Unfiended

Chapter 8

Between her height and her aura of imposing confidence, Charlotte Flair shouldn't have been an easy person to miss, but Seth didn't realize she was in the waiting area with him until she nudged his arm. "Hey," she said gently, holding out a cup of coffee. "You've probably had a dozen of these already, but I needed one so I thought you might too."

Seth glanced over at the table, which held four different take-out cups at various stages of consumption. A kind nurse had found him a waiting area away from the general public so he didn't have to worry about paparazzi-style photos being taken, but he almost wished he was in the regular hustle and bustle of the hospital. He had explained Becky's relevant history—her concussion, her various injuries, her mysterious disappearance—to the doctor and Becky was currently undergoing a battery of tests, and Seth dreaded the results of every single one. If they showed something fatal or irreversible, he would feel like they had been robbed of their chance to live a life together before they had ever really started; if the tests revealed nothing, however, it was almost worse, because then he still had no idea what was plaguing her.

Charlotte put his new coffee on the table and sat beside him. "Sorry I didn't get here sooner. I didn't want to speed too much and get pulled over." She took a long sip of her coffee and sighed. "So . . . any word yet?"

Seth shook his head. "Nothing major, anyway. Her blood work came back negative for any common drugs or poisons. There was no obvious head trauma, but they're still going to do a CAT scan, MRI, all that." He downed the last of one of his coffees gone cold and tried not to wince. "She . . . was okay on the way here, but she started acting up a bit when they tried to give her an IV, so they had to sedate her." He wrapped his hands around the fresh cup of coffee, relishing the heat. "Probably for the best, really. It'll make the CAT scan and all that easier too. . . ."

"Seth. . . ." He and Charlotte weren't really on hugging terms—they were friendly enough, but their bond was mostly through Becky—but she leaned over and embraced him anyway. "You're doing the best you can. No one knows what's going on—not even doctors." As she sat back, Charlotte put a hand to her throat. "If you think having me here will upset her," she added, "I can leave. I can go back to Chicago and just call for updates. . . ."

"No. It's good that you're here. Familiar faces might help." He knew what Charlotte's worry was and given the repeat performance of the video he had just endured, he didn't really blame her. As they drank their coffees, Seth told her what he had discovered when he got home. Had there been more to the fire alarm fiasco at Black and Brave? He hadn't slowed down enough to consider that until now. "I never should have kept that video on my phone. I just figured it would be handy that way if. . . ." He gestured at the hospital walls. "If something happened. And now something happened because of the video."

"And you've been changing your passcode frequently?" Charlotte asked. "I don't know how Becks would have made the video broadcast through the whole house, but if she got in your phone. . . ."

Seth nodded. "I'm pretty sure I'm running out of number combinations, but I don't want to use the facial recognition either. I'm getting to the point where I barely remember the code." He leaned back and rubbed at his eyes. It was still afternoon and he felt utterly exhausted. "I just want to help her, Char, however I can. If . . . if that means us taking a break for a bit—" He couldn't bring himself to even think about that, let alone say it, and he took a long swallow of hot coffee to scorch the words off his tongue. "Whatever I have to do," he continued, trying to keep his voice firm, "I'll do it. But I don't think she should be left alone either."

Charlotte shut her eyes for a moment. "And we can't bounce her from house to house, because she'll see right through that. I was really hoping we wouldn't have to tell her family everything, but—"