The London Paradigm (book 4 of Adopted by the Josephs)

41. Tyler

The hospital let us go a few hours later and asked me to keep an eye out for signs of a concussion. Samantha was tired, but no more so than anyone would be after a seizure, stitches and spending time in an emergency room. She wasn't nauseated or dizzy. And some Advil had taken the edge off her headache and the pain from the stitches.

Josh picked us up because by the time they let us go, Rosie was asleep and Jenna couldn't leave her.

"Hey there String Bean!" Josh said brightly, as Samantha climbed into the back seat.

"Hi Uncle Josh," she said, flatly.

Josh looked at me with concern.

"She's really tired," I said, with a look I hope he knew meant I'd fill him in later.

There was even more press outside the house when Josh pulled up. I heard Samantha curse under her breath. She then lay down on the backseat and hid her face.

She'd gotten used to the small amount of press that sometimes showed up around the house before this started. But now that she was the centre of attention, it was weighing on her.

We got through the press to the gate, which Josh had an opener for. He drove in and up to the house. Samantha slammed out of the car and into the house.

"Samantha!" I heard Jenna say as I got into the house. "Rosie is sleeping. Please try to be a bit quieter."

I heard Samantha's bedroom door close, not entirely quietly.

Josh came into the house with me.

"What's up with Sam, besides the obvious?" Jenna asked.

I sighed.

"The press outside is... there's more."

Jenna frowned.

"So, what's going on with Sam? What happened?" Josh asked.

"We were playing basketball and she had a seizure. She hit her head on the concrete and it was bleeding. I didn't know what was happening so we called an ambulance. She needed stitches and we have to keep an eye out for concussion."

"She doesn't look so great, Tyler," Josh said. "She's never been very big, but she looks a lot skinnier than she did when she came home from London."

"I know," I said. "I hadn't really noticed until we were playing basketball. And then in the hospital. She told Jenna she can't eat. She's so beyond stressed from all this that Mark has started."

"Have you told your lawyer?"

"Not yet. But I'm going to. Josh, I think Mark is killing her. I don't think he means to, but the stress, it's literally killing her. She doesn't sleep. When she does, she's plagued with nightmares. Bad ones. Like when we got her back from Stanley."

"Do you want us to take her for a few days? Maybe over the weekend? We'll deal with the nightmares, and maybe she can get a break from the press?"

"I'll ask her. She might like that. I don't want her to think we're sending her away. I want her to know it's for her mental health that a change of scenery might be nice. It's killing me to see how much she's really been struggling. When she was in the hospital gown, I could see her ribs and every bone in her spine. She's wasting away."

"Let us ask her. Make it an invite rather than a suggestion. She'll probably take it better that way. And you guys can come over for dinner maybe and that way it'll be more like a sleepover for her than feeling like you're sending her away."

"That's an even better idea. Spoil her. Let her eat whatever as long as she boluses. I don't care if all she eats is chips and ice cream all weekend. I can't stand seeing what's happening to her physically. I think I'm going to call Doc too. She may need him."

"That's a good idea," Josh said.

We talked for a little bit longer and then Josh headed home. I sat on the sofa beside Jenna who rubbed my back.

"We will get through this, Tyler," she said. "All of us."

"Will Samantha?" I asked. "And will she make it through this intact? Mark lied to her. He betrayed her trust and now her mental and her physical health are suffering. How much more can she take, Jenna? Even if we win the case, are we going to lose her anyway?"

Tears fell from my eyes.

"Dad?" I heard Samantha's small voice behind me. I hadn't heard her come downstairs. I wiped my eyes.

"Hey, Sam," I said, indicating for her to come over. She did and sat beside me on the couch and wrapped me in a hug and rested her head on my shoulder.

"Dad," she said again.

"Yes, my sweet girl?" I asked, rubbing her arm.

"I'm scared," she said.

"What are you scared of, baby cakes?"

"I don't know. Everything sort of. I'm scared Mark will win. I'm scared my seizures are getting worse. I'm scared that I can't eat properly and my diabetes is getting bad. I'm scared to go to sleep because of the nightmares but I'm scared to stay awake because it causes me to have seizures. I'm scared to go to school because I'm in the news all the time and I'm afraid of the press being around all the time."

"Oh baby," I said, tears falling freely from my eyes. "I wish I could hide all of this from you."

"Dad, you know I say that hate is a strong word?"

"I do,"

"I hate Mark."