Page 87 of Bastard Bartender

Mario couldn’t give me too much information, as he wasn’t on the scene. He rang from his car on his way across the desert in his own mad dash to the hospital. Dro was with Nic and has been in touch with the guys and Nic’s parents.

The road is open as I sail east in the direction the GPS is sending me. I should be happy I’m on an open road, pushing ninety miles an hour to get to him, but I’m super flustered, as it’s just not fast enough.

My fist bangs hard on the steering wheel in frustration as hot, burning tears stream down my face.

“Nicolás, you fucking asshole!”

My cries are for no one to hear but myself. I told him this was wrong. I asked him not to go, and he made me choose. That asshole made me choose between his freedom and my sanity. I was left to feel like the fool who worried too much. And in the end, I was that girl. Yes, the girl I hate to be. The one who lets a man dictate how she feels.

I was right.

I saw the writing on the wall. BASE jumping is illegal with a high percentage of injury and fatality, and I told him.

I fucking told him.

He chose this over my feelings, over his safety.

There’s a sharp pang in my chest. It’s ripe with worry and anger and hurt. There are so many emotions building inside me. I just don’t know which to let surface at the moment.

Worry.

I pray over and over as the car careens over the pavement, weaving in and out of cars, driving as fast as I can to see my man. He needs to be okay. My sweet, funny, wild man needs to be okay. And if he’s not? There’s no question. I will be by his side in spite of my anger.

The thought has me smiling, which is not the kind of reaction I should be having. I think it’s because in this very moment, I can honestly say I am absolutely, unequivocally in love with Nicolás.

Being there to hold his hand, tending to him, doesn’t frighten me.

It takes a great deal of love to be able to know in your heart that’s the kind of commitment you’re willing to make to someone. I was wrong. I’m not a cliché; I’m clarity. I really have never felt this way about someone before.

A calm washes over me at this thought. I love Nic. I truly do.

Which brings me back to worry because I need him to be alive. Mario said Nic was in a coma. I’ve watched enough Grey’s Anatomy to know not everyone pulls through.

Oh, for the love of Meredith Grey, why am I even thinking this?

It’s because Nic is an asshole who has to do stupid things to prove he’s alive …

Anger.

Yes, I’m definitely feeling that now, and it’s fast morphing into hurt.

I wish he’d chosen my concerns over his desires. I was just trying to protect him.

I scroll through my phone and call Nic’s mom from the number she gave me when we met. I let her know I’m on my way to the hospital as well, so she has another set of eyes and ears at the scene.

“Dios mío, my baby boy. What in the hell was he thinking, jumping off the side of a mountain?” she cries into the phone.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Santiago. I tried to talk him out of it, but I couldn’t.”

“He is such a hothead, that one. He’s always thinking of himself and never anyone else. We made sacrifices for him, and he acts like he was a caged animal. This is enough. When I get to him, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind!”

Mrs. Santiago clearly thinks Nic is pulling through. I have to believe like her.

I promise I’ll keep in touch, and she hangs up to make her travel arrangements to fly out tonight.

With sweaty palms, I grip the steering wheel and get off the exit I almost missed because I’m trapped in my own head. Hurt, worry, anger … none of my feelings matter right now until I know how Nic is doing.

My body is on autopilot as I park in the massive lot and make my way into the hospital emergency room. Dro is in the middle of the room with his phone to his ear. Mario is beside him, hands on hips and pacing. Logan is seated quietly.