was up. He’s been acting strange. When I tracked his phone, he was in Ferndale. I just got a call from his mother. They’ve airlifted him from Eureka to West Hills.”
A cold chill travels down my spine at the mention of our hometown. It’s a sore spot in our friendship. The name alone makes all the guys act irrational, out of fear.
“We need to leave. Now.”
With a slew of curse words, I shoot to my feet and dress in record time. The penthouse is a fucking mess, but that’ll have to wait until later. I follow Marcus out, my head spinning with theories. For years, there’s been dead silence on the Ferndale front. No one spoke about that summer, and no one bothered looking into the case, but something has changed. Why now? Why is someone digging nine years later?
Who the fuck would care?
During the entire ride to West Hills Medical, my phone is blowing up with article after article, posting about Vincent’s apparent wreck. Some tabloids claim it’s drugs, others drunk driving, while others merely wrote the bare minimum. Once the calls start coming through, I heave a tired sigh. That was the thing about the media and being in the spotlight. The vultures just sit in lieu with the others and wait for the shoe to drop. They wait for a morsel of a story they can spin. And this? They didn’t need to wait long. One of us in a car accident is enough of a story and fodder to keep them going for the next two weeks, before they move on to the next poor, unfortunate soul.
I rake a frustrated hand through my hair, still feeling the effects of the alcohol and everything that happened with Mackenzie running through my system. I need to sober up. I need a clear head before I deal with whatever shitshow is happening in Vincent’s life now.
Tension fills the air when I step into the sterile hospital room beside Marcus, my gaze narrowing on Vincent who is currently in bed, hooked up to a machine. The side of his face is bruised and scraped. His nose is obviously broken, and his leg is propped in a sling, wrapped in a cast. He looks a fucking mess with an arm that is casted. Save for the bruising and the cuts all over his face, I’m guessing whatever happened could’ve been much worse.
Averting my gaze, I glance around the rest of the hospital room. Of course, it’s a luxury room, equipped with chaises instead of the normal hard chairs the visitors are forced to sit in. The only other person in the room is Trent. Zach is nowhere to be found.
“What happened?” Marcus and I ask in unison, diverting our attention to Trent, to see if he has any news on Vincent’s condition.
He looks like shit. His clothes are wrinkled, as though he rolled out of bed when he got the news about Vincent, and didn’t bother looking in the mirror. I’m sure I don’t look any better. His hair is in disarray, and dark circles are under his eyes. Trent blows out a heavy sigh and glances toward the bed. Vincent is still out cold.
“I don’t know, man. We were supposed to meet up last night for drinks, but he never showed. I haven’t been able to get ahold of Zach. I got the call and came straight here.”
Marcus and I share a look. What the fuck happened?
I cross my arms over my chest, searching Trent’s gaze, trying to spot any possible lies. “Marcus tracked Vincent’s phone, and he was in Ferndale during the accident. You know anything about that?” My voice is cold and emotionless, the way I like to keep it, so no one can read what I’m thinking.
Trent’s brows tug down in confusion. “That can’t be right. We were supposed to meet at Kings for drinks. Why the hell would he be out there? He fucking hates it there.”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Marcus sighs.
“What the fuck is happening, Baz? For years, we haven’t heard a goddamn thing, and now, all of a sudden, we can’t stop hearing about that fucking shithole! I thought you took care of it?” Panics flares in his eyes because he knows he has the most to lose.
I grit my teeth at his accusation. After what happened last night with Mackenzie and everything else that seems to be falling apart around us, I snap. Clasping my hand around his throat, I