Wreck Me (Nova #4)(90)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

I stride after him as I dial the police, worried he’s going to go after Avery. “I need to report a fight…” I trail off as I round the corner of the building.

Because Conner comes at me with a knife, and I have zero time to react as it sinks into my side.

“You fucking asshole.” I press my hand to my side, feeling the warmth of blood drip down my fingers.

The God damn motherfucker smiles.

And something snaps inside me.

I think about all the times he hurt Avery.

All the pain he caused her.

All the times he made her bleed.

How he almost killed her.

Scared her.

And how he can’t seem to let her go.

To free her from his abuse.

Continuously causing her pain.

Beating her down.

Slowly killing her.

It’s time for this to end.

Battling through the pain, I crane my arm back and ram my fist into his face. Caught off guard, he drops the knife and trips back. I keep going at him, throwing punch after punch until my arm and fingers ache, until the pain in my side is gone, until Conner falls onto the ground unconscious, still breathing, but beaten up pretty badly.

I think about going further yet realize that, even with all the bad stuff I’ve done in my past, I’m not that kind of person. So instead, I stumble over to his car and find what I’m looking for in the glove box. Then, with every ounce of strength I have left in me, I grab Conner’s arms and drag him over to the car and hoist him into the driver’s seat.

Staggering back to my phone, I call the police again and tell the operator the address of where they can find a major drug dealer. Then I hang up and brace my hand on the wall as I drag my feet and make my way around the motel and back to my room. I manage to bang on the door one time before I crumple to the ground, staining the cement with my blood as I stare up at the sky. I’m not afraid of dying like I was last time. No, this time feels different—I feel different.

Because this time my soul isn’t dead.

It’s alive.

And full.

Of love.

Chapter 40

I’m wrecked.

Avery

“I’m going to lose my shit if we don’t get an update,” I mutter, biting on my nails as I pace the length of the quiet waiting room. It’s been hours since I pulled up to the motel and saw the ambulance driving away. Hours since I’ve seen Tristan. Hours since I’ve kissed him. And now I’m not sure I’ll ever get to kiss him again. He’s been back in surgery for a while, and I feel like I’m losing my mind.

“Avery, calm down.” Nova rises from the chair and touches my arm, stopping me. Quinton is with us, too, but he went to get coffee, and Jax is on his way with Mason. He headed here on the bus despite my protests, more out of worry for me than anything. “Don’t get too worked up until we find out what’s going on.”

“I can’t calm down,” I tell her with a sigh, flinching when I get a whiff of that stale hospital scent. “I fucking hate hospitals… too much has happened here.”

“I hate them, too,” she divulges, slumping down in a chair. “Ever since I lost my father.”

“I’m so sorry.” I sink into a chair beside her. “I didn’t know he died.”

“No one really knows about it, but being here… It kind of reminds me of the day my mom and I had to go to the hospital because he had a heart attack.”

“I’ve never been in one to for anyone else.” I lean back and stretch my legs out in front of me. I still have the same clothes on that I did at the beach and keep finding sand in my pockets. “But I’ve been admitted to them a lot.”

“Do you mind if I ask for what?” She presses her lips together, waiting for my answer.

“Just stuff.” Conner stuff. God, he put me in the hospital so many times. And now Tristan’s in here because Conner stabbed him and Conner’s in here because Tristan beat him unconscious.

This whole thing is such a mess.

I just need to know if he’s okay.

Just let him be okay.

I glance over at the police officer standing guard at one of the doors near where Conner is being treated for injuries. Although one good thing came out of it. I just wish he wasn’t at this hospital, but the next closest one is over an hour away, so there wasn’t much of a choice.

“Quinton Carter?” a nurse asks as she exits through the swinging doors we aren’t allowed to go behind yet. She’s wearing bright green scrubs with kittens on them, and her hair is pulled up into a messy bun. She’s young, about my age, seeming a little too young to be a nurse, but then again, I seem too young to most people to have a five-year-old son.

“Um.” Nova stands up and crosses the room and I quickly follow her. “Yeah, he went to get coffee.”

“Who are you?” the nurse asks, eyeing Nova over kind of rudely.

“Nova Reed,” Nova replies, glancing at me helplessly. “We’re his friends.”

The nurse sifts through the papers on her clipboard. “Well, Quinton’s the only one listed as family for Tristan Morganson, and I can’t give updates to anyone other than family.”

“Oh, come on, Clara.” Jax suddenly appears by my side with a sleeping Mason in his arms. Both of them are still wearing their pajamas, their hair ruffled, and Jax looks as exhausted as I feel. “Can’t you bend the rules for once?”

Her glossy lips twitch as if she’s trying not to smile. “It’s against the rules. Sorry.”

“Oh, come on. Can’t you at least tell us if he’s okay?” He tries to dazzle her with a smile, and I almost laugh when Clara gets a bit flustered. “Cute scrubs by the way.”

“Would you knock that off?” she says, nearly fanning herself. “I’m at work.” She fights giving in to him—I can tell—but the longer Jax stares at her, the more she begins to cave. I practically gape at him because I’ve never seen this side of him. “Fine. He’s stable, okay? But that’s all I’m going to say.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. “Is he going to be okay?”

She nods. “He should make a full recovery, but I can’t let you go back to see him until he wakes up.” She aims a finger at Jax. “And no more updates to non-family members.”

Relief washes over me so potently that I nearly collapse to the floor. Moments later, tears cascade from my eyes. I don’t even know what’s causing them. My guilt, partly. My worry, fuck yes. The fear of loss. The fear of losing someone important.