My heart starts to hammer in my chest. “Well, he’s not here. I haven’t seen him since yesterday midday when I left town.”
“Crap.” A pause. “Did he say he was going somewhere? Did he say anything to you?”
“No. I thought he was with you guys.”
“Crap,” Audrey says again.
Holy freaking crap. I swallow down my irrational panic. “Maybe he forgot to charge his phone.”
“Yeah, but then where is he? He’s not at Damage Control, or with anyone we know. He won’t answer the door to his apartment, and the lock seems to be jammed.”
“What about his sister? Maybe he went to visit?”
“Midweek?” Audrey sounds skeptical. “Let me see if Ash has her number to call. Stay put, I’ll call you back.”
“Okay.”
The call disconnects, and I bite my lip. Worry has my stomach tied up in knots. Where is he? God, I hope he’s okay.
Sunlight pours through a glass door, and I head that way. Suddenly, being outside is a physical need. The walls are closing in on me. I ran to the door, open it and step out into a parking lot.
I suck in lungfuls of cool air and jiggle the cell in my hand, as if that will make it ring sooner. I pace the yard as I wait, walking between the cars, looking at the buildings rising beyond the fence.
When the cell finally rings, I almost drop it in my haste to answer. “Yeah?”
“Dakota. His sister died yesterday. His brother-in-law says Zane was at the funeral this morning, then he left to drive back to Madison.”
“Oh shit.” I bend over, a hand over my stomach. Jesus. “Could he…” God, please no. “An accident? Is it possible…?”
“We have Rafe and Tyler calling all hospitals in the area. So far it doesn’t seem like he was admitted to any. There weren’t many accidents on the road this morning.”
“Then where is he?”
Audrey moves away from the phone, speaking to someone, presumably Ash. Then she’s back. “Ash is saying he’s going to try and break down the door of Zane’s apartment.”
A different kind of fear twists my insides. “What does he think happened?”
Audrey sighs. “Just come over, will you? We’re heading that way now.”
“Yeah.” I stumble as I head back inside. “I can be there in half an hour.”
I hang up without saying goodbye, too stressed for social niceties. I run through the hospital, lose my way again and end up calling Dad to tell him I have to go. I barely hear what he says before I hang up and ask for directions. Then I’m running through halls and down more corridors, finally stepping out into another lot where my car is parked.
Praying the engine will endure one more trip back to Madison, I step on the gas and gun it down the highway. I don’t bother with music. Can’t bear it, my head’s too full of noise as it is.
The scars down his arms. The shadow of pain in his eyes. Please, let him not have done anything to himself.
His sister died, and I wasn’t there for him. I didn’t know. But it doesn’t matter. I frigging wasn’t there.
Fear is a cold hand between my shoulder blades, digging sharp nails into my lungs.
Please let him be okay.
I hear the sound of sirens as I approach Zane’s building, and the claws of fear tear into me deeper. A coincidence, I think, as I turn into his street, and park. Please let it be a coincidence.
The ambulance rolls down the street and parks not twenty feet away, its lights flashing.
Holy shit.
By the time I throw my door open and step out, paramedics are rushing into the building, and I run after them, my heart in my throat. Their boots pound up the stairs, and I hurry to keep up. Maybe it’s not for Zane, I think vaguely, even as I put in another burst of speed. Maybe it’s someone else in the building. Doesn’t have to be for Zane.
But then I find his door bashed in, wide open, and voices drift through. Ash, I think. Tyler. Erin and Audrey.
Swallowing my fear, I rush inside, only to be stopped by a scene of post-apocalyptic disaster. Broken furniture, the window smashed open, shards of glass everywhere. Zane’s drawings, torn and ruined.
And then I see him, lying on his side on the floor—limp, his eyes closed. I barely recognize him. His Mohawk is mostly gone, cut unevenly, close to the scalp. He has an oxygen mask strapped over his mouth, and he looks deathly pale.
No.
The paramedics lift him onto a stretcher and roll him on his side. He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t move.
My knees turn to water, and I grip the doorjamb not to fall. The air is heavy with the sharp stench of vomit and alcohol.
“Hey, girl.” Audrey appears at my side and puts an arm around me. “You made it.”
“What happened?” I can’t see any blood, and oh God, I’m so thankful for that.
“Not sure.” Audrey’s voice is faint. “He’s not breathing so well. They think it may be alcohol poisoning.” She shivers. “We had to break down the door. Took a while.”
I watch numbly as the paramedics take Zane’s pulse, their faces drawn into masks of worry, and I start to shake. My eyes burn like fire.
“He’ll be okay,” Audrey says and pulls me in closer. “He could have choked on his vomit. He was lucky.”
Lucky. I tear myself free of Audrey’s hold and stumble toward the stretcher. “How is he?”
The paramedic shrugs. “Dehydration, low sugar levels.” He nods at his colleague, who’s inserting a needle into Zane’s hand. “We’re working on that.”
Quickly and efficiently, they attach a tube to the needle, and one of them holds up a clear bag with fluid. “Let’s go.”
They lift the stretcher, and Ash steps in to hold up the bag. Together, they take Zane out and down the stairs. Audrey tugs me along with Erin and Tyler, and we follow them to the ambulance, watch as they load him in.
“He’s not even conscious,” I choke out.
“Come on,” Tyler says, “let’s follow them to the hospital.”
Audrey tugs on my hand, and I nod, my throat so tight I can’t speak.
“He’s a strong guy,” she says. “He’ll pull through.”
Was there a chance he wouldn’t? Crap. I can’t hold back the tears anymore. She curls an arm around me as my breath hitches. I sob on her shoulder, trying to be quiet—as if it matters. She leads me toward her car and bundles me inside, then Ash slides into the driver’s seat and we’re off.
Through my tears, I watch the buildings and cars streak by. How did this happen? He almost drank himself to death.
‘I don’t need it when you’re here.’
His sister died, and I wasn’t there.
The buildings turn into weeping faces, the cars into snapping jaws, and I curl on the backseat, wishing this nightmare was over. That I’d never gotten the call about Aunt Carolina, that I’d never left town.
That time would turn back to yesterday morning and just stop.