“So, twin collars?” Paige grins, resting her back against the car.
“If you two are getting them, I think I’ll invest in one too.” I rub my hands up and down her shivering arms. “We should get going.”
Paige nods, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she looks up at me with a playful smirk. It’s an invitation. One I quickly RSVP to as I press my lips to hers.
When our lips finally part, I kiss her on the forehead and wrap my arms around her back, pulling her into me. “This was an amazing birthday gift, Paige. Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had that much fun.”
Paige pulls just far enough away for me to see her face. “You know, Penny for Crows is playing in San Francisco in a few weeks. Maybe we should try for round two. This time, we’ll be prepared and bring our collars.”
I know Paige is just teasing, but the thought of more nights like tonight in California makes me want to rent a truck and pack up my house immediately.
Paige slips into the passenger seat, and I close the door behind her before hopping into the driver’s side and starting the car. The time on the display panel lights up. It’s almost midnight. Somehow, in the noise and excitement of the night, I missed my nine o’clock alarm and forgot to call Mom.
I fish my phone out of my pocket. Mom was with Dan tonight, so she probably would have let my call go to voicemail anyway, but I figure I might as well text her.
When I press on my phone screen, my stomach bottoms out when I see a series of missed calls from Mom—followed by a text from Dan sent over two hours before.
Dan: Jordan, your mom is in the hospital. Please call when you get this.
Chapter 32
PAIGE
The heart rate monitor beeps at steady intervals, slicing into the room’s deafening silence. Jordan sits in a chair, holding his mom’s hand as she lies limply in the ER bed, a thick white band of gauze circling her head. Dan stands on the other side of the bed with his arms folded across his chest, and I watch them from my chair against the wall. I take to an old habit, biting my nails as we all wait anxiously for the doctor to return with news.
After receiving Dan’s initial text, Jordan called him back immediately. Dan explained that Mrs. Miller had tripped over a lamp cord while trying to make space in her living room for a blanket project she was working on. When she tripped, she slammed head-first into her living room wall and cut open herforehead. She’d called Jordan to see if he could take her to the hospital and then Dan, but by the time Dan had arrived at her house, she had bled out quite a bit. Jordan and I were on the road before Dan got off the phone. We arrived at the hospital three tension-filled hours later.
A hollowness shadows Jordan’s eyes as he watches his mother’s sleeping form. I can almost feel the weight of the blame he’s putting on his shoulders. I move to Jordan’s side and place my hand on his back, letting him know I’m here for him in whatever small way I can be. But his posture is rigid and guarded, just like it has been since we left Aspen.
When the doctor finally arrives, Jordan shifts in his seat. It’s barely a movement, but it’s enough to tell me that he’s still present.
“Good morning,” the doctor says.
I look at my watch. It’s just after four in the morning. Seeing the time seems to make me tune in to my body—suddenly I’m all too aware of my lethargic muscles and sagging eyelids. It seems like an entire week has passed since Jordan and I were in Aspen enjoying the concert when, in reality, it’s just been one very long night.
The doctor looks at Jordan. “The good news is that your mom’s scans have all come back normal.”
A breath of relief escapes my lungs.
“And the bad news?” Jordan asks, his voice hoarse from disuse.
“We’d like to keep her at the hospital for a few more hours,” the doctor says. “There’s nothing to worry about, but given your mom’s medical history, we think it would be best to keep her under observation a little longer.”
Jordan and Dan thank the doctor before he slips out of the room, leaving us in the company of the beeping monitors.
Not long after, several nurses enter the room and transfer Mrs. Miller from the ER to another hospital wing. Jordan, Dan, and I follow. Between the movement and the many nurses prodding Mrs. Miller, she wakes up.
When Mrs. Miller sees Jordan, her face lifts in a weak smile. By the look of her drowsy eyes and the sound of her slow speech, I can tell she’s still worn out from her injury and tired from the constant interruption to her sleep.
“Jordan, we should give your mom time to rest.” Dan motions us outside, and when I exit the room, Jordan reluctantly follows.
“Why don’t you two go get some sleep, and I’ll text you with any updates,” Dan offers.
Jordan shakes his head. “No, I’m staying here.” He looks at Dan. “I should have… I thought you were with her tonight.” Jordan’s voice is not accusatory—rather, he sounds like he’s trying to piece together how things went so wrong in the space of a few hours.
“I was supposed to be.” Dan’s voice is deep and calm. “But my daughter in Pueblo needed help moving a few things into her new apartment at the last minute, so I went to help her.”
“I shouldn’t have left. I should have been there for Mom,” Jordan mutters to himself.
