A cold shiver runs down my spine, I’m almost too afraid to ask because I think I know what his answer will be. I swallow hard and ask anyway. “What? What are they saying?”
He sighs before he replies with a tremble in his voice. “The situation could be much worse than we thought.”
For the second time today, I’m bathed in a cold sweat. “You’re freaking me out, man. What the fuck is happening?” My heart thuds in my ears as his shaky words sink in.
“It’s not looking good, Tommy. There’s been a fatality.”
The car swerves to a stop by the hospital entrance, and I jump out. Police try to contain the gathering crowd of fans and reporters, but it’s total mayhem. My only aim is to charge through to reach my best friend as soon as possible. I'm panting like a man three times my age, while my head is a mess with different scenarios. When I burst through the entrance doors, my vision is shot as I try to focus on theactivity and blurry signs above my head. I’m so fucking struck with panic I get confused about which way to turn.
“Tommy,” a familiar voice calls, and someone grabs my arm.
“Bernie, thank fuck.”
“Come this way.” He leads me while looking back. “Jesus, Tommy. Are you all right?”
“Just freaking out a little. How is he, Bern?”
Bernie’s pace turns to a slow step, and I note him assessing the multiple eyes now watching us. He seems on edge too. This isn’t good. “The family room is up here. We can talk better once inside.”
The windowless, stark space is quiet, clinical, and eerie. This room should be a warm and comforting place, but it isn't. The sterile smell burns my throat and adds to the clinical, chilly atmosphere.
Blank faces stare at me, but I register one clearly as I enter. “Angie.”
She’s sobbing and being held by someone, but it’s not Scott. Where the fuck is he? His wife is clearly falling apart. But why? Fuck.Please, God, let Ash be okay. I step towards Angie, but Ash’s mum appears in front of me from a small huddle of bodies with tears streaming down her face.
“Tommy, love,” she says as we hug.
“Tell me it isn’t Ash.”
“What?” she asks against my chest in a hushed voice. She steps back, looking towards Bernie with confusion, then to me.
“Max called. He said there’d been a fatality.”
“He's alive, Tommy. Don't worry. He's bruised, battered, and his leg is in plaster, but he’s conscious and doing well.” She glances at Bernie for a second time, but now she’s angry. “Why didn't you tell him? Can’t you see how worried he is? Just look at the state of him.”
Bernie winces. “I didn’t want to chance any reporters lurking for news, Liz. I’m sorry, but I thought he should be in this room as soon as possible, where we can talk freely.”
“Thank fuck,” I say, maybe a little too loudly. “Then what’s with the mood in this place? This is good news, right?”
Mrs C takes my arm, leading me further away from the others. “Tommy, love. I need to talk to you.”
“Oh, fuck. Not Calla or Zoe. Please?—”
“They were nowhere near the accident, Tom. My sister Gemma is watching Zoe now and Calla is with Ash, which is why she isn’t here, but I promise they’re both fine.”
“Then everyone is okay, yeah? Panic over.” I chew my bottom lip. “Ash has a lot of healing to do, but he’s doing good, isn’t he? Do you think he wants me to take care of Cal? Make sure she’s all right? I can be around until he gets back on his feet. Whatever he needs.”
“They will probably need all the help they can get, but we can talk about that later.”
“Yeah, of course. My head is all over the place.” I run my hand across my brow, a sense of relief and fear running simultaneously through me.
“The thing is, Tom—” Mrs C stops abruptly as the door swings open. Calla’s red, blotchy eyes scan the room and Angie steps away from the person holding her up. Calla’s sobbing body falls into her arms, and I expect Angie to calm her down; to tell her to be happy. Ash’s injuries aren’t life-threatening and everyone can relax. Except something weird is going on. The atmosphere isn’t one of relief. Angie’s body language isn’t comforting or warm, just stiff. Her hands areshaking and her pale skin is drawn as if she’s seen a ghost. What’s wrong with her?
Angie’s tears silently stream down her face while I catch snippets of the words Mrs C is saying to me.
“They did everything possible... too far gone... didn’t make it.”
Fuck.
