Call him.
You’re wasting time.
And it’s not your time to waste.
With my lips pressed together in a tight line, I grab my phone and type the number in, gripping it tightly as I hold it up to my ear.
It might not even—
It’s ringing.
“Ben?”
The voice, deep and slightly out of breath, takes me by surprise.
“Ben,” he says again, urgency lacing his words. “Is that you?”
He doesn’t sound like someone who walked out on his sick brother.
He sounds… desperate.
“Please,” he breathes when I don’t say anything. “Please say something. Tell me you’re alright. Tell me you’re still—,”
His voice cuts off on a choked sound, and I close my eyes.
My own voice is small. “Jared? You’re Jared Bennett?”
Silence. Only ragged breathing meets my question. I wait, pressing the phone against my cheek tightly.
“Is he dead?”
The question, abrupt and harsh compared to the plea of a few seconds earlier, makes me inhale sharply.
“No,” I say quietly. My eyes flick to the bed. “He’s still here.”
Silence, filled only with the sound of Jared’s breathing. “Who the hell are you?”
He sounds angry now. I flinch against nothing but air, my hold on the phone slipping slightly. “I’m a friend of Ben’s. He… he’s not doing well. Can you… can you come? He wants you here.”
“Tell me where you are.” I can hear him scrambling, the metallic sound of cutlery clanging as he slams a drawer closed.
I reel off Ben’s address.
He’s breathing heavily, but I can hear the wetness in it. “I’m a few hours away. Will he still be alive when I get there?”
I close my eyes as a shield against the agony in his question. “Yes.”
“And this is your number? What’s your name? Put Ben on the phone.”
He’s throwing questions at me now, even as he rushes around. I can hear him, doors banging and the sound of clothes hangers jangling together. “Yourname.”
“Emilia,” I force out. “E- Emmy. Marsters. He’s asleep at the moment.”
“Emilia.” His voice settles into something cooler. “Fine. I’m on my way.”
And then Jared Bennett hangs up on me.
22
