The opposing counsel gives me a tight smile. “Is there a problem, Counselor?”
I ignore him, flipping the phone to see who’d called.
Three missed calls from Alex. Two from Desmond.
My stomach drops.
“Excuse me,” I say, already standing. I don’t ask permission. I’m done asking permission from anyone but my pack. “We’ll need to reschedule. Something urgent has come up.”
“Mr. Anders, my client flew in from –”
“Then your client can fly back.”
I’m out the door before the man finishes his sentence. I call Alex as I move, my stride just short of running as I eat up the space through the office.
Why the fuck is this elevator taking so long to get to his floor?
Alex picks up on the first ring.
“Tell me,” I say.
“He collapsed.” Alex’s voice is raw. There’s a rough edge that throws me straight back to the night he called about the ambulance. “We were in the nest. He tried to get up to pee and just… he went gray. Dropped. Des caught him but he was out for a solid minute.”
“What did the doctor say last week about his blood pressure?” My tone is clipped, but my heart’s about to pound out of my chest.
“That it was borderline, too low, and that we needed to be careful. Mason, he’s not waking up fully. His eyes keep rolling. The ambulance is on the way, but it feels like it’s been forever since Des called them.”
The doors finally open. I step in and stab the button for the lobby.
“Put me on speaker,” I say.
“Baby, just meet us at the hospital, okay?”
The elevator doors close and I stare at my reflection in the mirrored wall. My tie’s perfect. My hair – perfect.
But inside, everything is in shambles.
“Which hospital?” I ask.
He tells me and I hang up.
By the time the elevator reaches the lobby, I’ve texted my assistant to clear my calendar for the week. Not the day.Theweek. I fire off another message to the senior staff. They can handle the case load. I am done pretending the firm will fall apart if I leave it alone for more than eight hours.
Once I’m finally outside, I jog toward my Maserati, my heartbeat louder than the slap of my shoes on concrete.
He collapsed. Hudson collapsed.
Triplets.
Low blood pressure.
The words echo around my skull like someone dropped them into an empty courtroom.
I slide behind the wheel and pull out with more speed than is technically legal. The hospital is fifteen minutes away.
I make it in eight.
I don’t remember the lights. I barely register the horns. All I can see is Hudson’s face the first time he saw the sonogram, the tears that rolled down his cheeks when he whispered, “Three.”
