Page 35 of Nothing At All

Agony sheared through my skull.

Chapter Eleven

Lila

Where was he?

Uneasiness warred with annoyance. Dan was seriously late. It wasn’t like him to not be where he said he would be when he said he would be there.

And it definitely wasn’t like him to not answer my texts or calls.

Something had to be wrong. He’d sent his last text of the day, right before his shift ended. Then . . . nothing.

Maybe he was busy. Maybe he’d had a call at the end of his shift that ran long.

Maybe . . . Nicole was involved.

I shrugged that off, since I had no reason to think she was involved.

Still.

He’d been like a little kid counting down to Christmas all week. I knew he’d made reservations for dinner, but not where. All he’d offered was a “dress nice“ edict.

And then he didn’t show up, didn’t respond.

Unease slid ice down my spine.

He wouldn’t just blow me off–

A firm knock sounded on my front door. Relief crashed through me. Probably, he’d been delayed and let his phone die. That would be a rare occurrence, but still a possibility.

Already laughing, happy to see him, I swung the door open. “Where have you–”

The words died on my tongue. I stared into Vic Ocampo’s light green eyes. Her hair scraped back into a tight bun, she stood on my porch in full uniform. The porch light glinted off her silver badge. My stomach plummeted, leaving a heavy hollow behind. Panic exploded in my throat, hot and sickening,.

I couldn’t breathe.

“He’s okay.” She didn’t reach for me, but stood with a steady, calm presence. “But he’s in the ER. We can’t find his phone, and he couldn’t remember your number.”

“What?” Why wouldn’t he remember? In the ER? She’d said he was okay, but that didn’t sound okay.

“He has a concussion, and he lost consciousness so they’re observing him. He was a little confused when he came to.”

“A concussion.” All I could do was repeat her words, while I frantically tried to wrap my brain around what was happening. “He lost consciousness.”

She nodded, a glimmer of sympathy flickering through her eyes. “A situation at the ER went sideways while he was on a medical transport. He took a hit to the face, fell and caught his head on a supply cart.”

“Oh, my God.” I covered my mouth, throat tight and aching. Someone had hit him. He was hurt.

“Do you want to see him?” She didn’t shift her stance, gaze fixed on my face. “He asked for you. I can take you.”

“Please.” I cast about, looking for my clutch, only to realize I already had it in hand. Tears pricked at my eyes. What was wrong with me?

“My unit is right here. I’ll lock the door.” Her voice gentled, a brief touch on my arm guiding me over the threshold. How was this real? He was picking me up for a dinner he was ridiculously excited about, not lying in an ER because someone hit him.

I walked beside her to the patrol car in my driveway, the hurried click of my heels a thin contrast to the steady scrape of her boots on the pavement.

“He really is okay.” She held the passenger door for me. I sank into the seat, my hands shaking so I twisted them together until my fingers hurt. “A little worse for wear, but he was fairly lucid when he came around. They sent him for a CT scan, but that’s pretty standard.”