Page 56 of Level Up for Love

Chapter

Sixteen

Late Thursday afternoon, I log off early from work, and I’m struggling with building a puzzle for Afterwards when Mona calls. I can’t understand her at first, she’s talking so fast.

“Hi, Rea—fuck.” She hisses through her teeth. “C-could you come to the yoga studio? I accidentally—” Then she sounds far away, like she’s lowered the phone and is speaking over her shoulder. “Miranda, no, please don’t call anyone. I’ll be fine.”

I freeze. “What happened?”

Silence.

“Mona?”

There’s more conversation on the other end of the line, and then I hear Mona gasp again. Her voice is pained. “Can you come?”

“I’m on my way.”

As I shove my feet into my boots and thunder down the stairs, yelping at how cold it is when I open the door—I forgot to grab my jacket—I list all of the things that might have gone wrong. Is an old injury bothering her? Did she break a bone? Did the building collapse? I’m ignoring the more rational half of my brain, which protests, Surely you can’t hurt yourself that bad in yoga, as I fumble to get the keys into the ignition of my car. It could be nothing—it’s probably nothing—but all I can hear is a panicked alarm blaring against the inside of my skull.

Before I pull out onto the street, I shoot a quick text to Wesley.

Reagan:

might not make it to dnd tonight

emergency with mona

Almost immediately, my phone begins to buzz in my palm.

Shit.

Throw it into the passenger seat, or pick up? I don’t have time to think it through—I jam the green answer button with my thumb.

“Hello?” I say.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” A brief pause. “Is she okay?”

“Um.” Fuck me, but I can’t keep the slight wobble out of my voice, that dissonance you get when you’re trying not to cry. “I don’t know. She said that there was an accident at the yoga studio and asked me to come.”

“Do you need help?”

I have no idea. It’s probably nothing, I think again. I don’t even know what to say.

“I live pretty close by,” Wesley says gently. His voice sounds so close, and something in his tone has my shoulders relaxing by a marginal amount. “How about I meet you there? Just in case.”

“Just in case,” I echo. This is suddenly too much, and I haven’t even put the car in drive yet. I won’t talk on the phone and drive; it’s one of my many rules. “Thank you,” I say, then hang up.

The drive is a blur; I don’t even register familiar landmarks, seeing only the flashes of red and green traffic lights and flurries of yellow leaves against the brittle gray sky. I nearly hit another car as I swerve into an unprotected left turn, but for once, it doesn’t send me into a panic. I’m already there.

Finally, I skid into the parking spot next to Mona’s Kia Soul and climb out of my car, but she’s nowhere in sight. I scan the parking lot for her, but instead, my eyes snag on Wesley’s golden head, facing away from me. I use it as a compass and weave through the cars toward them.

I hear them before they see me.

“…God, she always does this. I’m sorry—I probably freaked her out. You really didn’t need to come, Wesley.”

“I don’t mind. She was worried about you.”

He rolls his shoulders in an easy shrug, and I notice he must have forgotten his jacket, too—maybe more than his jacket. His blue T-shirt looks too thin for this weather, and I can see his feet are bare in his slides, peeking out from beneath faded gray sweatpants. He really must have rushed here.