A fresh wave of panic hits me and I scream. “I thought he was drunk! I was pissed off and I didn’t know—I didn’t realize.”
My brain’s on overload and it’s all I can do to get the hospital’s name out before I hang up on Gavin and throw open the door to a mob of reporters who make a human wall, blocking my exit.
They shout questions loaded with speculation and accusation: Overdose? Domestic violence? Attempted suicide?
I push and claw through them, running to hail a cab on Eleventh Avenue, but they follow me. I am the hunted.
Fuck Kim Archer. If her story hadn’t blown up, the media would have never been downstairs to see the aftermath of Tyler’s seizure. Fuck her very much.
I reach the hospital waiting room and Jayce is already there, pacing. He walks toward me rapidly, his face dark and tense, and I shrink back, afraid I’m about to get bawled out for failing to see the signs. For failing Tyler.
I duck my head. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You told me—”
Jayce wraps his thickly muscled arms around me in a crushing hug that muffles the rest of my apology. “Shut up, Stella. You were there for him. Like he needed you to be. That’s all that matters.”
Jayce finally lets go of me and holds me by my shoulders, looking me up and down from my damp, stringy hair to my mismatched T-shirt, shorts, and sandals.
“I thought he was drunk,” I whisper. “Because I was drunk. This morning. After I got fired.”
Jayce’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Hell of a day, huh? Well, what matters is that you were there. The shit with Kim Archer is just exploding, and if you hadn’t been there for him, if you’d believed her lies and left him…”
“Lies? He told me. He told me that was his kid.”
Jayce squints. “He couldn’t have. He doesn’t know. He hasn’t done the test.”
“But he said he gave her ten thousand dollars,” I whisper.
Jayce doesn’t deny it. “Look, Stella, when it comes to groupies, there are two kinds of easy. There’s easy as in, I-want-to-have-sex-with-a-rock-star, and easy as in, I-want-to-use-you-for-your-money. Kim was the second kind.”
My face flares with shame. “Which kind does Tyler think I am?” I’m afraid I know the answer. I’m living with him. I’m the freeloader.
Jayce tips my chin up. “Don’t you dare. Don’t even think that. You were never easy, Stella. You were a challenge. He called you the sadder-but-wiser girl. Said it was from some song.”
I nod. “He sang it to me.”
“See? You were his hard-to-get girl,” Jayce says. I shake my head, thinking of the times I threw myself at Tyler and he turned me down. “You don’t believe me? You don’t know how much he complained about wanting to see you again after that first night. He thought you hated him.”
“I did, sort of,” I confess. “I thought he manipulated me.”
Jayce chuckles. “He was just freaked out about getting too close to you with Kim’s lawyers sniffing around. But then he managed to piss you off again and he thought he’d blown his last chance. If you hadn’t come to our Rockwood concert, I was going to track you down and force you two to apologize to each other.”
“You were?” Hope creeps into my voice, the push-pull of my first few meetings with Tyler finally starting to make sense.
“Well, it was a thought. Until we found out you were homeless and you had to crash with him. I figured getting you two under one roof would force things to work out. And they did.” Jayce grins, as if I’ve already got my happily ever after instead of a stark waiting room that seems more crowded by the moment.
Dave and Kristina are a few yards away, talking with Gavin and Beryl. A well-dressed woman approaches them but Dave barks something short and sharp at her and she retreats.
Another reporter tries to question them and is rebuffed. Dave signals to hospital security and they round up the reporters who slunk into the waiting room.
“Friends and family only,” I hear the guard repeat. “Media inquiries to our public affairs office.”
A white-coated doctor enters the waiting room from a side door. “Who’s here for Tyler?”
When the six of us respond in unison I can tell it overwhelms her. She tucks her ash-blonde hair behind her ears and clears her throat.
“He’s awake,” she starts, and I feel my knees crumple. Jayce’s arm snaps around my waist to steady me and relief floods my veins. Awake might be the most beautiful word spoken today.
The doctor explains that Tyler’s diabetic seizure caused him to bite most of the way through his tongue. I cringe with this revelation; that explains the blood.
Jayce asks several questions about Tyler’s glucose levels and I can tell he knows more about diabetes than anyone else in the band.
The doctor tells us Tyler’s tongue will heal, but right now he shouldn’t be talking much. She adds he can take visitors two at a time.
Jayce grabs my hand and steps forward, looking to Gavin and Dave for permission to go first. Dave nods.
Tyler’s face is mostly cleaned of blood and he wears a faded green hospital gown, the kind that makes everyone look sicker than they are. When he sees us, his sad eyes light up.
“Ace! Ella!” He drops the first consonants in our names and I giggle, moving to the side of the bed where I can lace my fingers in his again. His hand is cool and I’m grateful for his reassuring squeeze.
“I’d bitch you out for letting your blood sugar get so low, but you’ve already heard my speech,” Jayce says to Tyler. To me, he adds, “One time in Pittsburgh he got low and decided to drive to the store to get honey. Like that was a good idea—he was so messed up he would have made a drunk driver look sharp behind the wheel.”
Tyler grimaces and I hate that Jayce is rubbing it in. But Jayce puts a hand on Tyler’s arm, a brotherly gesture of solidarity. “She’s got to hear this, buddy. She was there for you when you needed her and she deserves to know what we’re up against.”
Jayce continues, “I yelled at him and jumped on the hood of his truck as he was pulling out of the driveway. Pounded on it until he stopped.”
“Lef a den,” Tyler adds.
“More than one dent. I hauled him out of the truck and made him drink juice until he could see straight.” Jayce gives Tyler a soft punch in the arm. “So Stella’s in the club now. The I-rescued-Tyler club. Don’t piss her off too much because I think she’s a keeper.”
I blush and Jayce adds, “I’ll leave you guys alone for a minute before I send in the others.”
Jayce pushes open the curtain and turns back to me. “Go easy on him, Stella. Wounded tongue. Don’t let him over-exert himself.” I hear his cackling laugh as the curtain drops back into place.
Tyler pulls me closer. Tubes from an intravenous drip snake from the back of one of his hands and I cringe.
Tyler drops my hands and caresses my face, tucking my hair behind my ears, tracing my jawbone, stroking my neck and throat. His eyes are creased with emotion that I can’t quite decipher, but his touch speaks of yearning and tenderness.
Tears leak from the corner of my eyes and Tyler’s fingers smooth them across my cheeks. We plunge into a without-words moment and I’m lost and found again, the intensity of his eyes on mine so many times greater than our connection across a concert stage or a bed.
He isn’t saying it, but I know. I know he loves me, as fiercely and wildly as I love him back. As much as I would do anything for him—protect him, comfort him—he would do the same for me. He already has.
When my heart feels so full of him it could explode, I press my lips to his forehead and inhale the smell of his hair. I kiss down his temple to his cheek, across his feathery lashes, and leave one silly kiss on the tip of his nose. His tongue is swollen in his slightly open mouth, but he grins back at me, his hand finding mine again to squeeze.