Fractured Things - Samantha Lovelock Page 0,64

not even that I’m numb, it’s just I don’t seem to care either way, and that’s weird.

“Are you okay?” Sunday asks quietly.

“Yeah. Strangely I think I am.” I fold the sheet of paper in half and stuff it into my purse. “Hey, Callum is here, right? In this hospital?”

“On the floor that is normally reserved for the Founding Families, yes. Payne’s dad’s security firm has him under twenty-four-hour guard in case he wakes up from his coma and tries to do something stupid.”

“Can I ask you a huge favor?”

She nods.

“Here’s my keys. Can I meet you back at the car? I need to go see Callum. Just for a minute,” I explain. Sunday looks surprised.

“Are you sure? And if you are, are you sure you want to do it alone?” she asks.

“It’s not really something I want to do, it’s more something I need to do,” I answer, and she takes a good hard look into my eyes.

“Okay, but if you’re not outside in ten minutes, I’m coming back in for you.” She hugs me, and we leave the clinic after thanking the nurse. Sunday goes right toward the parking lot, and I go left toward the main administration desk. After speaking with the clerk there and armed with the room number and access code required to get into the unit, I find the correct elevator and push the button for the twelfth floor.

The doors whoosh open softly, allowing me to step out into something that looks more like a hotel than a hospital. Looking around in surprise, I walk up to the unit clerk seated behind a large desk. She asks for my code, and once I give it, she pushes a little button on the wall, and the sizable automatic door beside her swings open. Wandering down the long hallway, I stop when I reach room 1207.

This is it.

Pushing the door open, I’m shocked to see two people standing next to Callum’s bed, one on either side. If they were doctors or nurses, I wouldn’t have thought twice. But one of them is a blond man, a little older than I am, who I vaguely recognize though I’m also nearly positive I’ve never seen him before. And the other one is Holt Halliday. They both look up at me standing there, and though they smile politely, I feel like I’m interrupting something, and my instincts are screaming at me to leave. Spinning on my heel, I let the door fall closed behind me and sprint back down the hall to the elevator and then all the way out to the car. I slide into the driver’s seat, out of breath, and Sunday looks at me worriedly.

“What the hell are you running from?” she asks, looking back to where I came from.

“Nothing,” I wheeze, my breathing starting to return to normal. “Nothing at all.”

After dropping Sunday off at school to pick up her car, I go back to Tweedvale, my mind racing and my emotions a jumbled mess.

Callum Torsten is my biological father.

I am a child of rape.

Hali is my half-sister.

I’m not sure which of those things is worse. All of them are awful, but not entirely unexpected. Maybe that’s the reason they’re not the most pressing issue for me. What I really want to know is what was Holt Halliday doing in Callum’s hospital room? Who was the guy with him, and why did he look so familiar?

Cecily is out at some luncheon with one of the women’s groups she volunteers for, and Spry drove her, so I have the house to myself. I strip off my school uniform as soon as I get upstairs and crawl into my bed in my underwear and an old t-shirt, hugging my old, floppy, stuffed dog. My brain hurts, I’m overwhelmed, and I just need to sleep for a bit.

When I wake up, it’s dark outside. My aunt must have come in to check on me at some point—the lamp on my bedside table is on, and there’s a glass of water next to my phone.

God, I’m tired. The weary sort of tired that seeps into your bones.

Hauling my ass out of bed, I carry the glass of water to the wingback chair, taking a few gulps before setting it on the wide window sill in front of me. Pulling my legs up to my chest, I sit in my pretty teal colored chair and watch the darkness outside.

My anger trips over sadness on its way out the door, leaving me