She looked like mine.
“Wow.” Dylan’s hand clapped my shoulder. “Good job, kiddo.”
“It’s okay.” I extended my arm to Zadie, and she rushed over to me, pressing into my side as I wrapped her in a possessive hold. “Zadie, this is Dylan.”
“I saw you,” she said, her voice steady. “At Zane’s party. With Chantel.”
“Yeah. I was there.” The words were flat, but for Dylan, that practically counted as friendly.
“Wait.” Her body stiffened against mine. “You’re Dylan? Jamie’s ex, Dylan? Hunter’s father?”
His expression didn’t change, but the pulse at the base of his throat kicked visibly. “That’s me.”
“No wonder Chantel lost it at dinner,” Zadie murmured.
“What’s going on, Dylan?” I cut in.
“I need your woman to come with me.” He looked past me to Zadie. “There’s been an accident.”
She tensed, her body vibrating against mine. “Is it Chantel? Is she okay?”
“Chantel’s fine.” He paused, his gaze bouncing between us. “It’s Sean.”
We both exhaled. But Zadie was still trembling.
“Got sideswiped,” Dylan continued. “He’s at Copper Ridge Regional. Stable, but unconscious. Chantel thought you’d want to be there.”
“You should have called.” I ran my hand over Zadie’s arm, trying to soothe her. “I’d have brought her right away.”
“When was the last time either of you checked your phone?” He raised an eyebrow. “We called. Texted. Called again. Figured you were otherwise occupied, so she sent me. She didn’t want to leave him.”
“She’s there?” Zadie’s voice was tight. “Is she his doctor? I should go. I need to get dressed?—”
“Hey.” I grasped her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “One thing at a time. We’ll get you there.”
“She’s not his attending,” Dylan said. “Conflict of interest. But she hasn’t left his side.”
“Wait. Conflict of interest? What do you mean, conflict of—” The words died in my throat. “Holy shit. Sean? It’s Sean?”
Dylan’s features didn’t soften, but something behind his eyes loosened, like a weight he’d been carrying had finally shifted.
Zadie’s fingers dug into my arm. “What’s going on?”
“Maybe you should get dressed,” Dylan said. “Chantel will want to explain this herself.”
“Explain what?” Zadie’s voice cracked.
I looked at Dylan. He looked at me. And I made the call.
“Go back to the hospital,” I said. “Tell Chantel we’re coming. And tell her I’m the one who told Zadie. She can’t hold it against you, and I’ll find somewhere else to live if I have to.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “For the record, I’ve been pushing her to come clean for a long time. But you know how she is—the only place she does what she’s told is in my bed.”
“Jesus Christ.” I closed my eyes. “Get the hell out of here, Dylan.”
I closed the door on him.
Zadie had gone rigid beside me, her arms wrapped around herself, tears already building. “Please. I really need you to tell me what’s going on.”
