Something inside me sits up, and my stomach tenses. I run out of the shower, grabbing the towel as I try not to slip on the tiles.
It’s Dylan.
“Hello?”
“Marissa,” he says, then stops.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask as I maneuver the towel around myself with one hand.
“I’m…” again, he breaks off.
I frown. Maybe the signal is bad.
“Marissa, Junior’s been in a car accident.”
Chapter 31
Marissa
“Marissa, Junior’s been in a car accident.”
My phone drops from my hand. Once the words register, I fall to my knees to pick it back up.
“Dylan, what happened?” I ask while clutching the phone in my numb hand. “Where is he? Is he alive? Please tell me he’s okay?”
“He looks fine, but please get here as soon as you can. They’re doing some tests now.”
“Okay, okay, bye.”
I run downstairs in a trance, holding the towel around my body with one hand and my phone with the other. The now-cold water from my hair is sliding down my neck and shoulders.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Hawk asks me, frowning.
My face contorts into sobs. “It’s DJ. He’s been in an accident.”
“Tell me what you know,” he says as he takes the phone from me so he can hold my hand.
His touch steadies me.
“Dylan called. He’s at the hospital. We have to go down there,” I manage to say after a while.
“Okay. Here’s what we need to do. I’ll turn off the stove, grab a protein bar and some fruit for you. You go get dressed, alright? We’ll then pack Eddie and a change of clothes for DJ, and we’ll drive down there, okay? I’ll call everyone from the car.”
“Okay,” I struggle to breathe through the terror that is squeezing my ribcage mercilessly. “Okay. I’ll go put some clothes on.”
“You can do this,” Hawk says against my temple before kissing it gently; so gently I start crying again. “Shhhh, it’s okay. Let’s go see our boy.”
On the drive to Tucson, I can’t stop bouncing my leg or running the palm of my right hand over the fabric of my cut. My left one is trapped in Hawk’s tight grip.
He occasionally shoots me a concerned look, but he’s mostly focused on the phone calls he’s making. Each person is on speakerphone, but I don’t hear a thing they’re saying.
The woman at the front desk tells us where to go, and we run like we’re being chased.
The hospital smell triggers the memory of the aftermath of my kidnapping.
I think I’m going to vomit.
I’m out of breath by the time we stumble upon Dylan arguing with two police officers and a middle-aged woman in a blazer and a pencil skirt.
