Did he mean my Aiden?
“Aiden? Mercer? What about him?”
“Yes! He’s been in an accident.”
My blood turned to ice as I asked, “Wait… what? I’m confused. How…”
“Aiden… he’s our son, Sasha.”
THIRTY-SIX
SASHA
The words… I understood them individually, but when I tried to comprehend them… yeah, they didn’t make any sense. Mikal continued talking, adding more and more words that dumped into the slurry of confusion I still couldn’t unravel.
“Sasha, we got a call from the police. They found his Jeep in a ditch. He doesn’t do well in hospitals. Anya and I are on our way…”
“The hospital? The university hospital?”
“Yes!” Anya called in the background. “He’s at The U’s hospital. Alexander, can you…”
I darted to the dresser, grabbing my keys, wallet, and Hawk’s leash. “I’m heading out the door now. I’ll call you back once I see him. Did they say… did you speak with him?”
“No one would tell us anything over the phone,” Anya cried.
“Storm, we’re hoping since you’re his coach…”
“I’ll get in that room if I have to buy my way in,” I said, hanging up the phone.
Or beat the ass off anyone standing in my way.
I made my way to the stairwell, shoving through the door and running down the steps, Hawk at my side the entire way. Idiotic didn’t cover just how stupid it was for me to go tearing down stairs like this, my vision being what it is, but Aiden, the little shit, needed me.
As did his dad.
My best fucking friend.
Whose son I’d been fucking.
At the foot of the stairs, I yanked open the door, bouncing it off the concrete wall. It smacked me in the back before I could get through it. Ewen was walking toward the stairs and witnessed the whole thing.
“That door do something to piss you off, Storm?”
“Fuck off.”
The anxiety and fear rolled around in the mucky mess that was my head and chest and came out as hostility.
An eyebrow flew to Ewen’s forehead as he cocked his head. “You wanna try that again?”
Clenching my fists and squeezing shut my eyes, I took a deep breath when everything in me wanted nothing more than to wail on the guy I’d started to consider a friend. A friend who could hopefully give me a ride, since my attitude was beyond my control.
With a trembling chin, I said, “I need a ride.”
“There’s an app for that.”
The hard, sharp edge of his voice gave me pause. I opened my eyes and Ewen, the Marine, greeted me—shoulders back, arms folded over his chest, his feet spread apart as he stared me down.
“I don’t have time. I need a ride now.” My voice trembled.
