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I have to go grocery shopping. My refrigerator is bare, but it will have to wait until the weekend. I’m still tired from staying out late at ladies’ night last night. Not the best idea right before my first day of work, but I didn’t want to let the girls down.
Except for Ashley. I’d let her down in a minute.
I grab a loaf of bread and a jar of grape jelly out of the fridge. The peanut butter sits on the counter from where I ate some with my fingers when I got home last night.
I make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, pour a glass of water, and sit down in my small living room to read Cosmo. Cosmo is my vice. Normally I read novels, but once a month I get my Cosmo fix. I still get it in hard copy. I dislike reading magazines on my e-reader.
I’m knee-deep into a quiz on my sexual IQ when my phone buzzes.
“Hey, Gert,” I say.
“Sav, have you heard?” Her voice is frantic.
“Heard what?”
“It’s Ash. She got into a wreck last night after she left the bar. She’s at Ridgemont Hospital outside of Summer Creek…and it doesn’t look good.”
My pulse quickens. “You’re just hearing this now?”
“Jordy and I just heard. Ash’s mom called. She’s there with her, and Jordy and I are on our way. God, why didn’t she listen to us when we told her not to drive? Can we crash with you tonight?”
“Sure, but I only have the one bedroom. Well, I have two, but there aren’t any beds in the other.”
“You’ve got a couch, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And your bed’s a queen?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll bunk with you if you don’t mind, and Jordy can take the couch. Thanks, a bunch, Sav. We’ll see you at the hospital.”
I throw down the issue of Cosmo and grab my purse, stuffing my phone in. I’m still in my work clothes, but I need to get to the hospital. I’m not a huge Ashley fan, but I don’t wish any ill will on her. God, I hope she’s okay. I should have pumped Gert for more information, but then again, she probably told me all she knows.
I feel like tying one on tonight.
Ashley’s words to Iris haunt me. She did exactly that. She tied one on, and I thought about mentioning the amount she was drinking, but I didn’t. I decided I wasn’t her keeper.
I wish I’d said something, though she probably would have huffed and said something like, “Oh, Savvy, you’re such a buzzkill.”
I leave my place, locking the door behind me, get into the car, and tap Ridgemont Hospital into my GPS. Good. Only a couple miles away.
Once I’m there, I find a spot—a million miles away of course—and hurry inside. A volunteer sits at a desk near the entrance.
“May I help you?” she asks.
“I’m looking for my friend. Ashley Hunt. She came in last night.”
“Are you a family member?”
“A friend.”
“You’ll have to check with reception, then.”
I nod and hurry toward the large reception area, but before I get there, Ashley’s father approaches me, wearing a dark gray suit and royal blue tie. His blondish gray hair is disheveled.
“Savannah,” he says, “thank you for coming.”
“Mr. Hunt, I’m so sorry. How is she?”
“She’s stable, at least. Donette is with her in her room on seven. Her car is totaled.”
Who cares about her car? Well, besides Ashley. She loves that Mustang. I’m tempted to tell Mr. Hunt how Ashley refused to give Gert her keys last night, but it’s probably best to keep that to myself.
“What happened?”
“She plowed into a parked car on the side of the road.” He shakes his head. “A man was in the car, checking his emails. He’s got a lot of broken bones, but he’s going to live, thank God. I’ve told her time and again not to drink and drive, but does she listen?”
Now’s not really the time for a drunk driving lecture, though I agree with him. Ashley has clearly tempted fate one too many times.
“Her airbag didn’t deploy,” he says, “otherwise her injuries would have been minor.”
“Oh my God…”
“Apparently there was a recall for her airbag, and Ashley didn’t—” He chokes up. “If only…”
I want to comfort him, but I don’t know him well enough to squeeze his arm or anything like that. “I’m so sorry. Jordan and Gert are on their way. May I see her?”
“She’s not very responsive, though I’m told her surgery went well.”
I’m probably not the first person she wants to see anyway, but I don’t say this to her father.
“But you can see her,” he continues. “I’ll take you up. I was just down here getting a bit to eat. Donette won’t eat. I’m going to take her a sandwich.” He holds up the brown bag in his left hand.
Together we walk to the elevator and Mr. Hunt pushes the button for the seventh floor. When we arrive, he leads me to a private room and opens the door.
