Page 112 of Don't Think

Why won’t they get me out of here?

“Everything’s alright, ma’am. Try not to panic. We’re going to get you out. Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?” the man says. “Can you tell me your name?”

Allie. My name is Allie Windsor. I have two daughters. They need me. Please, help me.

But the words won’t come. Not even a whisper.

“Do you feel any pain, ma’am?”

No pain.

My eyelids are so heavy. Everything’s turning into a blurry mess.

“No, no—keep your eyes open for me. They’re almost here.” The stranger’s voice cracks with urgency.

I want to tell him I’m okay. That I’m just tired.

That I just need to rest for at least a second.

“Would you guys get thefuckover here?” he screams.

But it’s too late.

I’m already asleep.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jax

I don’t even know how the hell I made it here in one piece.

The entire drive is a blur from the moment I got in the car, to me racing through the car park—it all just blends together. I was only focused on one thing: getting here as fast as I could.

My car door slams shut behind me, and I immediately break into a sprint, my footsteps sloshing through puddles while the rain lashes my face like a whip.

As soon as I reach the emergency room doors, they slide open and I barrel inside, slipping across the floor from my rain-slicked boots. I quickly scan the room until I find Ana, curled up in a chair in the corner with her knees pulled to her chest.

I run my hands down my face, trying to steady myself before heading over there. My world might feel like it’s fucking shattering into a million pieces, but this can’t be easy on her either.

Dragging my feet along the slippery tiled floor, I walk slowly over to her, my heart screaming in my chest every step of the way.

When I finally reach her, my hands grasp the arms of the chair beside her, and I let myself sink into it, feeling the adrenaline starting to crash down. Hard.

I gently place my hand on her back, and she looks up, meeting my eyes with a look of hope that quickly dies.

“Hey,” I say softly. “Any word yet?”

She shakes her head slowly, the light above us highlighting the thick lines of tears down her cheeks.

“They rushed her into surgery,” she says with a quivering voice. Then she wipes her face with the back of her hand.

Surgery?

“W–what surgery? Did they at least say if she was going to be okay?” I ask, panic rising in my throat.

She shrugs, letting out a low, bitter laugh. “They wouldn’t tell me anything because I’m notfamily.” She uses air quotes around the wordfamily, the sting of it clear in her tone. If anyone here is considered family, it’s Ana.

Her eyes tighten at the corners while she fights to keep herself together. Then she quickly jabs a finger into her own chest. “Ionly know because I fuckingwatchedthem wheel her by on my way in.”