Page 65 of Reckless Love

“What does that mean?”

“There’s a care facility in Rockdown. Government subsidized, so it might even be the same as the nursing costs.”

“Dad…” I stare at him for a beat, but it seems incomprehensible to put him and my mother into a government care facility. “No.”

“You and Nessy should talk about it.”

“I’ll figure out how to get more in-home care.”

“We don’t have much of a life here either, son. Even with more care, that wouldn’t change. At least there, we’d have some other people around. Play some bingo. Sit in a garden. Maybe take an accessible bus out for the day. Talk to someone other than you, Nessy, each other, and whatever nurse is on rotation.”

“Being in this house is that terrible?” I stand up and pace the cramped living room. My parents had seemed happy enough, hadn’t they? But have I asked?

“I know you’ve been trying. You and Nessy have tried really hard. But I think it might be time to be realistic. You two will be able to have more of a life. Your mother and I will have more care, more socialization. If this security deal you’ve got with Owen works out, maybe we’ll even be able to go to one of those fancy care places later on. You’re not giving up on us, and it’s not a dead end.”

“Honestly,” I say with a deep sigh. “I can’t process this right now. But if you’re still serious about this tomorrow, I’ll make some calls, see what’s possible. I’m sorry.” I run a hand through my hair and let out a frustrated sigh. “I should have been checking in with you and Mom. A real check-in.”

“Not your fault,” my father says. “Your mom and I didn’t want to put more pressure on you and your sister. And we wanted to give this a fair shot. But you’ve been home quite a while now, and it still seems to me that we’re all living half a life.”

“Dad.” I breathe out his name at how hard that claim hits.

“Give it some serious thought. Now, get me into bed and then call Rachael,” my dad says, gesturing to the phone on the coffee table. “She always says any time of the day or night, so we’ll put that to the test. Then go see your mother. I’d be there with her if I could.”

I’ve just left Rachael on the couch and Dad in his bed at the house when my phone rings through the car’s speakers. Owen’s name appears on the dash, and I let out a sigh. Clearly Raul’s contacted him in the middle of the night to—rightfully—accuse me of assault.

“I know what you’re going to say,” I say as I answer, “and I don’t know if you want me to deny it or admit it.”

“What?” Owen says, and I can hear the tightness in his voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Shit’s gone very sideways. Brutal car accident with the Santos family. Hernandez is dead. Ava, Landon, and Raul have been transported to Tucker’s Town hospital. They might airlift one of them off the island—not sure which. Datu saw the whole thing.”

My stomach drops and then seems to zoom back up to lodge in my throat. “Ava? Landon?”

“Alive. They’re all alive as of right now. But Datu tells me it’s not a good scene. Can you get to the hospital? We need to manage this. Datu’s sure the accident was on purpose. No driver in the second car. The vehicle was controlled via remote. Police are on scene. Datu stayed there to see what he could find out, and I’m headed there now.”

A cold sweat breaks out, and I’m not sure what to say. After my conversation with my dad, I’m worried my sister did this. Or at least had a part in it. And if that’s true—if Landon or Ava die—there’s no way I’ll ever be able to forgive her. Her choices will tear our whole family apart. Nothing will ever be the same.

“You still there?” Owen asks.

“Yeah,” I manage to push out.

“Do you need me at the hospital instead?”

“No,” I say. “I can handle it.”

But I don’t know if I can.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Stephen

Iarrive at the hospital in record time. In the car, I called Datu to find out the police strongly suspect the workers on strike rigged a car to collide with Raul’s side of the vehicle. It’s unclear whether whoever organized it realized that Ava and Landon would also be in the car. Unconscionable if they did.

As I walk through the emergency-room door, Celia Tucker is speaking to a doctor. It’s not a surprise she’s here—she’s actually good in a crisis—but her presence makes it crystal clear that Ava and Landon are in serious condition. She doesn’t get out of her bed in the middle of the night for something minor.

“Stephen,” she says when she spots me. “Your blood type makes you a universal donor, doesn’t it?”

“Does Ava need blood?” Fear lands heavy on my limbs. Datu’s description of how the Santos vehicle spun and then somersaulted several times hadn’t eased any of my worry.

“Landon,” the doctor with Celia says.