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Keeping my distance from Cal and his baby-bride-to-be, I lingered in the corridor of the ER of St. Catherine's General in Lake Charles, waiting for an update and wondering why the hell I cared.
Because she tried to kill herself, asshole.
Because the little girl you've spent most of your life adoring just flung herself off a thirty-foot tree.
Because it's your fault…
Numb, I leaned against the vending machine and folded my arms across my chest, trying not to look imposing and blend in with the crowd.
At 6'3, with my physical size, social status, and last name, being invisible wasn't an easy thing to do, but I tried my best to be as unimposing as possible.
Bright red blood was streaked across my white shirt and from the gawks and stares I'd been receiving from both staff and patients, I knew the rumor mill would be going crazy right about now.
The town of Pocketful had a population of just under five thousand residents, over half of which were employed by the town's two most influential families.
The Capaldis and the Dillons.
I was the last surviving heir to the Capaldi fortune and the girl I'd carried in here, the girl whose blood was smeared all over my body, was the sole heir to the Dillon fortune.
Our fathers were entwined in business, and I knew the people around me were more than aware of the bad blood between us.
Shit, they probably thought that I'd tried to kill Romi Dillon. God knows I'd threatened it often enough since Chris's death.
But this was all Romi.
She willingly let go of the ladder.
She fucking threw herself out of the treehouse.
She quit on life.
My heart spazzed out at the thought, beating erratically in my chest, and I had to move or I knew I would blow up.
Completely fucking reeling, I paced the halls with my head spinning and my chest constricting to the point where I felt like I needed to have a doctor come check me out because it couldn’t be normal.
"I'm not a fucking killer! Yes, I was behind the wheel that night. Yes, I ran us off the road. And yes, I'm responsible for the wreck, but I did what I had to. I did exactly what he told me to…"
"I was your best friend. I was Chris's best friend. I spent my entire life adoring ya'll. Why would I intentionally hurt either one of you?"
Her words were in my head and I didn’t know what to think anymore. I had no goddamn clue how to handle the grief strangling me daily.
I hadn't felt my heart beat in my chest since I watched the undertakers lower my brother's casket into the ground last Christmas, but I felt it today, screaming and slamming wildly against my ribcage, when I watched Romi Dillon fall from the sky.
Jesus, I wanted justice more than anything for Chris, but Romi dying and taking her secrets to the grave with her?
No.
I didn’t want that.
I convinced myself that was why I practically fell out of the damn tree in my desperate bid to get to her.
I convinced myself that was why I dropped to my knees and breathed air into her lungs and pumped her heart with my own bare hands until she came back to me and could do it for herself.
And it was why, after I had her breathing stabilized, I scooped her into my arms and ran for help.
I refused to acknowledge any other motive. The love and affection I once felt for the girl snuffed out and died the night the police knocked on my door and told me about my brother.
When Sheriff Steiner told me that they arrested Romi Dillion, my best friend and the love of my life, for unintentional vehicular manslaughter, resulting in the death of the other love of my life, the only person on this planet with the Capaldi name that had ever given a damn about me, the pain and betrayal I'd felt was indescribable…
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's no mistake," the Sheriff said, addressing my mother, as he stood in our doorway with his hat in his hands. "One of my deputies confirmed that it was Chris, but we will still need a member of the family to go and identify the body."
Mama started to scream as she backed up against the wall and slowly sank to the floor. "No, no, no, no!"
"Mama!" Choking out a sob, I ran to help her only to halt when she kicked and lashed at me. "Mama, it's okay. There has to be some mistake. It can't be Chris. I'll go down there myself and prove it's not him –"
"Don’t you dare touch me!" she screamed, clawing and pulling at her hair. "You are only here because of your father's generous nature and for no other reason. I don’t want you. Do you hear me? I've never wanted you! Not in my house or my life!" Kicking out at me, she wailed loudly. "Oh, God, not Chris…" Releasing another violent scream, she rocked back and forth. "Please not my baby."
Trembling, I slowly backed away from her and turned to the Sheriff. "Romi Dillon." Breathing hard, I swallowed down my terror and said, "She would have been with Chris tonight." My heart hammered harder in my chest. "They left here together earlier." Struggling to breathe, I whispered, "Please tell me she's okay."
"Romi? Fucking Romi?" Mama screamed at the top of her lungs. "Your brother's dead and all you can think about is that damn girl!"
"Please, Sheriff," I squeezed out, ignoring Mama's outburst and focusing all of my attention on him. "Tell me that Romi's okay."
"Romi is fine, Holden," Sheriff Steiner replied. "She was taken into custody earlier. She's a little banged up, but she'll survive."
"Oh, thank God," I strangled out before quickly backpedaling. "Wait." My brows furrowed and my heart stopped. "What do you mean she was taken into custody?"
"She was arrested on suspicion of unintentional vehicular manslaughter, resulting in death," he explained. "There were no tire marks, Holden. No evidence of any attempt to stop." Keeping his voice low, he added, "Romi Dillon was driving the car that killed your brother..."
And just like that, I had morphed into a walking, breathing volcano, with my affection for the girl turning cold and dormant.
Like the second stage in volcanic life, I buried my feelings for her deep down in the core of my magma chamber and covered them up with my own version of molten lava. Sure, my weakness for Romi escaped me every once in a while, like pummels of toxic ash and smoke escaping from my vent, but I never erupted – I never allowed the full weight of my feelings to escape and destroy me.
Therefore, getting my brother's killer to the hospital had been for my own selfish reasons and nothing else. Romi needed to live because I needed the truth. If she died, Chris's justice died with her and I couldn’t live with that.
"Holden." My father's voice filled my ears and I spun around, grateful to find him barreling through the hospital.
Even in his late-forties, Christopher Capaldi Sr. was a formidable force to be reckoned with. Tall and strong and excessively powerful, he made Cal look like a weathered old man, even though they were the same age.
Flanked by several members of his security detail, my father exuded dominance in his custom Armani suit as he brushed through hospital security, parting the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea.
"Dad." Feeling my shoulders sag in relief, I walked straight for him, not stopping until I was standing in front of him. He was the same height as me, the only resemblance we shared, and I couldn’t stop myself from dropping my head on his shoulder.
I felt weak and confused and desperately needed comfort from the only coherent parent I had right now. Mama was still bedbound, still popping anti-depressants and drowning in grief and vodka – not that it mattered if she wasn't. Hard as he was, and without Chris around to guide me, my father was all I had now.
I didn’t try to hug him, nor did I expect him to hold me in return. He didn’t tolerate open displays of affection from anyone, much less his greatest disappointment, and I knew that the hand roughly cupping the back of my head was all the affection he was going to offer me. For me, in this moment, it was more than enough.
"Are you injured?" he asked, dropping his hand from my head to rest in his pocket.
"No." I shook my head and straightened. "I'm fine."
"And Romi?"
I flinched when he said her name so easily. I couldn’t figure out how he could even ask after her. After all, the girl was responsible for his son's death.
"She's out of surgery. It went well. She's in recovery," I replied. "Fell out of the treehouse and did a number on herself." I shrugged, forcing myself not to feel anything. "Busted her knee up pretty good from what I could see."
"You were with her when it happened?"
Guilt-ridden to be caught associating with the enemy, I nodded.
"Did you push her?" was his next question, and he asked it in such a casual, non-committal way that my head snapped up.
"What?"
"Romi," he said calmly. "Did you push her?"
"No," I choked out, feeling a little insulted. "Of course I didn’t push her."
"But you were with her when she fell and brought her to the hospital?"
"Yeah." I nodded again, feeling worse than ever. "I couldn’t just leave her there to bleed out –" I stopped short and blew out a shaky breath. "I had no choice." I shrugged, feeling helpless. "She was bleeding badly." I shook my head, anxious at the memory. "There was so much blood, Dad, and I…I…I just couldn't walk away, okay?"
My father was motionless for a beat, clearly thinking hard about the situation.
"Good," he finally said, reaching up to give my shoulder a solid squeeze. "You did the right thing."
I had expected just about anything else to come from his mouth. "I did?"
Another clipped nod. "Think about how it would look if people found out that you were with her when she fell and didn’t help. Getting her help was smart. Bringing her to the hospital yourself was smarter. I'm proud of you."
Stepping around me, he gestured for me to walk with him.
Stunned, I did just that.
"It would have been a public relations disaster," he continued. "If you left her there and she died, you would have been under suspicion. Another inquest so soon after Chris would have killed your mother." Stopping short, he turned to look at me. "Has Sheriff Steiner stopped by to see her yet?"
I nodded. "Yeah, she was still in surgery, but I gave him and the deputy my statement."
"Good," he said, rubbing his jaw as we walked. "I'll talk to Cal – make sure that Romi remembers things the same way as you do."
The casual way he said it had my hackles rising. "Dad, I didn’t do anything to her."
"And she'll say the same when she wakes up?"
"Yes," I bit out. "Because it's the truth."
"Well, you better make sure that's the case," he replied. "Because you have a reputation in this town for being violent. You would have a record as long as your arm if you were any other man's son. And let's not forget the fact that you've been shaking up leaves for months when it comes to that girl."
"I still didn’t do anything," I ground out, bristling.
"Don't forget that I know you, Holden," he countered coolly. "Like the back of my hand. And because I know you so well, I am fully aware that you weren't sitting in a treehouse with Romi for the fun of it. It's as clear as the nose on your face that you had an ulterior motive for being alone with her."
I stiffened, thinking about how fucking stupid I'd acted.
Jesus, was that why she jumped?
I'd threatened to hurt her, but we both knew that was bullshit – she'd said as much.
I paled at the thought.
"Holden." My father narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," I replied, but my tone lacked its earlier conviction. "I didn’t push her, okay?"
"Whatever you did, fix it," he snapped. "Make it better. Make it gone. Make her not talk."
"I threatened to hurt her," I confessed, my voice torn, words just loud enough for my father to hear. "Obviously I didn’t mean it," I hurried to add. "I never would’ve gone through with it and she knows it."
"And?"
I flinched.
"And, Holden?" Dad pushed.
"I touched her," I confessed.
"Evaluate."
"I got her on her back, okay!" I snapped, flustered. "Fuck."
"You idiot."
"I didn’t force her," I hurried to defend myself. "She was more than willing." As I heard the words come out of my own mouth, a surge of disgust filled me and I hung my head in shame. "I was just trying to coax her into talking."
"Talking?"
"Yeah." I nodded, feeling desperate. "I know there's more to the night Chris died than she's saying."
My father's eyes darkened and his face took on that stern look, the one that masked his pain. "Not this again, Holden."
"Something happened that night, Dad," I argued, sounding like a broken record even to my own ears. "I know you don’t believe me and the lawyers don’t wanna hear it, but I know I'm right. Those marks on his body. His injuries –" my voice broke off and I had to inhale several calming breaths before I could speak again. "They don’t add up." My hands shook as I desperately tried to get my point across to my father. "I think the coroner made a mistake with his report. Dad, I think…I think he was dead before she crashed."