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Savannah frowns. “She’s… She’ll be okay. But her airbag didn’t deploy. Something about a recall that she never got taken care of. Her face is all gashed up and she had to have surgery to stop internal bleeding. She’s probably got some broken bones too. I… I didn’t look too closely.”
“I get it. It’s hard to see someone you care about like that.”
“Is your sister…”
“She’s going to be okay now.”
“With your bone marrow?”
“Yup. Absolutely.”
No guarantees.
Those words, spoken by all the doctors, echo in my head.
But I can’t lose my baby sister. I just can’t.
Robin and my brothers were here earlier. Mom and Dad are staying at a hotel a couple blocks away rather than driving nearly an hour to get back to their house on the ranch. I’m the only one spending the night.
I missed too much of Raven while I was gone.
I won’t miss another fucking minute.
Except for the minute where I help Savannah take these water bottles up to the seventh floor.
“Come on.” I head to the elevator carrying the bottles.
Once on seven, she leads the way to her friend’s room. “Thank you,” she says softly, taking the bottles and knocking lightly on the door.
An older man answers and takes two of the bottles from her, glancing briefly at me. “Thank you, Savannah.”
“See you,” I say, and walk away.
I walk away from Savannah and back to my sister.
Walking toward my sister feels right.
But walking away from Savannah feels all kinds of wrong.
11
SAVANNAH
“She woke up for a minute while you were gone,” Mr. Hunt says.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. She asked for her mother, but then she fell back to sleep.” He touches Ashley’s forehead. “She’s got a touch of fever, but the nurse says that’s normal after such a serious operation.”
I simply nod. I’m not sure what to say to either of them. Do they know that Ashley and I don’t like each other much? Is that in my head? Maybe Ashley truly considers me a friend.
I’ll be a better friend.
A much better friend.
I’ll stop taking everything Ashley says so personally. That’s just how she is.
I open my bottle of water and take a sip. It soothes my dry throat. Then I take another sip. And then another. My throat is no longer dry, but it gives me something to do.
I glance at some commotion in the hallway. Gert and Jordan have arrived. Mr. Hunt welcomes them into the room.
Gert rushes to Mrs. Hunt’s side. “Donnie, how are you doing? How is Ash doing?”
Mrs. Hunt—always Mrs. Hunt to me, not Donnie—squeezes Gert’s hand. “She woke up a few minutes ago. She’s sedated, but she’s not completely out.”
Gert winces as she gazes at Ashley’s bandaged face.
She’s thinking about the scars Ashley’s likely to have, but she won’t say anything to Mrs. Hunt about that.
“The surgery was for internal bleeding,” Mr. Hunt tells Gert and Jordan. “The doctors were able to repair the damage, but she had to have a transfusion. Her wrist is fractured, and she has several broken ribs. Honestly, she’s lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“Thank God for her airbag,” Jordan says.
Mr. Hunt shakes his head.
“The airbag didn’t deploy,” I say. I don’t mention the recall issue.
“Oh.” Jordan’s eyes widen. “Then thank goodness this wasn’t worse.”
Mr. Hunt simply nods.
I’m feeling like a fourth wheel now that Ashley’s real friends are here. I take another gulp of my water. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to the restroom.”
“You can use this one.” Mrs. Hunt points to the small bathroom attached to the room.
“That’s okay. I’ll be right back.”
I don’t have to use the bathroom, but I go anyway. My hair is a mess, falling out of its ponytail, and my blouse is coming untucked.
Great. This is how Falcon Bellamy saw me.
I sigh.
No biggie. At least it shouldn’t be. I’m his parole officer, and I’m not asking to get transferred off his case. Not after one day on the job when they’re understaffed.
I grab a brush from my purse, fix my hair, and tuck my blouse back in. I brush a few specks of lint off my skirt, and then I apply some lipstick and blush.
Much better.
Not that I need to look good for Ashley’s parents.
I wash my hands, dry them, and leave the restroom…
And I find myself walking toward the elevator.
Entering.
And pressing the button for the sixth floor.
I have no business doing this. Falcon’s sister and her illness are not my business.
Not even slightly.
But I’m driven. Driven by something inside me.
Driven to see him.
I’m his parole officer, after all. He’s my responsibility.
And he may need me.
The elevator dings, and I exit onto the sixth floor, walking toward Raven Bellamy’s room.
Six thirty-five. That’s her room number. Almost exactly below Ashley, who’s in seven thirty-three.
I stand next to room six thirty-five for a moment. What the hell am I doing?
He doesn’t need me. I’m doing this for myself, not for Falcon Bellamy.
