“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“Peyton. We met this morning.” She giggled.
Why was she calling and how had she gotten my number? “Okay.”
“I’m calling because Lemon fainted, and she needs you to come get her.”
Before I could respond, she hung up.
“I gotta go,” I said as I jumped off Fred. “Clem passed out.”
Mom called after me, but I didn’t take the time to stop. I could update her later. Peyton had failed to include a lot of key information. If Lemon had regained consciousness. If they’d called for an ambulance. If they were at the studio or the hospital. I called back, but it went to voicemail.
Sixty seconds later, I had the gas pedal all the way to the floor and the truck still wasn’t breaking fifty-five. From my parents’ ranch to The Downward Dog was the longest eleven minutes of my life as I ran every worst-case scenario through my head.
So when I pulled into the parking lot and the only two vehicles were Clem’s and what had to be Peyton’s, and I saw no ambulance or emergency people of any kind, I headed into The Downward Dog full-on broody. The main room was dark and empty. I jogged down the hall to the back room.
Clem was lying on a yoga mat with an orange bolster under her head. Peyton, who I’d met this morning, was next to her.
Clem saw me first and smiled. “Hey.” She sat up slowly, looking pale and weak.
Peyton stood. For the second time today, she eyed me like she was twelve and I was a member of her favorite boy band. It was weird. And annoying.
I walked over to Clem and squatted, resting my forearms on my thighs, studying her beautiful face. “What happened?”
Her green eyes were bleary, and she looked like she could take a four-hour nap. I wanted to reach out and touch her pale cheek, feel if she was cold. But I restrained myself.
“Can we talk about it in the truck?” She tried to get up. I put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She wasn’t walking anywhere.
I scrutinized Peyton, expectantly. She shrugged, pursing her lips. “We were just chatting about Billy. She got really upset and tried to walk to the door and bam!” She smacked her hands together. “That’s all she wrote.”
“Like blacked out all the way?” I asked, trying and failing to mask my irritation.
“Like totally.” She whirled her head around to mimic what Clem looked like on her way down.
I stared at her, incensed at her lack of concern for her friend. “Did you catch her?”
“No, sorry. I was in shock. But the floor is padded, so she’s probably fine.”
My face contorted. I couldn’t stop it.
“I am fine.” Clem tried sitting up again.
I shook my head. “You passed out. That’s the opposite of fine.”
My head cocked at Peyton. “And it didn’t occur to you to, I don’t know, maybe call for an ambulance?” I wasn’t even trying now.
Peyton’s head snapped back a little, and all the twinkle left her eyes. Fine by me. Her doe-eyed fangirling had gotten on my nerves, anyway.
“I told her not to,” Clem said quietly. “Can we just go?”
I wanted to ask her why on earth she would do that. But the vulnerability in her expression told me that she didn’t want to discuss this in front of Peyton.
When I scooped Clem up in my arms, she gasped. Peyton did too. I stepped past Peyton and maneuvered Clem out of the room.
“You don’t need to carry me,” Clem protested.
“Yes, I do.” I strode down the hall and across the big room.
