Chapter 11 Having a Concussion

The rain made it hard for Dalton to see clearly, and before he could make out the license plate, the car drove away.

Lydia caught up with him, umbrella in hand. “Dalton, what’s wrong?”

He turned back to her, and she quickly held the umbrella over him, leaving herself exposed to the rain. In that moment, he saw a flash of Meryl’s old selflessness in her actions. Meryl used to do such things, too. Shaking his head, he thought, “Why am I thinking about Meryl? I don’t even love her.”

Seeing Lydia shivering, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“Do you think Meryl is really serious about calling off the engagement?” she asked quietly.

“Not a chance,” Dalton said, pulling her closer. “Meryl’s just trying to get my attention. She can’t stay away from me for long.”

“But she seemed so angry tonight,” Lydia murmured, biting her lip. “Maybe you should call her and see where she went?”

Dalton shook his head dismissively. “There’s no need. She’ll come around and apologize.”

He had never been the one to call Meryl first. In their relationship, she was always the one to reach out, no matter who was at fault. She was the one who always apologized, and he was used to it.

The weather was ominous and dark. Thunder and lightning filled the sky, making it seem like it was being torn apart.

Walter stood by the bedside of the unconscious woman and spoke softly, “Ms. Stone has a concussion. The doctor said she might need to stay in the hospital for a few more days for observation.”

Chandler’s jaw tightened as he kept his eyes on Meryl’s ankle. Walter glanced at it briefly, then continued, “Her ankle was cut by porcelain shards. The treatment was delayed, so the scar might be permanent, but the bone is fine.”

Chandler’s face was unreadable, but the cold aura around him was palpable.

Meryl lay there, looking frail and defeated. Though her soaked clothes had been changed, her thin frame looked lifeless. The slap mark on her pale face was stark and unsettling. It must have hurt a lot.

Chandler pulled out a cigarette and put it to his lips, but before lighting it, he decided against it, not wanting to affect Meryl.

“Mr. Paltrow is still waiting for you,” Walter reminded him softly, checking the time. “If you don’t go, they’re leaving soon.”

“Forget it. I’m not going.” Chandler sat down by the bed. “I’m staying here tonight.”

Walter was about to say something when Chandler’s phone rang. He glanced at Meryl, who was restless in her sleep, and stepped into the hallway to take the call.

Dante Paltrow’s voice boomed through the phone. “Chandler, what’s the deal with you leaving without a word? People will think you got whisked away by a woman.”

Chandler smirked. “Well, I did. Jealous?”

“What kind of dream are you living in?” Dante chuckled, teasing, “You really think that after a few years in the army, women are just gonna be throwing themselves at you? Get real, man.”

Chandler remained silent, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He and Dante had been friends since childhood, so Dante knew he could joke like this.

“Get over here, we’re all waiting for you,” Dante urged. “Oh, and your nephew’s here too.”

Chandler’s eyes narrowed. “Dalton?”

“Yeah. The whole mess at the Stone Villa is all over the place. Your nephew’s got nerves of steel, showing up here for a drink after all that.”

A dark shadow crossed Chandler’s face, his smile cold and devoid of humor.

“Wait for me. I’m coming right now.”