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I shake my head, taking a step back. “I have to go.”
That frown between his brows deepens in confusion. Coach opens his mouth, but before he can say anything else, I’m turning on the balls of my feet and running out of the room.
I barely take time to stop by the locker room, hastily grabbing my backpack and duffle bag before I get out of there. My mind is reeling with possibilities as I sprint across the campus—because today, of all days, I had to park all the way on the other side of the lot—while, at the same time, trying to dig the keys out of my backpack.
Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe she’s fine. She has to be fine.
But Coach said medical emergency.
She was fine just hours ago.
I’m panting so hard by the time I get to my car, but I don’t slow down. Tossing the bags inside, I slide into the driver’s seat and start the car.
Usually, it takes about fifteen minutes to get from campus back to our building, but today I made it in eight. The moment I’m in front of our building complex, I just leave my car by the curb. Thankfully, somebody left the front door open, so I didn’t have to ring the bell. Instead, I take two steps at a time. My leg protests, but I ignore the pain, focusing on my goal.
Find Jade.
Figure out what’s going on.
She has to be fine.
Shehasto.
I’m a sweaty mess by the time I make it to Jade’s door and start knocking.
She’s here. She has to be here. It’s not—
“I’m coming. I’m coming. Hold your horse—” The door opens, and I stop my hand just in time so I don’t connect it with Grace’s head. “Prescott? Wha—”
“Where is she?” I look over Grace’s shoulder as if Jade might pop up out of nowhere, but of course, she doesn’t.
“Who?”
“Grace? Is that the delivery?” Grace’s boyfriend comes from the bathroom, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. He stops in his tracks when he sees me. “Wentworth? What’s up, dude?”
“I’m looking for Jade.” I narrow my eyes at Grace, my fingers gripping the doorway so I’m not tempted to push her out of my way and look for Jade myself. “Where is she?”
“I don’t think…”
“Where. Is. She?”
“Massachusetts General.”
I push from the doorway, my fingers curling into fists before I connect my hand with the wall. “Fuck.”
From the corner of my eyes, I can see Grace flinch. Without another word, I turn around and head for the stairs.
“Prescott, it’s n—”
I don’t bother listening.
No, before she can finish, I’m running once again.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
PRESCOTT
Time moves differently when somebody you know orcare aboutis hanging on by a thread. I know that firsthand. Or at least I thought I knew.
