Page 67 of Reckless Love

“Ava’s injuries?” I’m pushing my luck. The nurse shouldn’t be giving me all this information without confirmation that I am, in fact, family. But I’ve always been good at commanding authority in a room—getting people to do things or tell me things they wouldn’t otherwise. A skill set the Bellerive Police, Celia, and Owen have found valuable.

My heart is lodged in my throat as I wait for the nurse’s response. I need the truth, and only Ava can give it to me. But god, what if she’s so injured she’ll never be able to tell me?

“Collapsed lung. Broken ribs. Concussion.”

I sag with relief, but anger follows quickly behind. Ava and Landon could have died.

I clench the hand that isn’t hooked up to the IV and then release it, over and over, as though that simple motion will make me feel less murderous. Whatever happens to Raul, he deserves it.

But Ava and Landon? Unacceptable. They shouldn’t be punished for his wrongdoing.

I take deep breaths, hoping my heightened emotions aren’t as clear to her as they feel to me. The urge to find whoever did this, to make them pay, keeps surging.

But Ava and Landon aren’t the only reason I’m here.

“Lorraine Foster?” I ask. “Any chance you know where she was admitted?”

“How do you know her?”

“She’s my mother,” I say. “My sister, Vanessa, rode in the ambulance with her.”

“I can find out for you,” she says as she finishes inspecting all the connections and the blood that’s being collected. “My husband works at Reckless. He’ll be sad to hear about Mrs. Santos and her son.”

“Ms. Tucker,” I say mindlessly. “She didn’t take his name.” And for the first time, it dawns on me that her choice might be significant, that maybe she wasn’t just clinging to the Tucker name and everything it means on this island. Maybe she never went all in on being a Santos like I’ve accused her.

Wishful thinking, probably.

The reality is that she and her mother are just as likely to have cooked up some scheme to pass my child off as Raul’s to fund Ava’s perfume start-up.

If that’s true, I don’t know that I can ever forgive Ava. The weight of the world settles across my shoulders.

I’ll never forgive her.

My heart cracks at the pressure that awareness brings. She’ll have done the one thing I cannot get past.

Maybe she never expected me to come back.

But she didn’t have to pass my child off as Raul’s. She didn’t need to use Landon as a pawn. What she’d been doing previously to fund her business ventures was definitely the hard way, but all her siblings made those pathways work. She didn’t need to use my child to get Reckless funded.

When the nurse comes back to unhook me, she passes me a slip of paper. “Your mother is in room 306. Broken hip.”

“Thanks,” I say taking the paper.

“Can’t let you leave for at least fifteen minutes.” Then she spiels off a bunch of other things I should be doing to help my body cope with the blood loss before she passes me some cookies and a juice box.

“Any news?” I ask as I unwrap the cookies and take a bite. No part of me is hungry—I actually feel nauseous—but I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to. There are so many unknowns, and sitting here doesn’t bring closure to any of them.

“Celia Tucker’s in full mama bear mode with the staff.”

“I bet.” For all her faults, it’s probably true that Celia is taking people to task, making sure that Ava gets the best care possible. When Maren hurt herself in Chile, Celia flew there to be at her bedside, and she’s often poking around in the lives of her children. She’s not a good mom, protects her kids in ways that can punish them, but she’s not unfeeling. It’s just that at the top of her list of people and things to care about are herself and the Tucker family position in high society—pretty much in that order. If her kids or anyone jeopardize either of those things, she loses perspective. But no matter the situation or circumstances, Celia always believes she knows best. When I worked for her, she could be mildly infuriating.

Now that I might be on the receiving end of her extreme interference, she’s intolerable. If I see her, I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep my temper in check. If she’s really kept my son from me or has been part of some sort of cover-up, she’ll be the one begging me for forgiveness.

And god help whoever orchestrated this accident. I’m not sure any god will be able to interfere in my wrath.

“I want to see him. Landon.”

“I should check with Mrs. Tucker.” The nurse bites her lip.