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“You know where we’re going?”
The guy nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. Conway. I’ll get you there in no time.”
I slid into the car.
As the driver pulled into traffic, I tried to call Kin’s phone again. This time, she picked up.
“Kale—”
“How is she?”
There was a pause on her end, and I thought I was going to lose my mind. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong, kept chanting inside my head over and over again.
“She’s resting now. The doctors are pumping meds and fluids into her as fast as they can. She’s pretty sick right now. Worse than some of the others, actually.”
I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. “I’m on my way. Thank you for taking care of her. And for calling Emmie.”
I heard her blow out a long sigh. “She’s my friend. I’d do anything for her. I’m not completely sure she’s going to be happy that I did call Aunt Emmie, but she kept asking for you.”
I wanted to explain what had really happened the night before, but it didn’t matter if she knew the truth or not. The only person who needed to know was Santana.
“I’ll call you when my plane lands.”
***
I had never flown on a private jet before. It was small, but luxurious, and got me across the country in half the time a commercial flight would have. All I could think about was getting home to Santana, of taking care of her, and telling her that I loved her.
Once we were in the air, I’d started looking up everything I could on food poisoning caused by fish. I couldn’t imagine how sick she must have been. I didn’t know what kind of food poisoning Santana had, but none of the three I researched looked particularly fun. They all resembled each other since they all caused nausea, stomach pains, and vomiting, but the worst could actually affect her blood pressure and heart rate. Hoping that wasn’t the case, I closed my eyes and prayed.
She was going to be okay. Food poisoning wasn’t a life or death thing these days. Yet, my brain kept imagining the most severe cases I had come across. People who had gotten the worst of the worst. Whose hearts had actually stopped, who had died even with medical attention.
As soon as the plane touched down, I called Kin, but it took me to voicemail after only a few rings. Cursing, I climbed into the back of the hired car that was waiting at the tarmac for me. I hoped the driver knew where to go, because no one had told me which hospital Santana was in. I had been so worried about my girl that I hadn’t even thought to ask.
Traffic was backed up on the highway. It took over an hour to get to the hospital, making it close to ten by the time I got there. I kept trying to call Kin, but it went to voicemail every time. My texts went unanswered, too.
Inside, I went into the emergency room, only to be told that she had probably been moved to another floor, along with all the other food poisoned wedding guests. With a nod of thanks to the nurse who guided me in the right direction, I headed for the elevators.
Three floors up, I stepped off to find that the floor had been overtaken by family members of those who were sick. No one gave me a second glance as I walked down the corridors in search of my girl. I heard a few people muttering something about suing the catering company, but I didn’t pay them any attention.
Nurses looked tired and harassed as they ran around, helping patients. The ones who didn’t appear to be as ill as the others were on gurneys in the halls, their loved ones sitting with them.
I went straight to the nurses’ station, but no one was there; they were all taking care of patients.
Pulling out my phone, I tried Kin’s number again, hoping that I could at least hear it ringing, even if she didn’t answer.
“Can I help you?”
I turned to find a nurse in stained scrubs walking toward me. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and she looked like she had been working for two days straight from the tiredness I saw in her eyes.
“I’m looking for Santana Palmer. They told me downstairs that they brought her up with all the other food poison cases.”
A frown pulled at her brows as she pulled a folded and wrinkled piece of paper out of one of her scrub pockets. “Palmer?” She scanned the list. “Sorry, we’ve been swamped. This food poisoning was the biggest we’ve ever seen at this hospital. The worse I’ve ever seen, period. I’ve had to call in all my nurses who had the day off from day and night shifts, as well as pull some from other floors.”
I didn’t know what to say to her. The phone was still pressed to my ear, but Kin wasn’t answering. Surprising.
“Sorry, honey. I don’t have a Santana Palmer on my list.”
“Was she released, maybe?”
