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He curses softly. “I know, baby girl. I’m here. We can stay on the phone for as long as you want.”
“How bad? What happened?” How bad is he? He has to be okay. I would know if he . . . if he wasn’t okay. I’d.Know.
“He was attacked, and he’s being taken into surgery soon. You need to be here by the time they’re finished and he wakes up.”
That trapped sob escapes. The hand on my shoulder moves to take the phone from me, and I let it. Without the weight of it against my cheek, I move frantically around the house, shoving everything off the kitchen counters and tearing through bags on the table in search of my car keys.
This was my stalker.
He hurt Noah bad enough he needs surgery.
I’ll kill him for this.
My unshed tears dry, the sobs in my chest drifting to nothingness. A cold feeling of unrelenting vengeance fills their place.
I find my car keys in the junk drawer and grip them so hard they prick my palm. Sparks is standing by the door, hand on the handle, when I head in her direction. Josh hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch, but the blunt is gone.
Sparks extends her arm and offers me my phone. The screen is open, still on the call. One look at the contact name and I’m swallowing the emotion in my throat and storming outside, not stopping until I reach the car parked along the curb out front.
Sparks’ footsteps sound on the sidewalk, but I force them from my mind. Moving onto the street, I throw my hands into the air, spinning and spinning as I look around the neighbourhood. He’s watching. He has to be.
My shout pierces the night.
“I’m right here, you sick fuck! You should have had the nerve to come get me instead of touching him. Now, I’m going to tear you apart! That’s a promise.”
* * *
The momentI see my parents in the waiting room, I’m sprinting. That bravery I had out on the street is gone. Like throwing a towel over a stove fire, the flames of revenge are snuffed out, leaving me hollow. Nothing but that crippling pain drifts in my chest.
My cheeks are wet, my knees weak. Dad reaches for me first, tucking me into his body and holding me tight. I let the sobs shred my throat then.
The events of the past few weeks shake through me. The fear, worry, disgust. The questions still unanswered. And now Noah. My everything, here in this fucking hospital because of me. It’s too much. I feel like there’s a bag over my head, and it’s getting pulled tighter and tighter. I’m tired of trying to yank it off. So tired.
Dad’s hands run over my head, smoothing my hair. I feel Mom at my back, rubbing circles along my spine. Their comfort should help. But it doesn’t.
“Shh. I’ve got you.”
I soak Dad’s shirt, hiding my face from the people around us. It’s all wrong. Everything is wrong. I love my dad, but the arms I want around me are somewhere else in this hospital, in a room surrounded by doctors. He’s not here.
Because of me.
A hot flash of guilt tears another fit of sobs from me. “I—I made him g-go. It wasn’t s-s-safe, but I asked him to stop.”
“Honey, this isn’t your fault,” Mom murmurs.
I shake my head furiously, crushing my nose to Dad’s chest. “I want to know what happened.”
“Can we sit and talk?” Dad asks softly.
“Okay.”
The bright white lights above us burn my sore eyes. Sheepishly, I glance around the waiting room. It’s quiet, still. Empty besides a few people spread through the bulk of plastic chairs. They don’t look at me. Don’t judge me. They’re all struggling with whatever it is that brought them here.
“This way.” Dad keeps me close as he leads us toward an empty row of seats. Mom grabs my hand.
I collapse onto the hard plastic chair, and they flank me, one on each side. Dad’s arm goes around the back of my chair while Mom pulls our hands to her lap. My leg shakes, the only visible sign of my anxiety.
“Where are Oakley and Ava? Do they know he’s here?” I hiccup.
