He stormed to the door, not sure what he would do. Leave not only the hospital but Strawberry Valley, hoping distance would ease the pain, make him forget? Drink himself into a coma? Sneak into her room? Hunt down Tawny, Charlene and Scott—hurt them?
Arms banded around him, steel bands he would have to fight to break through. West and Jase had surrounded him, offering comfort.
He drew on their strength, and in a moment of startling clarity, he knew what he had to do. “I’ve got to go,” he said, wrenching free of his friends.
“Beck, man. Don’t leave,” Jase said. “Stay. For her.”
West grabbed his wrist. “If you’re thinking about going after Tawny and Charlene, don’t. If you’re locked behind bars—”
“Don’t you see?” He whirled on them, taking a moment to explain because he owed them and didn’t want them to worry. “I’ve always expected the worst from everyone, so I’ve always cut and run. Except with you two, because I saw myself in you. But I see myself in her, too. I see her pain and her need to connect—needs I share—and I’m not going to hold anything back anymore. I’m not going to worry about the future, or what will or will not happen. I’m going to do what’s right, what I should have done the moment I met Harlow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
HARLOW BLINKED RAPIDLY to clear the fog currently obscuring her vision. The lights in the room were too bright, tears dried and crusted around her burning eyes. Her ears picked up a slow beep, beep, and when she turned her head, she found a bank of machines with flashing lights and numbers, connected to tubes, and the tubes were connected to her arms. A woman and a man she’d never met stood beside her bed, discussing heart rate and vitals.
She frowned. She was in a hospital?
Yeah. Made sense. She remembered throwing up on Mayor Trueman and being carried away from the festival in Beck’s arms. Now there was a strange heaviness to her limbs, a shakiness she wasn’t used to experiencing.
“Beck,” she said. Or rather, tried to say. Her throat was sore, her voice nothing more than a whisper.
The man in the lab coat heard her, however, and patted her hand. “Harlow, I’m Dr. Lowe. You’re at St. Joseph’s hospital in Oklahoma City, and you’ve been very sick. We removed a tube from your throat, which is why you’re having a bit of trouble speaking. But don’t worry, the discomfort will pass.”
A tube down her throat—she’d needed help breathing?
“Where’s Beck?” She needed Beck.
“We’ll talk about him in a minute,” Dr. Lowe said. He propped his hip against the side of her bed. He wasn’t very tall, and was a bit on the heavy side, his features stern. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“I was sick.”
“Not just sick. Harlow, you were poisoned. Thankfully, you’ve responded to the medications very well. You’ll make a full recovery with no lasting damage.”
Her mind got stuck on a single word. “Poisoned?” But...but...how? And by whom? So few people hated her now. Right? And she’d done nothing to anger anyone. Had she?
“It was a prank gone horribly wrong, apparently. Someone from your hometown put eyedrops in your tea. You slipped into a coma four days ago.”
Wait, wait, wait. “I don’t understand.” Four days?
“When confronted by your police chief, the culprits confessed to their crimes. I don’t remember their names, I’m sorry. There were two women and a man. They’ve been charged with contaminating a substance for human consumption. They’re lucky they weren’t charged with attempted murder.”
“Beck,” she croaked. “Where is he?” He had to be worried. “I want to see him.”
The doctor’s expression remained impassive. “Let us finish checking your vitals, all right?”
For the next half hour, she was poked and prodded and questioned, and she did her best to keep her temper in check. Beck had to be more than worried about her; he had to be freaking out. As poorly as he’d handled her vomiting, she couldn’t imagine what the coma had done to him.
Finally the exam ended, and the medical staff filed out of the room.
“Don’t forget to send in Beck,” she called.
The doctor stopped in the doorway. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Miss Glass, but there isn’t anyone in the waiting room for you.”
Harlow lay in the bed, heart stuttering in her chest. No one was out there? Truly? “Maybe he’s in the cafeteria?”
His half smile was not reassuring. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it.” He shut the door with a soft click. “Give him time. He’ll arrive soon enough.”
No way Beck would have left her, even for a minute. Unless the thought of losing her—as he’d lost so many other people in his life—had pushed him over the edge. He might have abandoned her in an effort to protect himself.
No way in hell. She wasn’t going to think the worst of the man she loved and trusted with her fragile heart. But she was going to find him.
She maneuvered her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her knees instantly buckled, her weight too much to hold, and if not for the bedrail, she would have toppled. When she felt more stable, she transferred her grip to the pole with her IV and catheter bags. Her paper-thin gown gaped in the back, but she couldn’t hold it closed and hold herself up.
With as much dignity as she could muster considering her backside was bared, she worked her way to the door, the hallway, calling, “Beck! Beck!”