Connection | 18+

Chapter Eight

   The officer’s radio crackles to life, pulling him away from his rambling. “Hold on a second,” he says, glancing at the device clipped to his belt.

   He steps out into the hallway, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the sterile environment of the cabin like an investigation room.

   Time seems to stretch, each second feeling like an eternity as I sit there, fingers fidgeting nervously in my lap.

   After a few painful moments that felt like an hour or two, the officer returns, his expression more serious. “Your guardian is here.”

   I follow behind the officer, hoping that Daniel is fine. I squint against the sound of people yelling and whatnot.

   Then I see him—what?

   What the fuck is Ethan doing here?

   Ethan was standing against the desk in all his glory, his usual calm demeanor replaced by an edge of concern and…anger.

   “Olivia,” he says, his voice a mix of relief and something else I can’t quite place. He pushes off the desk and walks toward me, his gaze assessing. “I've been calling for five hours and you end up here?”

   It has been five fucking hours?

   Ethan grabs my arm, his touch firm but controlled as he examines the bruises and cuts.

   The officer extends his hand for a handshake but Ethan ignores him.

   “You know,” he says, his voice calm but sharp, “this can lead to a negligence lawsuit.” He turns his gaze to the officer, eyes hard. “Pray there’s no infection, or it won’t be good for you.” His words carry weight, each one sinking into the tense silence in the room.

   The officer shifts uncomfortably, and I can feel Ethan's anger simmering beneath his cool exterior.

    The officer lowers his hand, his voice slightly clipped. “You must be the guardian we spoke with on the phone.”

   “I am,” Ethan replies curtly.

   The officer's expression tightens as his gaze flicks between Ethan and me, clearly unsettled by Ethan’s cold dismissal.

   My eyes widen, both at Ethan's blatant disregard for the officer and at what he’s just revealed.

   Guardian?

   The tension thickens in the air, and my breath becomes shallow as I realize Ethan’s making this worse. What was the point of all my tears, excuses, and my A-level acting—if it only led to more trouble?

   The officer’s expression hardens. “She was involved in an accident. She crashed her car—twice—then fled the scene. When we apprehended her, she attacked two of our officers, then we ran a swab test. She was under the influence of drugs. Now she refuses and says that she was drugged.”

   Ethan’s scowl deepens, his frustration now visible. “So, let me get this straight. She was in a crash—twice—and instead of immediately getting her medical attention for potential head injuries or broken bones, you brought her here?” His voice sharpens with every word. “I need to speak to the senior officer in charge. Now.”

   The officer stiffens, clearly not used to being spoken to that way, but he holds his ground.

   “We followed protocol, sir. We secured the scene, and she was stable. Medical attention was offered, but she refused and punched the one of the officers. ”

   Ethan's jaw tightens as he glances at me, his frustration palpable. “Of course she did,” he mutters under his breath, then louder, “Get your senior officer. Now.”