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Barry was about to say something, no doubt to get on T’s case—’cause that was fun—but we were interrupted by a knock on the door. Someone could clearly not read, considering the massive “DO NOT DISTURB” sign on the door.
T was closest, so he went over and opened the door. “Aye?” He opened it wider, and I did a double take.
What the jizzy fuck? It was Santiago! And Gael!
“Hi!” I lit up, surprised and confused as hell, but always happy to see them. “Why are you here, how did you find me, and…” I trailed off when I registered the somber look on Santiago’s face. Paired with Gael’s expression of worry. Before I even knew it, I shot right up, my stomach tightening. “What’s wrong?”
Santiago took a step forward and nodded subtly for me to follow. “You need to come with us, Noa.”
No.
I swallowed hard as a handful of worst-case scenarios ran through my head and filled me with dread. Daddy had been in another accident, Mom had overdosed, something was very wrong with Lucian, Cam—oh God, Cameron. Nothing could be wrong with any of them!
My ears started ringing, and I vaguely registered T asking if I “knew them,” as in Santiago and Gael, and Barry wondered if I needed anything. Um, yeah, some fucking answers. And reassurances. Everyone was okay, right?
“Can you fucking tell me what’s happened?” I asked and snatched up my tee and hoodie.
“It’s Lucian—he’s in the hospital,” Santiago replied.
No, no, no, no, no!
The ringing in my ears morphed into a low, rushing noise that drowned out a flurry of responses from my bandmates. But I got the gist. Hell, just go, lad. Keep us posted. I didn’t recall making a single move, but then I was out in the corridor that was lined with sticker-littered doors to other rehearsal rooms.
Uncle Lucian is fine!
Santiago put a hand on my back, and I flinched sideways and quickly put on my T-shirt and hoodie. No fucking sympathy, thanks. Lucian was okay. He’d promised me.
“He promised me he was okay,” I heard myself whisper.
Just yesterday, and a few days before—he’d assured me he was okay and that Cameron and KC were overreacting. So, what was it? Why was he in the hospital? He was taking his blood pressure medicine, wasn’t he?
“What happened?” My voice came out dull and flat, and I couldn’t come to grips with what I was feeling. Like…I felt kind of numb and empty? The dread lurked in the background—or, rather, in the pit of my stomach. But I always said that the strongest emotions bubbled up in your throat, ’cause they were so forceful, you either had to laugh or cry or choke or gasp or… Whatever. I had no emotions in my throat, so Lucian was fine. I could still hear his chuckle against my neck after I’d snuck him a tasty lunch to his office. We really liked to have lunch together.
It’d become our thing.
“I may be known as the Master who’s not overly fond of brats, but my God, I need a dose of you every day, sweet pup. You give me energy.”
I glanced up at Santiago, waiting for him to respond, and he gave me this confused look—as if he was expecting me to say something.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” The concern in his eyes irritated me so much! I didn’t want his concern—I wanted Uncle Lucian to be all right!
Gael grasped my arm gently, and I flicked him a glance. “Dean, KC, and Cam went with Lucian to the hospital—they called 9-1-1 because he had chest pains.”
I stiffened, unable to process those words. All while…my body reacted. Santiago picked up the pace, and so did I. I had to get there. I had to be with them. I had to see Lucian with my own eyes. Chest pains? He was too young for that bullshit! He hadn’t even turned forty-five!
Oh my God, what if he was dead? He could be dead right now.
Emotions rushed upward, and I had to swallow repeatedly. I shook my head as we jogged down the concrete stairs toward the exit. What if he was dead? What if he was one of those unlucky bastards who suffered a heart attack in their forties and didn’t make it?
Panic tinted the edges of my senses, my breathing turned shallow, and I began running. I pushed the heavy door open, and I scanned the dark, half-empty parking lot for Santiago’s truck. I remembered it. I’d been inside it. My breaths misted in the air that was cold and heavy with rain that hadn’t fallen, and then Santiago gestured at—there. I ran for the truck, and Santiago and Gael thankfully sped up too.
Chest pains.
Oh God.
I’d snuck him so much bad food these past few months. We’d practically turned it into a game—and it’d started weeks before he’d found out he had high blood pressure. KC and Cameron had wanted him to make dietary changes, but…Lucian had fucking promised! He’d told me everyone was overreacting!
I sucked in a ragged breath, my eyes welled up rapidly, and my hands prickled uncomfortably. My chest felt tight too. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all. Fucking hell, hurry, Santiago! I realized they were talking. Santiago and Gael—they were speaking, but I couldn’t for the life of me decipher the words. The worry and the urgency were clear on their faces, though. Which said it all. Maybe it was best I didn’t hear them. Instead, I jumped into the truck, in the back, and Gael opted to sit back here too.
