Page 106 of Beg Me

“I think you’re pretty calm and pretty smart. But call me any time. I’ll have my phone on.”

“Thanks, Gianna.”

“Of course. Since I know Nettie’s around, I’m going to call her for an update on Brooks's friends. It’ll give me something to think about aside from worrying about you.”

“You’re just nosey.”

“So?”

I smile. “Well, I hope she gives you all the details.”

“She will.” She laughs. “Call me.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

I hold my phone to my chest and consider calling Jory. But he hasn’t called me, and he’s probably busy with Gus. Besides, didn’t he just tell me goodbye?

Me: I’m saying a prayer for Gus and his family. You are all in my thoughts.

I hit send and wait a few minutes, but there’s no reply. So, I roll over onto my side, tugging his practice shirt over my bent knees, and try to sleep.

Wisdom is in the space between emotion and acting on it.

Let’s hope it hits me before I wake up.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

Jory

Everything hurts.

“Dr. Michaels, please call Extension 2244. Dr. Michaels, Extension 2244.”

I shift my weight, groaning as my right hip throbs from sitting in the car for eight hours. I got speared by an opponent a few years ago—his head drove straight into my bone—and it’s never been quite right since.

My elbows rest on my knees, a paper cup halfway filled with nasty-ass coffee between my hands. The growing acidity in my stomach, either from the coffee or worrying about Gus and Markie, feels like a hole burning through the lining. I grimace, rubbing my eyes with the back of one hand. I’d give almost anything to be in bed right now.

I take out my phone and reread Markie’s text. I didn’t get it until we got here, and I truly hope she didn’t wait on me to respond. I’ve warred with whether to just respond to it now at this ungodly hour and hope it doesn’t wake her up, or whether to wait until a more respectable hour and just call her.

Neither seem right.

Nothing about this godforsaken day seems right.

“Dr. Michaels, please call Extension 2244. Dr. Michaels, Extension 2244.”

If I knew how to call the extension, I’d do it and pretend to be Dr. Michaels just to stop the announcement every five minutes.

I look up as the doors to the waiting room open and spot Gus. He waves to some of Deidre’s family members on the other side of the room but makes a beeline my way.

My boy.

“Hey,” I say, wrapping my arm around him as he sits beside me. His big, green eyes are filled with emotion. He’s been crying, evident by the tear stains on his cheeks. “How are you doing?”

He shrugs. “I’m sad.”