I want more.
I like them damn it. And I like that they like me back.
I grab Miles’s T-shirt from the pile, pull it over my head, and answer.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Ashford.” His voice is tight, professional. “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night. There’s been an incident.”
Not the news I was expecting. I straighten. “What kind of incident?”
“Your father was assaulted at the hospital yesterday evening.”
Everything goes cold. “What—how bad?”
“Serious but stable. He’s under observation atSt. Augustine Memorial. He remains an inmate, so access will have restrictions.”
“Why wasn’t I told sooner?” I snap.
“When I couldn’t get you, I contacted the university office on file, but you’ve withdrawn and there’s no other number on file. They couldn’t reach you.”
I press a shaking hand to my forehead. “Can I see him?”
“I’m afraid visits are limited. But if you call ahead and I coordinate with the warden, we might secure a short slot.”
“Do it,” I say. “And send me the details.”
The call ends. I toss the phone on the bed and start looking for pants, heart hammering.
A low voice from behind me. “Chloe?”
Miles’s tone is rough from sleep. He sits up, confusion creasing his face. Jamie stirs too, dragging a hand through his hair.
“What’s going on?” Jamie asks.
“I have to go,” I say, pulling open drawers. “I just—need to leave.”
“Why?”
“It’s nothing. It’s fine.”
Jamie swings his legs over the side of the bed, stands, and catches my wrist as I try to pass. “Stop. Tell us what’s wrong.”
I freeze. My throat feels like sandpaper. “It’s my father. He—he was attacked. He’s at the hospital.” I tell them everything, my voice tight.
Jamie’s jaw tightens. “You saidSt. Augustine?”
I nod.
“Fuck. That’s over an hour away,” he mutters, pacing once, hand dragging over his mouth. “I’ll drop you off.”
“No, I’ll take an Uber.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“Jamie, it’s fine.”
Miles is already pulling on jeans. “We’ll both take you.”
