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“Brake,” I mumbled through the haze of pain medication. “Cut.”
“Cut? Are you saying your brake lines were cut?”
“Where’s Joy?”
“She’s fine. Are you sure your brake line was cut?”
I couldn't form the words. The medication was pulling me under, and fighting it felt like swimming against a riptide.
“Joy,” I managed to whisper.
Then the darkness claimed me.
Chapter Thirty-One
I burst through the automatic doors of LeConte Medical Center like a woman possessed, my feet barely touching the polished floor as I sprinted toward the information desk. Jase and Nash's voices echoed behind me, calling my name, but I couldn't slow down. Not when Graham was somewhere in this sterile maze of corridors, hurt because of me.
Simon stood near the reception desk, his face grim. The moment he spotted me, he stepped into my path with his hands raised.
“Joy, you need to slow down.”
“Where is he?” The words tore from my throat. “Where's Graham?”
“He's still being examined. The doctors are working on him right now.”
“I want to see him. Right now.” I tried to push past Simon, but he gently caught my arm.
“You can't. Not yet. They need space to work.”
“I don't care what they need.” I wrenched free and marched to the reception desk, where a middle-aged woman with kind eyes looked up at me. “I need to know where Graham Wallace is. He was brought in from a car accident.”
The woman's fingers clicked across her keyboard. “Are you family?”
“I'm his girlfriend. We live together.”
“I'm sorry, but I can only release information to immediate family or the emergency contact listed in our system.”
My hands pressed flat against the cool surface of the desk. “Then who is his emergency contact?”
“A Mr. Simon Clark.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I spun around to face Simon, fury rising in my chest like a tide.
“You're his emergency contact?”
Simon shifted uncomfortably. “Joy, let me explain.”
“Explain what? That my boyfriend, the man I love, listed someone else as his emergency contact instead of me?” My voice cracked on the last word.
“It's not like that. Those forms were filled out years ago, before he met you.”
I shook my head and took a deep breath. “Right. Right. Of course. Then tell me how he is. Please.”
Jase and Nash flanked me now, their presence solid and reassuring. I tried not to focus on the crushing realization that no matter how we felt about one another, I wasn't Graham's next of kin.
“If you can't tell me how he is,” I said, “tell me what happened.” I glared at Simon.
Simon glanced at Jase and Nash, some unspoken communication passing between them.
