A beep sounds from the EKG. I lift my head slowly, expecting to see that flat line. But I see something else. I jump to my feet, walking past El to stand in front of the machine. The line isn’t flat anymore, there’s a triangle.
Another beep. El stops whimpering. She wipes her nose with the hem of her shirt and staggers to a stop beside me. We both stare at the machine but she’s the first one to react. She screams for the doctor, a nurse, walking to the door as fast as she’s talking. I don’t run after her, I move behind Bren’s bed and touch her feet.
She’s cold. I trace the sole of her feet but she doesn’t flinch. The oxygen mask on her face makes it hard for me to look at her. Brianna had one of those for so long the sight of it freaks me out. I hate masks.
“You will be okay,” I whisper and squeeze her feet. My girls are fighters. “You must be okay.”
There is another triangle on the EKG. Flat lines and triangles. The door swings open. The doctor rushes in with three nurses behind him. He is speaking too fast. El is on his heel, pointing to the bed. I should do something but I can’t. It feels like I am an onlooker, watching this scene play out through a broken lens.
“She has a pulse,” the doctor screams to El and she releases a ragged breath. “But it’s very weak.”
Gently pushing me out of the way, they set to work on Bren. He inserts a tube into her mouth and they begin CPR. We are kicked out of the room shortly. El curls against the door leading to the waiting room while I pace in front of the room.
A weak pulse is a good sign, right? How did he miss it the first time?
El sniffs. I break out of my trance. She is crying. Her body vibrates with each breath she takes but I don’t feel an ounce of pity. An emotion flows through me. A raw anger and urge to hurt her. To make her pay.
If she didn’t ask me to recall those guards, they would have noticed Bren go missing before she did. Bren wouldn’t have been trapped underwater after falling through the ice while she philandered with T. Was that why she didn’t want the guards to be with her? So she could have privacy with him? My throat clogs. I want to hurt her.
I stalk towards her. She doesn’t spare me a glance. “Where were you when Bren went off to the lake?”
Her hands disappear into the pockets of her oversized coat. I have a feeling they belong to her boy toy. He must be the same age as her, the perfect man. Her tears dot the floor, she sniffs again.
“I was... I...”
Laughter escapes me. Of course she can’t answer that. “You were with him. T,” I finish for her. El doesn’t protest or deny it because I am right. I nod again. “You went to the park with him.” Her head swings left, then right. “You had me call off those men so they wouldn’t report back to me. You were with a man while our daughter was drowning.”
Tears rush to the surface of my eyes. Fuck. I haven’t felt this teary-eyed in a long time. I don’t know why I give her a chance to talk and defend herself but I wait a second for her to say something and she does.
“I didn’t go to the park with T.” Her chest heaves, she dabs her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. “He met us there and we got talking. I was watching them and Bren excused herself to pee and I don’t know...”
El never finishes her statement because she bursts into tears. The sound irritates me. I don’t want to be around her. I don’t want her around my girls.
“Leave.” Her head jerks up and her eyes round to saucers. She starts shaking her head but I stop her from speaking. “Please leave and don’t come back here.”
She gasps. Her hand goes over her mouth, fresh tears pour out of her eyes. But I don’t care. “Brandon.”
“For your sake.” I push the door to the corridor open. She can join her man outside. They deserve each other. He is a better man than me. “Leave. You have done enough. I don’t want to see you here again.”
I keep the door open but she doesn’t move. My jaw ticks. I am losing it. I have never hit a woman. I don’t want to start that today but my patience is running thin. I want to hit something. I want to hit someone.
“Brandon.” I squeeze my eyes shut. I hate the sound of her voice. I hate how it makes me feel. “Baby.”
My eyes snap open. “Don’t call me that.” She nods. “And it’s Mr Stark to you.” Her jaw slacks. I tap on the door, motioning to the corridor of onlookers, including her man. He can comfort her. “Go. Leave.”
Her mouth opens as if she wants to say something, she doesn’t. She takes a step out and walks back to me. Her finger shoots up to stop me from talking and I ground my teeth in frustration. “I understand you are angry so I’m leaving. But I’ll be back.” I scoff. If I have to employ force to remove her from this building, I will do it without delay. “Bren is my daughter too, you can’t keep me from seeing her.”
I smirk. “Watch me.”
Moments after El leaves, I am still standing guard at the door. My phone vibrates in my pocket, shaking me out of my reverie and I slump against the wall. I don’t know how long I stay there with my knees pressed to my chest but by the time the doctor comes out of the ward, the kinks in my neck have multiplied.
“Mr Stark,” the doctor says. I force myself to my feet. I need to stop being a wimp. I am a head taller than him. He offers me a kind smile and I end up responding with a grimace. “We recommend transferring her to John Hops. Dr Ruth there is an expert in drowning. We need to get Bren to that hospital immediately.”
My hands are clammy. “Do it.” He looks behind me as if expecting El to show up. “She’s with Bren’s sister.”
Disbelief is evident across his face but he nods. I step into the corridor, half-expecting El to be gone. T is gone but she’s still there, cradling Wyn’s head on her laps. I march to them and pry Wyn off her. I am taking both girls away from her. Wyn moans but continues sleeping. I shift to accommodate her weight.
El and I engage in stare-off. Her eyes are sad and defeated, pleading with me. I turn my back on her.
She has to leave.
When the doctor steps into the corridor to update me, El is nowhere to be found. Overwhelmed with a lot of emotions, I release a breath. Maybe she should have stayed or begged to be with her daughter and I might have reconsidered. As soon as that thought creeps into my mind, I chastise myself.
“She has been airlifted to John Hops,” he says. “Dr Ruth has been updated. Bren is in safe hands.”
I walk out on him once I confirm the location of John Hops. Placing Wyn in the backseat to continue her nap, I input the address into the GPS. I skip the phone calls and texts. Some are from Joshua, others from Sophia.
Throughout the ride to John Hops, I try and fail to stay positive. I keep darting glances to the backseat. Once, I stop the car to make sure Wyn is fine. My little princess doesn’t bat an eyelid at my disturbance.
The receptionists at John Hops are more helpful. They point me in the right direction. A dark-skinned lady with a mole on the tip of her nose and a stethoscope around her neck walks up to me before I arrive at my destination. Wyn slowly rouses from her sleep, she squirms in my arms until I put her down.
“Mr Stark?” the lady asks. I nod. She tucks the clipboard under her armpit and stretches her hand. “Dr Ruth. Dr Scott referred your daughter to us.” My lips move into the closet thing to a smile and I accept her handshake. Wyn slips her hand into mine with a pout. Dr Ruth starts walking and we follow her. “Your daughter’s brain was deprived of oxygen for at least six minutes before CPR was administered.”
Those words are too familiar. I heard it once when Brianna was brought into the hospital and the doctor was certain she wouldn’t survive. Dr Ruth pushes a door open. Her office. She takes her seat behind the huge desk and motions for us to join her inside. I sit in front of her and prop Wyn on my legs.
Hugging Wyn to my chest, I ask, “Will she be okay?”
A second or two passes. Dr Ruth holds my gaze. “Her pulse is weak but we are doing everything we can.”
“Will she be okay?” I snap.
Dr Ruth is unfazed by my outburst. Wyn tugs on my beard and says, “Daddy.” I exhale a soft breath and press my forehead to hers. “Don’t be rude to the doctor,” she whispers. I chuckle and peck her lips. She wraps my arms around her waist and leans forward to face the doctor. “Will my sister be okay?”
An emotion fleets across Dr Ruth’s face. I lift a brow. I would love to see her lie to a child. She shuffles the documents in her hand and clears her throat. Meeting Wyn’s gaze, she smiles warmly at my princess.
“We have to run a few tests, sweetie.” Her tone is hopeful. Wyn smiles, I smile. “We will keep your sister here for the night so we can monitor her.” Satisfied with her reply, Wyn tugs on my beards again. She turns so her face is buried in my chest. To me, Dr Ruth says, “Monitor her for any sign of brain activity.”