Page 103 of Long Story Short

JOSIE

The flight back to Manhattan feels endless.

It isn’t fast enough.

The car ride from the airport also seems to take forever. It feels like we’re not moving fast enough to get to Pop.

I stare through the windshield as my leg bounces in front of me. My fingers are still curled so tightly around Tyson’s hand that I’m surprised he hasn’t said anything about it. He lets me clutch his hand in mine, keeping physical contact with him while it feels like everything around me is slipping out from under me.

I turn to look out the window, but I don’t really see anything. Nothing registers.

All I can think about is Pop. All I can see is him.

The way he smiled at me last week.

The way he teased me about Tyson.

The grief he gave me about Mouse.

The way, despite the slight shake of his hands when he lifted his drink to his lips, he looked fine. Normal.

And now…

“He’s going to be okay.” Tyson’s words cut through my thoughts.

I don’t realize there are tears streaming down my cheeks until he reaches out and swipes them away.

“I know,” I whisper, even though I don’t. I’m just trying to believe it because I need to hold onto something like hope right now. Hope’s all I’ve got until I know about what’s happened with him and what the future looks like.

I just hope Tyson’s right. I need his words to be true.

I get lost in worrying about Pop until the car slows, catching my attention. I look around, realizing we’re at the hospital.

My stomach drops.

The moment the car stops, Tyson’s out and opening the door for me. As soon as it’s open, I rush out.

“Jos—” he starts, but I’m already gone.

Tyson says something to the driver about taking Mouse and our things back to my address, but I don’t stay to listen to the rest of their conversation.

The air is sharp in my lungs as I rush toward the hospital entrance. My heart pounds so hard I can hear the rush of blood in my ears. Large automatic doors slide open, welcoming me in.

I don’t know what hits me first—the bright lights or the sterile smell of cleaning supplies. There’s a low hum of voices and machines as I make my way to the front desk.

“Hi,” I begin, my voice breathless as I approach the nurse at the computer. “My grandfather…he was brought in earlier. I’m looking for him.” My words are jumbled and come out way too fast.

The nurse looks at me with a comforting smile.

I take a deep breath in an attempt to get myself together. “Arthur Russell.”

She types something into her computer. It seems like forever until her gaze meets mine again. “He’s in the intensive care unit. Fifth floor, room five thirteen.”

Intensive care unit. That doesn’t sound good.

A hand finds the small of my back just as Tyson’s voice comes from behind me. “Can she see him?” he asks, keeping his voice composed.

The nurse’s eyes go wide as she takes in Tyson, but she nods. “Yes, you should be able to.”