Zeth’s late.
He said he would be around by eight and he isn’t here. I’ve been back at my apartment for approximately one hour, long enough to grab some clothes and toiletries, plus my computer and my medical bag, and the rest of the time I’ve been sitting on my couch, waiting. Waiting for Zeth to show up. And so far he hasn’t. It’s eight forty-five. Forty-five minutes late. Where the hell is he? Zeth doesn’t exactly strike me as a guy who would be late for anything. It goes hand in hand with the whole honesty thing. If he says he’s gonna do something, he’s the type of person who does it, no excuses. Which has caused a deep well of doubt within me; maybe I shouldn’ have admitted that I wanted him in my life earlier. Maybe that was the stupidest thing I could ever have said to a man like him. My mother always did say that a guy would lose interest the moment you made things too easy for him. I’m pretty sure she was referring to sex at the time, though, and Zeth has already had that from me. No, sex has never been the real challenge between us. It’s what’s inside us that’s been the hardest thing to crack, and I gave in earlier, after holding off for so long. And now Zeth Mayfair hasn’t come to collect me.
I feel like throwing up.
It’s nine fifteen when my cell phone rings. I answer, heart pounding in my chest. “Zeth? Where are you? I—”
“Lost him already, sweetheart?” the man on the other end of the line asks. Rebel. Fucking Rebel, not Zeth. Again! He makes a soft chuckling noise, breath distorting the line. “You need me to send out the search party?”
I can’t fucking believe it. This guy just doesn’t seem to know when he’s not welcome, be that in person or on the other end of a phone. “What the hell do you want, Rebel?”
“Just checking to see what time you’re gonna be arriving. I’m having trouble keeping your sister in bed. Strange, really. I’ve never had that problem before. Usually I have problems getting her out of it.”
“Oh my god, you did not just say that.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling sharply. Tonight just keeps getting better. First I’ve totally screwed things up with Zeth, and now my brand-new brother-in-law is spilling about his sex life with my asshole of a sister. Something else is bound to happen, something utterly horrifying—they do say these things happen in threes. I don’t even want to think about what the third thing might be.
“Rebel, I’m not coming. I already told you—”
“Check your email,” he says. And then he hangs up.
“Fucking—fuck you, asshole!” I glare at my phone, grinding my teeth together, wishing just for a moment that the guy was standing in front of me so I could punch him in his face. Unbelievable. And he wants me to check my email? How on earth did he get my freaking email address? I don’t give that to anyone. I only have my work account, and the only people who have that are the hospital and Pippa. Not even my folks have it. But sure enough when I check the mail icon on my cell, there, among the numerous unread notices from St. Peter's, is a message from an address I don't recognize: [email protected]. Fastfuck83? Seriously? That sounds like a spam account from a sex site. The subject line is the only reason why I even open the damn message. It reads: body temp: 102, 140/90, PaCO2 36 mmHG. Only someone wanting to get a doctor's attention would send numbers like that. They’re patient stats...and they’re bad ones.
Inside the email, the message reads:
3412 Freemantle
Ribera, NM
87560
There’s nothing else. I google Ribera, New Mexico, and quickly find that it’s a tiny community not far from Santa Fe. The population is only just over a thousand people. It’s obviously where Rebel’s taken my sister.
Those stats are terrible. They indicate my sister has a seriously bad infection that’s affecting the rest of her body, on the brink of shutting it down. Her blood pressure is dangerously high, and her temperature is through the roof. Plus those CO2 levels are reduced, too. It all points to sepsis. Either Alexis is in really bad shape, or Rebel’s figured out how to make it look like she is. Regardless, I still just can’t bring myself to hightail it over there. I just can’t. Ever since we left the hospital in San Jacinto, I’ve been trying so hard to let go of the anger that’s been gnawing at me. The anger that Lexi caused when she lied and consciously made a decision to let me, Mom and Dad live through hell the past few years. It was unforgivably selfish. And then to tell this guy that I didn’t care about her, that my work was more important, after everything I did and gave up to try and find her? No. Just no. I hit reply.
Take her to a hospital.