“I didn’t ask for your thoughts on the matter.” She throws me a stern look. “You’re going to the hospital because you inhaled a lot of smoke, and the state will pay for it. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She reminds me of Marina a little—scary but caring.
She helps me into the back of an ambulance and tells the driver to go. Little Hope is not a big town, so the drive to the clinic takes less than five minutes.
I’m admitted to the trauma side. The clinic building is huge, I’d consider it a tiny hospital by local standards, but there are not enough doctors and nurses in Little Hope, so it feels eerily deserted.
I heard that a long time ago, when the clinic was built, it was famous for its family of doctors who worked there generation after generation. But at some point, one of them got bored and moved to a big city, and the clinic began dying out. A shame, really, because the place is enormous, and Little Hope could certainly use some good people.
A doctor knocks on the door to check up on me, circles under his eyes.
He listens to the paramedic repeating my vitals and the situation as his eyes scan his clipboard with furrowed brows.
“This town has changed so much,” he mutters, sounding personally offended. “Assaulted. At Marina’s place downtown.” He shakes his head in disapproval. “Your vitals look good,” he declares after a moment, glancing over me perfunctorily, “but I want to keep you overnight. The nurse will come to check on you later. Now get some rest. You look like you’ve been through hell.”
“Thank you?” I want to laugh at his statement, but I also want to cry.
He sweeps from the room, and Rachel takes his place beside me, “I’ll let Mark know the room number. He’ll want to check on you.” She tells me, her voice soft.
I nod with a quiet “thank you.” She smiles and disappears through the door, and I’m left alone with the events of the evening. But not for long.
Mark bursts in a minute later, face smudged with ashy streaks from the fire. “Kayla, you okay? Rachel told me they’re keeping you overnight.” His mouth pulls down in a grimace. “Is it that bad?”
I wave his worry off. “No, they just want to make sure I didn’t inhale too much smoke. I’m fine, really.”
“Okay.” His relieved sigh is heavy and loud. “How did you get out of the diner?”
“Justin.”
“Justingot you out?” Disbelief is apparent in his voice.
I still can’t believe it either. I loosely shrug one shoulder, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah. He and Alex Crowley were there, and he… yeah.”
“Huh.” His eyes are focused on the wall, lost in his thoughts. “I guess he got one thing right.”
I chew on my lip, contemplating whether I should ask Mark to do something he won’t like. I decide to go through with my request. I don’t have any other choice. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure. What’s up?” He scratches his cheek, smearing the black smudges further.
“Can you find out what happened at Alex Crowley’s house tonight?”
His gaze meets mine, puzzled. “But you just said—”
“Yeah, it’s a long story I don’t even understand myself,” I explain haplessly. “That’s why I need you to help me out. Can you?”
He nods, disappearing for about half an hour. When he returns, he delivers the news that Freya was admitted here, too, but is staying in another wing, and that she’s got a good handful of visitors—including Justin and Jake. I ache to go and check on her, but I don’t have the mental capacity to battle with either of the Attenborough’s right now.
Mark’s lips are firmly pressed together after he delivers all the news about the events that he could gather. “You know what’s not fair? That you’re here alone—”
The door bursts open, and Marina flies in. Noticing me on the bed, she throws herself on me and envelopes me in a bear hug.
“You were saying?” I quirk a brow at Mark over her shoulder, a wry look on my face. Despite my elation at having visitors, I can’t help the sting deep down when faced with the fact that I’m damn lucky eventwopeople are here for me.
After hugs, a hundred questions, and apologies, Marina releases me and discreetly dabs her eyes with a tissue. She fluffs the pillow under my head, tucks the blanket around me, and takes a seat in the chair beside the bed, making sniffling sounds.
Only a moment later, Kenneth Benson, the local sheriff and Alex Crowley’s half-brother, bustles inside after a quick knock. “Sorry, Kayla, I was a little preoccupied with the madness happening in Little Hope today.”
He takes my statement and tells me the same version of events that Mark already revealed, confirming my suspicions that I was most likely attacked by the same person who attacked Freya—her vicious ex. And that he’s not a threat to any of us anymore.
