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Finn’s face swirls in front of mine.
“Calla, breathe,” he instructs, his hand on mine, his blue eyes filled with worry. “Breathe.”
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
“Finn,” I whisper. But that’s all I can do, all I can say, all I can plead.
Something is wrong here.
Something.
Something.
Something.
Everything.
I can feel it.
Then I feel nothing because everything fades away.
When I wake, I’m in my room alone. It’s dark outside, early morning. I’ve been sleeping all day and all night, probably a product of Sabine’s herbs. I stir, rub my bleary eyes and finally sit.
I’m alone.
Dare.
Dare.
My memories of this morning erupt like a volcano in my head and I lurch for the phone. I call the operator and ask to be connected to the hospital because I obviously don’t know the number.
When someone answers, I stumble with my words.
“Yes, can you connect me to Dare DuBray’s room, please?”
“Just a moment.” The woman’s voice is perfunctory, but I feel relieved. Just a moment. I’ll hear his voice in a moment. Thank God. They can’t keep me from him. No one can.
I wait.
And wait.
And then the perfunctory woman is back.
“What was the name again, miss?”
“Adair DuBray,” I tell her tightly.
There is a pause and clicking on a computer.
“We don’t have a patient by that name,” she tells me.
“Was he discharged?” I ask hopefully. “He was there yesterday for an infection. He got a tattoo and…”
“Miss, we haven’t had a patient by that name. Not yesterday, not ever. He’s not in our system. He wasn’t here.”
“That’s a mistake,” I whisper, but she’s resolute.
“There’s no mistake, miss.”
