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No. She was fine. Her prognosis was good.
Guilt.
God, the guilt again.
I try to swallow it.
I was just thinking about how the accident was Ashley’s fault.
How can I be so callous?”
“I’m so sorry,” the nurse says again. “The doctors did all they could.”
“Yes, I’m sure they did,” I say robotically. “I know I’m not family, but can you tell me what happened?”
The nurse cocked her head. “I just did.”
I rub my forehead. “Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t process any of it.”
She attempts a smile. “I understand. Ms. Hunt suffered a stroke. It’s not uncommon after such trauma. Her parents are devastated. She was doing so well, but these things happen. There’s just no predicting them sometimes.”
I sniff back tears and swallow again. No luck. The guilt is still there, clogging up my throat. “But…strokes aren’t always…”
“No, they’re not always fatal. But Ms. Hunt had suffered a huge trauma to all of her systems. I’m so sorry, ma’am.”
“What about arrangements?”
“Her parents will be taking her body home to San Antonio,” the nurse says. “That’s all I can tell you.”
I rub my forehead again, my temples throbbing. “Thank you. Thank you for the information.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” She opens a drawer and pulls out a few pamphlets. “I have the names of grief counselors. There are some good ones here at the hospital.”
“No. Thank you, but no.”
I’m in the elevator then, not clear on how I got there.
Down I go, and I when I get off on the main floor, I head to my car, get in, and bury my head in my hands.
I cry.
I didn’t like Ashley much, but she was twenty-seven, same as me.
She didn’t deserve to die at such a young age.
She didn’t deserve to die at all.
26
FALCON
I wake up to my phone ringing.
“Yeah?” I grumble into the phone.
“Mr. Bellamy? This is Debby from the parole office. I’m going to need to cancel your appointment with Ms. Gallo.”
I clear my throat. “What?”
“Your nine o’clock appointment today with Savannah Gallo,” she says. “Ms. Gallo won’t be in today.”
My eyes jerk open. “What? Is she all right?”
“She’s taking a personal day. That’s all I’m at liberty to say. Anyway, you’re scheduled for next week at this same time. Ms. Gallo will be back by then. We don’t normally like to skip meetings with new parolees, but we’re understaffed this week and this is the only way. Ms. Gallo will see you a week from today at the same time.”
My pulse goes nuts. “Wait, wait, wait…”
“Yes?”
“I… She… What happened?”
“I can only tell you she’s taking some personal time.”
“But she’s…”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Bellamy. We’ll see you at the same time next week.” The call ends with a beeping in my ear.
I throw the phone down.
Vannah? Personal time?
She only began this job last week, and she made a huge deal about how she couldn’t ask for me to be reassigned because she’d just started.
And now she’s taking personal time?
What the hell?
I close my eyes, try to calm my rapid breathing.
Damn.
And I was looking forward to seeing her today. Also dreading seeing her. Fuck, what’s wrong with me?
Doesn’t matter.
Now I want to know what’s going on with her. Want to make sure she’s okay.
But I don’t have any way to get in touch—
I jerk upward in bed.
Yes, I do. She called me Sunday night. I have her number in my recent calls.
I grab my phone from where I’d thrown it and scroll through, finding the requisite call.
It goes to voicemail.
Hi, this is Savannah. I’m sorry I’m busy and can’t take your call. Please leave a message and I’ll call you back.
The sound of her sweet voice makes me ache.
I hang up.
What am I supposed to say to her?
I was horrible to her. Told her it was over, that I was going to get reassigned, only then to find out there was no one to reassign me to.
This time I throw my phone across the room.
Looks like I have the day off from going into town for my parole appointment.
And I know exactly what I’m going to do.
I get out of bed, head to the shower, and then to the kitchen where I brew a pot of coffee.
After two cups and three fried eggs, I head out.
I’m going to town. To see a friend.
A friend who can tell me what the fuck is going on.
27
SAVANNAH
“Gert,” I say into the phone.
“Oh, Sav,” she says, sobbing. “Have you heard?”
“I…” I gulp. “Yeah. I went to the hospital last night to see her, and…”
“It’s the worst,” Gert says. “Jordan is beside herself. You know they were besties like you and I are. I don’t know what she’s going to do without Ash.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Gert. She and I weren’t close, but…”
“I know. I know you would never wish anything like this on her.”
