“What have you done?”
“I fell off my bike, hit my head, and every time I try and ... ohhhh.”
Shit.
“Jane, you need to go to the ER.”
But I already know I’m talking to deaf ears: Jane hates hospitals. We had that in common at least. She won’t go on her own. “Are you dizzy or …”
“A bit. I can’t walk, it’s …” She hiccups in my ear again. “You have to come and help me.”
Go out there?My eyes flit over the sea of spreadsheets on my screen. She’s hit her head.Christ, she needs somebody there. And what kind of person would I be if I didn’t help someone in trouble? No matter what’s gone on between us.
“It will take me more than an hour to get to Brighton Beach from the office. I’ll come, but you have to get yourself to the hospital.”
She goes silent, but I can hear from her breaths that she’s in tears. “I can’t move my arm,” she gulps out. “I tried to stand, but the pain in my chest is just …”
Is she even safe to get herself there if she’s banged her head? “Call 911. Find someone on the boardwalk who can help you. I’m an hour away at least, Jane.”
“I know,” she says with quiet desperation. “I can’t go on my own, Jim-bug. Every time I move I feel sick. I called 911. They said they wereexperiencing a high call volume. I think they decided my injuries weren’t life-threatening.” And she starts crying again.
Jesus.“How long before they get to you?”
“They couldn’t say.”
Christ.“Okay, okay. I’m on my way.”
I head over to Cath, and she raises her eyebrows at me. I lower my voice.
“Jane’s had an accident on her bike that could be nasty. She’s got no one else in New York and I …”
“Go, James. I can handle the team meeting, no problem.”
I study her for a beat. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She makes a shooing motion with her hand. “Go.”
I glance at Sadie across the room. Her head is down, concentrating on something on her screen, and my feet carry me across the floor. She raises her head when I reach her desk. “Jane’s had an accident on her bike. Sounds like she might have broken something. 911 can’t give her a time of arrival and she’s got no one else here in New York, and I think I need to go and …”
She stares at me with wide eyes. “God, James, of course. I hope she’s okay. Can I do anything? You want me to come with you?” She glances toward where Cath is sitting.
“No. There’s no sense in both of us going out there.” I sigh and drum my fingers against the wood of her desk.
Sadie reaches out and stills my hand. “You’re a good friend, James. No matter what’s gone on, it’s the right thing to do. Go.”
She’s always so easy, but it’s more than that, too. It’s like she has some deep, quiet understanding. My eyes roam over her soft hair and her lips, and my body aches.You can’t kiss her here.I take in all the bent heads: The sooner we tell people in the office that we’re a thing, the better.
“Thank you.” I squeeze her fingers on the desk.
She nods. “I’ll talk to you later. Message me when you know how bad it is.”
She’s already making me feel better. I check the time—8:50 a.m.—andglance at the gray sky outside the window. “I will. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
By the time I reach Brighton Beach station, a fine mist of rain has started to fall. I fire off a message to Jane:
Where are you?
On the boardwalk. Near the Aquarium.
