I turn on the faucet and shove my hands underneath, watching the stained water pool as I scrub them clean. When I’m finished, I rinse out my mouth and splash my face.
I brace my arms on the counter. All I see is Ryder, and my muscles vibrate, still feeling her body writhe in pain underneath my hands.
Forcing some slow breaths, I try to calm the adrenaline and fear enough to find the waiting room.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it from my pocket.
Maggie.
I silence it. I have no doubt news is breaking hard and fast.
My fingers jab the screen as I attempt to get them to cooperate so I can send a message.
ME: I’m ok. Ryder is hurt. I’ll keep you posted. Please tell Hank and everyone else. I can’t talk right now.
MAGGIE: Ok. I love you.
My phone buzzes again.
NICK: You ok? Dammit. Text me.
ME: I’m ok.
It buzzes again, but I shove it in my pocket, unable to handle any more until I know Ryder will be all right.
I follow the signs to the surgical waiting area. When I turn the corner, I find Tracker and Hope, along with TJ, Jamie, and Jos, standing in a huddle.
My heart sinks with blame as Tracker’s red eyes shift toward me.
“Have you heard. . .anything?” I ask carefully, knowing at least TJ is likely ready to finish what was attempted in the parking lot.
Hope moves to me. “No, we just got here and were told it’d be a while.”
I nod as my throat grows tight. I drop my head and notice my shirt is smeared with blood. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe again.
Jos’s fingers wrap around my arm. “Come on. Let’s sit down.”
I fall onto a chair, and my eyes drift over the speckled floor.
“Do you know what happened?” Tracker asks, moving in front of me.
I shake my head. “I got off the bus and saw her running, but. . .the next thing I knew, she slammed into me, and we were on the ground.” I pause. “I didn’t know what happened. That she’d been shot.”
I swallow, trying to ease the fire consuming my throat.
“Did you see who did it?” It’s TJ’s low voice, and I can’t look at him.
I shake my head again. “I think they got him. I saw someone being held down, but I couldn’t see. . . I don’t even know why Ryder was there. I. . . ” I replay it, trying to wrap my head around it all.
Tracker squats down in front of me. “She called me. Something she saw from the after-game report spurred a memory, and she realized we’d gotten it wrong.”
I drag my head up to look at him. “What?”
“Mindy wasn’t the one threatening you, or at least she wasn’t the only one.” He pauses, and his gray eyes hold mine like he wants to be sure I’m listening. “It was Will Jenkins.”
My fragile mind blows into a thousand pieces.
Jenkins?
