to hear her speak.
“Noah died,” she croaked out, sounding so broken, my only instinct was to pull her into my arms and never let go.
At first, her body was stiff, but as I began rubbing her back, I felt the first tremble. I knew she was trying hard to hold it all together, but that’s not what I wanted, so I pulled her in even tighter, massaging the back of her neck. Another tremble, and then a sob as she buried her face into my chest.
Eventually the tears came and her uninjured arm wrapped around my waist as she let it all out. Her sobs turned to wails, and each sound sliced another piece of my heart. All I could do was stand there and be her rock as she let it out. But even as she cried against my chest, I thanked God that she hadn’t been killed, or hurt any more than she was. I still burned to know what had happened, but that could wait until she was ready to tell me. Right then, the only thing I cared about was the crying woman in my arms.
“Is she hurt?!” I heard from outside the door. I wanted to tell the intruder not to come in, but before I could, Elliott and Jason burst through the door. Chanel jumped in my arms, looking up. When she laid eyes on her father, she immediately turned her head in the opposite direction, wiping away the tears that continued to fall.
“Chanel,” Elliott began, taking a step closer.
When Chanel squirmed, inching away from him, I took action, stepping in between an approaching Elliott and Chanel.
“Elliott, Jason. She’s been through a lot tonight, and I know the police will have more questions for her. I think she needs a little private time.”
Elliott gave me an incredulous look, one I was sure as hell not to back down from. This might be his daughter, but she was my woman—a woman who obviously didn’t want to see him right now. There was a stare-down, each of us holding our ground, until Elliott silently conceded. He gave one last look over my shoulder at Chanel, who still wasn’t looking at him.
“Pops, let’s go tell Gabby and Marjorie that Chanel’s okay,” Jason spoke up.
Finally turning, Elliott followed Jay out into the hallways and I turned back to Chanel, who continued dabbing at the tears on her cheeks. I grabbed a box of tissues from the little cart on the other side of the bed and handed a few to her.
“Have you spoken to the police yet?”
She blew out a breath, running her hand down the side of her face and pushing her hair behind her ear. I don’t understand why it mesmerized me whenever she did that. Even now, in her fragile state, that move turned me on.
“Y-yeah. At the scene, and then again here at the hospital when I first arrived. B-before they…” Another sheen of tears coating her eyes.
I nodded. “Good. All right, I’m going to talk with your father and brother, and then I’m going to take you home. If the police need you, they can contact you in the morning.”
I didn’t wait for her approval. I went to the door and told Jason my plans. He assured me he’d inform the police of our whereabouts and gave them a card to contact me if they needed to speak with Chanel. Five minutes later, I was wrapping my suit jacket around her shoulders.
“Let’s go home.” I guided her to the door, one arm wrapped possessively around the small of her back. When I opened the door, Gabby leaped up from her chair. On instinct I pulled Chanel back, putting myself in between them. Gabby gave me a look, but I wasn’t letting Chanel go or releasing her to anyone else. She finally took the hint, squeezing Chanel’s hand instead.
“I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” she whispered, giving me another darting look before placing a quick kiss on Chanel’s cheek.
I looked around for Jason and Elliott, who were standing farther down by the nurse’s station, talking with a detective we knew. Marjorie stood next to Elliott, quietly rubbing his arm, consoling. I nodded at Jason when he looked up at me, letting him know we were going out the back entranceway. He nodded and then leaned down, whispering something in his father’s ear. Elliott looked up at me, squinted and then nodded. His eyes turned sad when they lowered to where Chanel was. She remained silent, eyes on the floor.
“Ready?” I asked.
She gave a slight nod, and I turned, walking us in the opposite direction from her family, out the side entrance and around the building to where my car was parked.
****
Chanel
“I thought you said you were taking me home,” I stated, looking up at the house that was practically an estate, and most certainly not my home. On the drive from the hospital, I’d barely looked out the window, too consumed by thoughts, or rather, trying to block out the thoughts of what happened that night.
“I did,” he answered before getting out of the car.
I frowned, confused by that, but feeling so drained I didn’t have the energy to think much more about it. For once, I wouldn’t question being with him at his home, not that night.
He held his hand out to help me out of the car and lead me into the house. I didn’t say a word as he led me up the steps to his bedroom and then to the bathroom that was attached. He sat me on the edge of the bathtub while he turned on the rainfall showerhead before coming back to me. He stood over me, looking down on me with a stark look in his eyes. I felt that look right down to my soul as he leaned down, grabbing the edge of the stained T-shirt I still wore.
He encouraged me to lift my arms up so he could fully remove the shirt. Once that task was completed, he stood me up, unbuttoning and pulling down my jeans, urging me to step out of them. Next came off my undergarments, and even as I stood completely nude in front of the sexiest man I’d ever known, with his heated gaze on me, it was the utter care and concern in his expression that almost undid me.
He helped me into the shower, stepping behind me once he’d removed everything except his boxer briefs. Raising my injured hand, so it didn’t obscure his ability to clean me, he then proceeded to use the washcloth he’d brought into the bathroom with us to wash my entire body.
His touch was so firm, yet gentle at the same time, as he cleansed me from the neck all the way down to my feet. He nudged me under the showerhead to let the water fall over me, washing away the soap suds. I closed my eyes and inhaled when his hands went to my hair, massaging in the fruity smelling shampoo, and then rinsing it out. My eyes remained closed while he put conditioner in, using his hands to fingercomb my wet strands from root to ends before rinsing it out.
By the time the shower ended, my legs felt like jelly, and my vision was too blurry from unshed tears to see more than a few inches in front of me. That’s when two strong arms enveloped me in a towel that felt like a bed of clouds and picked me up, carrying me to his bed. There, he moisturized my entire body before dressing me in one of his T-shirts that was probably twice the size of me. Minutes later, he shifted our bodies so that he was spooning me underneath his comforter, his arm around my waist. Despite no words exchanged between us, I’d never felt so safe in my entire life.
“Sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”
Those were the last words I had heard before I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.