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Before I can think about it too much, my cell buzzes. When I see my older brother’s name, I sigh.
Lucas: Aidan wants an update.
Me: I’ll check in later.
Lucas: Fine.
I roll my eyes as I sense his disapproval from the East Coast.
Fine, my ass.
Only Lucas can give a positive word such a negative intonation via text.
As I settle behind the wheel, I glance at Isabelle.
She’s not the only one who fucks up and feels like a burden. That’s why, even though my instincts are screaming at me that everything is wrong here, I know Ican’tfuck this up.
This initial meeting didn’t go according to plan, but as I stick the key into the ignition and think about how the Disciples just alienated and isolated her all while not checking on her very high self and letting her get into a car with a stranger, I pat myself on the back for figuring out an in before I Venmo over the cash to that chick Andrea and thank her for her soup-hurling skills.
Then, of course, everything goes to shit.
Cindy vomits all over herself and…Jesus Christ. It’s like that time my sister got high on molly at a frat party and asked me to get her to the ER “just in case,” so Ma wouldn’t lose another kid in a fucking hospital.
I don’t allow myself to panic.
Uncaring of the drivers who honk their horns and flip me the bird, I pull a U-turn in the street and get my ass to the nearest hospital.
I’ll freak the fuck out later.
3
CINDY
“Give her another bag of fluids—”
I fade out.
“Hurry it up, dammit. She’s going—”
I fade in.
“There she is…”
At the sound of someone’s voice, I open my eyes and find myself staring at a stranger in a white coat. For a split second, terror floods my brain, but then I relax. It’s not him, my father, but another doctor. One with silver hair.
“What happened?” I croak, trying to move my head, which kind of spins as I take in the fact that I’m not in my apartment with the hot guy…
Wait, did that happen?
“You’re in the hospital.” The doctor pulls out a light to shine in my eyes then looks at a nurse who is typing on a laptop. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Why?” I rasp.
My throat is killing me, and that goddamn light!Ouch.
“Do you know your name?”
I scowl at him. “Of course, I know my name. It’s Isa—Cindy Davis. What happened?” I try to sit up, but my head is throbbing and I’m nauseated.
