Ripped: The Price of Loyalty by Tania Joyce

 

Chapter 3

Sitting at 3:07a.m. in the emergency waiting room next to Hunter was not where Kyle wanted to end the night, but he’d do anything for Gemma. He drew his leather jacket tighter around his chest to ward off the chill from the air-conditioning and the freezing March breeze that drifted in from outside every time someone opened the sliding glass doors. Throwing a hurry-up glance at Amie and Sam, his bodyguard, who were having heated words with the administration assistant a few feet away, he slouched back into his seat.

Kyle hated hospitals. The smells. The sounds. The sirens. He’d spent too many hours between their walls. First, when his kid sister lost her fight with leukemia when she was thirteen years old. And second, when his parents were killed in a car crash two years ago, and he had to identify their bloodied, broken bodies. Now, Gemma was here. The last place he ever wanted to see her.

He drummed out an erratic beat on his leg and watched the seconds tick by on the clock above the reception desk. He hadn’t stopped cursing since the accident. He gritted his teeth together so hard he thought they might crack like rocks under too much pressure. He hated the fact he hadn’t reacted quickly enough to stop the trunk in time. His stomach clenched recalling the vision of Gemma lying in pain, crying on the floor. He should have been paying attention, but he’d been so caught up in sorting out what to say to her that he hadn’t seen Hunter fly across the room until it was too late.

Now he just wanted to make sure she was okay and that her injuries weren’t as serious as they looked, but the doctor was taking forever. He turned to Hunter. “How much longer is this going to take?”

“We’ve only been here half an hour, dimwit,” Hunter said, holding an icepack to his bruised cheek from when he fell off the trunk. “Setting her leg is going to take a while.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe it’s broken. I never meant to hurt her. Ever.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Kyle said with razor-sharp bite. “You know that?” Hunter was his best friend, had been since elementary school, but right now, he hated him for hurting Gemma. “Gem better be okay, because if she’s not . . . I’ll kick your balls up your ass.”

“Thanks, bud. You always know how to make me feel better.” Hunter rubbed his cheekbone and moved his jaw around, up, and down. “Do you think the doctor should look at my jaw? It might be broken.”

“It’s not broken.” Kyle snorted a puff of air through his nose. “There won’t be any permanent damage to your precious face.”

“It fucking hurts,” Hunter moaned.

“It’s a bruise, you pussy.” Kyle scowled, his gaze darted around the busy waiting area.

The dozen or so people nursed various injuries—a guy with a hand wrapped in a bloodied towel, a mother holding her young child who was vomiting into a sick bag, a group of college girls holding ice to their male friend’s forehead. They’d all slipped out their smart phones to take snaps of him and Hunter. Even hospital staff kept glancing in their direction.

“We need to get the guys out of here or you’re going to have a riot on your hands.” Amie said to the administration assistant and waved her hands in his direction.

The flustered assistant glanced over at them, then looked Amie square in the eye. “We’re a hospital. Not a celebrity hideout.” Her voice quivered like a cell phone on vibrate. “I can assure you Gemma is in safe hands. Why not take the young men home? They can come back later in the morning.”

From his seat six feet away, Kyle was about to object, but Amie beat him to it.

“Pfft,” Amie huffed and folded her arms. “That’s not going to happen. Surely there is somewhere other than here where Kyle and Hunter can wait. We’ll pay for a God damn room if we have to.”

The admin lady’s mouth gaped. “A room? We’re not a hotel.”

Kyle smirked. This lady didn’t know who she was dealing with. Amie always got her way.

“Ma’am, I assure you, it’s for the safety of your patients and everyone here.” Sam’s deep James Earl Jones voice filled the room. “I’d be very happy to shove them in the janitor’s closet if that’s all you have available. But as you can see, these two are starting to attract a crowd.”

Kyle followed Sam’s pointed finger to the group of ten or so young girls hovering outside the emergency entrance doors with cell phones poised in their hands. None looked as if they needed the services of a hospital.

Kyle lowered his gaze when he recognized three of the girls from the after-party. Now was not the time for putting on smiles, having photos taken, and signing autographs for fans. Gemma was hurt. And he needed to know she was okay.

Gemma and Hunter’s bodyguards, Chester and Mick, stood from their seats nearby and shuffled closer to the doors. With their black tailored suits, wired bugs in their ears, and steely glares, they were enough to intimidate anyone and keep them away.

Hunter sighed and slumped in his chair. “This sucks. I hate waiting.”

“You and me both.” Kyle nodded. “Let’s hope Gemma won’t be much longer so we can get out of here.”

Kyle leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. Beside him, Hunter fidgeted with his watch and checked the time every few minutes.

Seeing the worry on Hunter’s face did give Kyle some solace. It was good to see Hunter concerned about something other than himself for a change.

Kyle rubbed his arm and stared at a scuff mark on the floor. It was funny how life changed. Months ago, he would have been right beside Hunter, dancing with all those girls near the stage. But not anymore. The easy girls throwing themselves at him didn’t do it for him anymore. The loneliness didn’t do it for him anymore. The constant ache in his heart didn’t do it for him anymore.

Tonight was supposed to be the night he told Gemma how he felt. His love for her had grown ever since his family’s tragic accident. He’d tried to ignore the pull toward her by being with other girls, remaining focused on his music and hiding behind his public persona, but Gemma had taken hold of his heart, and now he thought of no one else. On tour, there’d been moments between them—the nights they’d stayed up until dawn and watched the sunrise from hotel rooftops, the way she’d looked at him when she sang “Horizon”, and the way they’d connected when creating something new. Did she feel the same way about him as he did for her?

He was sure she did.

He had to take the chance. He was tired of watching and waiting from a distance, hiding his jealousy when she was with other guys. He was tired of her not being his.

Kyle sat back in his chair, glanced in Hunter’s direction, and wondered what his best friend would think.

Probably nothing.

He’d probably crack a bottle of JD to celebrate.

Kyle had thought long and hard about asking Gemma out; he’d lost sleep contemplating the consequences. He was risking everything—their music, his friendship with her, the bond they all shared. Losing one or both scared the hell out of him, because Hunter and Gemma were like family. No . . . they were family.

But he had a connection with Gemma that he could no longer deny.

The swing doors to the emergency room flung open with a loud swoosh. The doctor who they met when they arrived walked toward them in his blue scrubs. Kyle jumped to his feet, rushed over, and met him halfway across the room.

“Is Gemma okay?” Kyle’s voice ran at a higher pitch than normal.

“About time.” Amie folded her arms and appeared beside Kyle with Sam and Hunter flanking her.

“She’s fine.” Dr. Fraser’s drawled on as if his tempo was set to slow. “She’s had five stitches to the cut on the side of her head, and the X-rays showed she has a fractured tibia. There was no bone displacement, so she didn’t need surgery, but we had to give her a general anesthetic to set her leg in a cast. She’s being transferred now up to the VIP suites.”

The doctor, with a playful glint in his eyes, turned his attention to Hunter. “I’m not usually open to bribery and corruption, Mr. Collins, but your color request for her cast has been granted in return for the VIP tickets you offered to your next live show here in New York. My daughter will be ecstatic.”

Hunter pumped his fist and gave the doctor a friendly slap on the shoulder. “You’re a legend.”

Kyle shook his head at Hunter. “I don’t want to be you when Gemma wakes up. She’s not going to be impressed.”

Dr. Fraser cleared his throat. “We’re going to keep her in for a night or two because she’s very fatigued and suffering from dehydration. Luckily it’s the end of your tour because she needs a good rest.”

“Can we see her?” Kyle’s heart raced. He’d waited around long enough.

“Yes, you can head on up to Ward Seven.” He pointed to the elevator bay.

Nearing a sprint, Kyle took off for the doors with Hunter on his heels. Their security team and Amie were quick to follow.

After checking in at the nurses’ station, Kyle skidded to a halt in front of Gemma’s room. Hunter shoved him in the shoulder trying to open the door first, but Kyle jabbed his elbow into Hunter’s ribs and managed to get ahead.

Kyle and Hunter rushed through the door. The nurse at the end of Gemma’s bed jumped, her eyes widened, and her mouth gaped.

“Oh my God.” The twenty-something-year-old woman covered her mouth. “I’m such a huge fan. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Gemma’s name on the admission chart. I thought I was dreaming. And now . . . you’re all here.”

“That’s great.” Kyle brushed the nurse’s comments off, hoping he didn’t sound rude, and darted straight past her to see Gemma. “Gem?” He said softly, placing his hand gently on her upper arm.

“Babe, we’re here.” Hunter eased around to the opposite side of the bed. “I’m so sorry.”

With mascara racooning her eyes, Gemma stirred. Little whimpers and moans fluttered from her lips. Her eyes opened into fine slits, and a sleepy smile touched her mouth. “Heeey guys.”

“Alright, Hunter, I mean . . . Mr. Collins. Give the girl a moment.” The nurse shooed him out of the way and headed around to his side of the bed to do her observations. But Kyle didn’t budge from his spot beside the IV machine. He wasn’t moving anywhere until he knew Gemma was all right.

The nurse in her sky-blue scrubs peered into Gemma’s face. “Hi, sweetie. Do you know where you are?”

“Hoshpital.”

“Yes. That’s right. You’re in Lenox Hill Hospital. I’m Nicole, your nurse. Can you tell me your name?” She leaned closer, the ID badge hanging around her neck swinging like a pendulum every time she moved. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Um . . . it’s Shemmma. Shemmma Looonsdale.” Gemma tried to prop herself up on her elbows, but the nurse placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Do you remember what happened earlier tonight?” Nicole shone a bright light into Gemma’s eyes.

“Yesh, but are you fucking trying to kill me?” Gemma closed her eyes tight, her hand shooting up to cover them.

A shudder coursed through Kyle’s bones when pain contorted Gemma’s face. That light must have felt like an arrow being rammed into her eye socket.

Nicole, seemingly oblivious to Gemma’s discomfort, continued her observations. Blood pressure. Temperature. Pulse. Kyle rocked on his feet, wishing the nurse would hurry up and leave Gemma alone.

Blinking her sleepy eyes open, Gemma reached up to touch the square-inch of gauze stuck near her temple. “Am . . . am I going to have a shcar?”

“You’ve had five stitches,” Nicole said. “You’ll probably have a small one about half an inch long, nothing to worry about.”

Kyle brushed Gemma’s tangled hair off her brow and stroked his thumb across her worry lines, trying to erase them. “Hey . . . it’s just another one to add to our battle-scar stories. Like this one.” He pointed to the small scar line underneath his chin where Gemma had accidentally smacked him in the face with her guitar at one of their first gigs.

“It’s going to be nothing like this one.” Hunter rubbed at his left forearm. The silver line zigzagging across his skin was a constant reminder of the end of their first tour in London when they’d all gotten high and drunk, and Hunter had crashed through a glass door. A severed tendon, surgery, and eighteen stitches later was a night they’d never forget.

“And what about my leg?” Gemma tried to sit again, but the nurse wouldn’t let her.

“Please rest, Gemma.” Nicole patted Gemma on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. It’s not a bad break. We’ll talk about it after you get some sleep.” Nicole fussed with Gemma’s pillows and blankets, then walked around to stand beside Kyle. She flicked her fingernail against the clear tubing on the IV machine and placed a small plastic controller near Gemma’s pillow. “This is morphine. It’s set to automatically administer through your IV every four hours. If the pain in your leg gets unbearable, all you have to do is press this button two or three times. Okay?”

“Shhuuure.” Gemma smiled a lazy smile.

Kyle wished he could have a shot of whatever she was on to ease his worry for Gemma, calm his nerves, and alleviate the ache for her that surrounded his heart. But she was okay. That’s all that mattered. Everything else would be fine.

The machine beside Kyle whirred and administered a dose of morphine into Gemma with a click.

“Holy shhhhit.” Her glassy eyes stared at the IV rammed into her arm. “This stuff is awesome. You should try some.”

Kyle squeezed her hand, warmth charging around his heart. She was so beautiful, even spaced out on drugs.

Gemma’s head rolled toward Hunter. “Hey, Hunt. Don’t beat yourself up about this. It was an accident. You know me. Shit happens. It’s a few stitches. A broken bone. I’ll be fine.”

Then she turned and looked at Kyle, looked at him, right into his soul. Could she see how much he cared for her? How much he loved her? That she was the one?

“Thanks. Thanks for being here.” He strained to hear her soft voice and the muffled words that slipped from her lips. “I love you. And Hunt. And my guitar. And gnocchi. And ice cream. And—”

“Those drugs are really kicking in, aren’t they?” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he patted her hand. “You need to get some rest?”

“Yes. Let her get some sleep, Mr. McIntyre.” Nicole’s gaze remained glued on Hunter, even when she wrote on Gemma’s chart. She went to place the folder in the pocket at the end of the bed, but she missed the holder and it fell to the floor with a loud smack. She rushed to pick it up and fumbled with it again before finally getting it into the pocket. Her cheeks reddened, and she gave Hunter an awkward smile.

Kyle rolled his eyes and turned back to Gemma. Her eyes were shut. Her breathing had deepened. Her long lashes lay against her cheek. “How long will she be asleep?”

Nicole placed her hand on her hip and gave him a that’s-the-most-stupid-question-in-the-world type of look and sighed.

Kyle realized his mistake. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “We’re just worried about her.”

“That’s so sweet. She’s one lucky girl.” Nicole clicked the top of her pen and stuck it into her pocket. “I’ll go get a cloth to clean her face, then she needed a good rest before the next round of observations.” Nicole ducked into the private bathroom.

Kyle hadn’t noticed much about the room when he’d rushed in, but now he glanced around and realized that this was no ordinary hospital room. The VIP suite was larger than most hotel suites they’d stayed in when traveling. And although he hated the fact that Gemma was in here, it was much better than hanging around in the emergency waiting room and the growing crowd of fans.

“Hey, Kyle.” Hunter jutted his chin toward the door. “Are you going to talk to Amie and security about going home?”

“You go talk to them.” Kyle stretched his neck from side to side to release the tension.

“Why me?” Hunter straightened.

“I’m not leaving Gemma.” Kyle leaned his hip against the bed railing and folded his arms.

“Neither am I.” Hunter pulled a chair closer to the bed.

Kyle dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Why did Hunter have to be so stubborn? Kyle just wanted him to leave. He wanted the nurse to leave. He wanted everyone to leave so he could have time alone with Gemma, be there when she woke up.

“You do it.” Kyle lowered his gaze. He flexed his fingers by his side. “You put Gem in here—you go sort everything out.”

Hunter sucked in a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He pushed the chair aside and stormed toward the door, nearly bumping into Nicole as she came out of the bathroom. She stepped aside and let her gaze follow Hunter’s ass as he left.

“Would you like me to get you a cold cloth, or do you need to lie down?” Kyle teased.

“No. I’m fine. I’m fine now.” Nicole’s cheeks flushed, and she walked over to clean Gemma’s face.

What shocked Kyle more than anything was Hunter’s behavior. Normally, Hunter would be all over someone like this nurse. Flirting and laughing and carrying on. But he’d ignored her. Maybe hurting Gemma had affected Hunter more than Kyle gave him credit for.

The nurse looked toward the door. “Hunter’s just so . . . I’m sorry.”

Kyle yawned and covered his mouth. He’d heard it all before. Hunter’s just so good looking, so much better in real life. Blah, blah, blah. Kyle certainly had his fair share of admirers, but Hunter scored most of the attention. And he was welcome to it.

In high school, they were barely noticed by girls. They were the pimply, music geeks. Not the sports stars or part of the in-crowd. How things had changed now that they were famous. Just a couple of kids from Montgomery, New Jersey, who’d got a lucky break.

Nicole pointed to one of the long, gray sofas underneath the large windows. “Why don’t you rest over there while Gemma’s sleeping? It looks like you could use it. There’s a spare pillow and blanket in the closet. I’ll let you know when she wakes up.”

“Thanks. I need to make a few quick phone calls, and then I might do that. It’s been a long night.” Kyle kissed Gemma’s forehead, walked over to the window overlooking 77th Street, and noticed the growing group of photographers and fans. Damn fools standing out in the freezing cold.

After the calls to Gemma’s girlfriends and her mother, he stretched out on the sofa and glanced at his watch. Four a.m. With a heavy sigh, he covered his eyes with his arm. Since coming off stage nothing had gone to plan. His moments alone with Gemma had been wasted, strangled by his nerves. He could perform in front of thousands of people without so much as a butterfly, but couldn’t tell Gemma how he felt about her when they were by themselves. He was such an idiot. He wouldn’t let his jitters get the better of him again. He’d talk to her soon with no more delays or interruptions. And hopefully, they could become something more than friends. God, he loved her. His mind raced again with what to say to her, but his adrenaline had run out. Exhaustion hit, and his eyelids grew heavy.

A quick nap was all he needed. Then he’d be ready. Ready for his world to change. He’d risk anything and everything for Gemma.

Even his heart.

Now all he needed was for her to wake up.