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I tried to call her, but she changed her phone number.
I tried to track her down by calling her parents, but they wouldn’t tell me anything except that Ella didn’t want to see me and that I should respect that.
It’s hard to respect someone who leaves you with a written note of apology, though.
So, after
almost two years of living a life that revolved around Ella Barker, I’ve managed to move on the only way I know how. More hockey, more partying, and more sex with women to try to take my mind off the pain that engulfs me when I’m sober.
The shrill ringing of a phone makes me squint my eyes in front of the bathroom mirror. I’ve just gotten the cap off the ibuprofen bottle and I’m shaking a couple of them into my hand when the sound assaults my ears.
“Are you going to get that?” A groggy voice speaks up from the bed.
I retreat from the bathroom, taking in the sight of the woman in my bed, still huddled under the covers like it’s a fortress from the annoyances of the world, only her head peeking out. Her blonde hair is tousled and there are dark circles under her eyes from mascara and lack of sleep.
Something knots in my gut. She’s pretty and can’t be older than twenty-one. She deserves so much better than the one-night stand she’s getting from me.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Just give me a sec.”
She groans some kind of incoherent response, but I’m already popping the pills into my mouth and chasing them with water from the bottle on my nightstand, my eyes searching out the phone. Another loud ring alerts me to its location on the desk, and manage to answer it on the third ring, much to my bedmate’s frustration.
“Hello?” I don’t even bother to check the caller display, too eager to make the shrill sound stop reverberating through my head.
“Is this Craig Connelly?”
I don’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line. “It is. Who’s this?”
“My name is Marla, sir. I’m a nurse at the Richmond County General. I’ve been asked by Ella Barker to contact you—”
“What happened?” Every nerve ending in my body has begun to sizzle and snap with anxiety. My brain automatically conjures up numerous reasons for Ella and the local hospital to be associated with one another. “Is Ella okay?”
Her voice is even, controlled. She’s obviously been trained to deal with people on the verge of impending hysteria. “Ms. Barker has been in an accident, Mr. Connelly. She’s requested that we call you.”
An accident. “I asked you if she was okay,” I repeat, growing more assertive. And more worried.
More hesitation. “She’s currently conscious, Mr. Connelly, but it would be best if you could get here soon. We can fill you in on the details in person.”
There’s something in what she doesn’t say that scares me more than what she does. “I can be there in twenty minutes. I’m leaving now.”
“Take the elevator to the third floor,” she instructs me. “We’ll be awaiting your arrival.”
I toss the phone onto the foot of the bed just as the blonde woman under the covers pulls the blankets back and sits up slowly. “Everything all right?” she asks me, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, pulling clean clothes from the dresser drawer in front of me.
“Well, what’s going on?”
I turn around to face her and see that she hasn’t made a move to get out of the bed. “I don’t know.”
“What do you know?” she asks, an edge in her voice.
I tug the clean t-shirt over my head, smoothing it down my abdomen as my eyes meet hers. “Just that you have to go.”
Her expression falls, but she recovers quickly, only letting her raised eyebrows tell of her anger towards me right now. “Too bad,” she says seductively. “I had other plans for you and I this morning.”
It’s all I can do to prevent myself from rolling my eyes at her. “Look—” I pause, wracking my brain for a memory, but nothing comes.
“Bethany,” she advises me through clenched teeth.
