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“I should call Clint’s parents.”
“Do you have their number?”
“I’ve got Clint’s home number, yes.”
Michael nodded. “Then I’d give them a call. They need to know what’s going on.”
I reached down for my purse, shocked that I still had it. I smiled a thankful smile over at Michael and he nodded his head. And for the first time, I felt like things were finally resolved between us. I dug out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, coming upon Clint’s home number. He’d given it to me in case of an emergency. But for the most part, he’d told me not to call it unless I absolutely had to.
And this was pretty much the biggest emergency on the planet.
I sighed. “Here goes nothing.”
I dialed the number and the phone rang in my ear. It rang and it rang, and I almost hung up. Maybe his father and stepmother were out on another trip. Not even in town. Which wouldn't have shocked me a bit. Then, on the last ring, the phone picked up.
“Who’s this?”
His father’s gruff voice filled the phone and my mind pulled me back. Back to that morning where he found us leaving the house to go to school. That wild, empty smile. Those mean, villainous eyes. My stomach turned over as his voice filled my ear, and I almost couldn't speak.
Until Michael cleared his throat at me.
“Hi. Yes. Mr. Clarke?”
He paused. “This is he. Who is this? Why are you calling my phone so late at night?”
“This is Raelynn Cleaver. I don’t know if you remember me, but—”
“Can you cut to the chase? I’m a bit busy with work over here.”
“Clint’s been in an accident. He’s headed for the hospital.”
The phone call fell silent before a sigh emanated over the phone.
“A crash on his bike?”
I paused. “More like someone ran him off the road and he fell over a bridge.”
Michael quirked an eyebrow at me as my voice started to flatten. It sounded like his father was more annoyed than anything. There wasn’t the slightest hint of worry in his tone.
“Well, that’s what my son gets for pissing off half the city. What hospital are they headed to?”
My jaw dropped open. How the hell could he be so calloused?
“Um, they’re headed to—”
I looked over at Michael as he mouthed the name of the hospital.
“—Dignity Health,” I finished.
“How far out was he? That’s clear across town.”
“It was a bad wreck, Mr. Clarke. His heart stopped there for a while on the bank of the river. You really should get to the hospital.”
And with a groan, his father hung up the phone.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” I hissed.
I tossed my phone to the floorboard as my body vibrated with fury. I felt Michael staring at me as we came to a stop at a stoplight. I mean, the ambulance blew through it. But we weren’t sure we could. Even if we were following it.
