Page 128 of Don't Think

The second Casey disappears into the room he was using, my feet are already moving, instinctively guiding me toward the door. But before I can get far, a hand wraps around my arm, pulling me to a stop.

“Hey,” Don says, his voice softer than usual.

I yank my arm free and turn to face him. “You guys figure out what you want to do,” I snap before slipping out and slamming the door behind me.

Blood trickles down my upper lip, and I swipe it away with the sleeve of my leather jacket. My whole body shakes with the leftover adrenaline, and I stomp toward the lift.

My mind’s racing, and I jam my finger repeatedly into the call button. I had no idea what to expect out of this conversation, but I sure as shit didn’t think it was gonna end inthatbullshit.

To sit there and compare it to Emelia? He might as well have kicked me in the balls.

Reaching into my pocket to text Allie and let her know I’m on my way, I pull out my phone, and of course, the screen’s got aspiderweb crack splintering along the rim, and the battery looks like it’s about to slip right out.

Perfect. Justfuckingperfect.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Allie

Why isn’t he answering?

My fingers are practically going numb from how many times I’ve called Jax, only to end up talking to his voicemail.Again.

I quickly dial his number again and press the phone to my ear.

“Hey, you’ve reached my phone. You know what to do.” The voicemail mocks me.

Again.

I hang up and type out a quick message:

Hey… Is everything okay? Call me

Just as I slip my phone back onto the end table, the door creaks open, and my heart leaps, my eyes darting toward it.

“Hi, Allie,” the nurse announces while she rolls a wheelchair into my room. “Did you get a hold of your ride?”

And just like that, my heart deflates.

I shake my head slowly. “Not yet,” I murmur, my eyes dropping to the floor.

She gives me a sympathetic look, locks the wheelchair in place, and heads for the door.

“I’ll come back in ten minutes,” she says with a small nod, then slips out of the room.

A lump forms in my throat. I haven’t felt this alone in… God, I don’t even know how long. My feet dangle off the edge of the bed, swinging lightly while my mind spirals.

Did he get into an accident? Is he lying somewhere on the side of the road, praying for help the same way I was just a few days ago?

What if—

A soft knock interrupts the thought, and the door creaks open.

Jax steps inside, hoodie pulled low over his head, his feet dragging against the floor.

Is he limping?

“I was going to call you,” he says, moving closer to the bed. He holds up his phone, the entire case spiderwebbed with cracks. “But…”