She presses her hand to her mouth, steadying herself. "You're bruised badly, but thankfully there are no broken bones. Do you remember what happened after you left work last night?"
I search my memory.
Molly appeared just as I was closing. We talked. I cried.
Then there was this weird feeling—an ache I couldn't explain between my legs.
I tried to rush home.
Headlights.
Then—nothing.
"No," I whisper. "I don't— I don't remember much. Just that..." I touch my head, wincing. "I felt strange, though."
"Strange how?" Mom asks carefully.
I try to find words for it. "Dizzy. Hot. I thought—" My face flushes. "I was thinking about Jordan, I think. I'm not sure."
Mom's jaw tightens. "The doctor said confusion is normal with a concussion." But there's an edge in her voice. Something she's not saying.
I let it go and focus on breathing through the pain.
"How long was I out?" I croak.
"Not long," Mom says. "Because of the concussion, they've been waking you up every couple of hours to check on you. You kept cursing at the nurses."
Despite everything, a tiny chuckle escapes me. "Really?"
"You kept saying, 'If you touch my head again, I'll fail calculus.'"
The mention of calculus sends a pang of longing through me. Suddenly I want it back—the version of my life that was ripped to shreds mere weeks ago.
"Where's my phone?" I ask.
Mom frowns. "You should rest, Bree."
"I just—I need to check something. It's important." My bruised brain is screaming for one thing. The one person who's been calling me every day for weeks.
Mom hesitates, then digs into her bag and pulls out my phone. "Just a few minutes," she warns.
"Okay." My hands tremble as I unlock it. And freeze.
I have twenty-seven missed calls.
Ten from a withheld number. And the remaining seventeen from Jordan.
My throat tightens. Jordan tried to call me again last night. And instead of the usual one or two tries, he called seventeen times. And possibly ten more after hiding his caller ID, desperate enough to try anything.
I scroll to his name and hit call before I can talk myself out of it.
The phone rings. And rings. And rings.
Please, Jordan. I'm sorry I ignored you. Please pick up.
A click, then an automated voice cuts in:"The number you are calling is not available. Please try again later or send a text."
I try again. Same thing.
