me tight in a hug, uttering things like “oh thank god” and “you’re okay.” Their hot tears prick against my neck, and it reminds me of how warm his blood was on my hands, and I gag. My mom leans back and places her hand on my forehead like she did when I was little, and I just want to go home.
“What were you guys doing out there? Where did you even get a car? I thought you were going to Frankie’s, and then the hospital calls!”
“He was turning around, Mom, I swear,” I cry. “We were coming home.”
“Jesus Christ, Jubilee. What were you thinking? And, Jubi, your arm! Your arm!”
“He wouldn’t wake up,” I choke out before dissolving into a fresh round of tears. The doctor stands in the corner, exasperated. “I was trying to help, Mom. I was trying to help! They won’t tell me anything.”
“Vera, go check on him,” Mom says, sounding exhausted. Vera gives my leg one last squeeze and stands up.
The doctor—Dr. Philman, her name tag says—interjects, “The patient that came in with her is getting the care he needs. Only immediate family can see him right now, like I’ve already told her.”
“He doesn’t have a family,” I sniffle. “He just has us.”
The doctor’s lips draw in a tight line. “I understand your concern for your friend, but I need to stabilize your arm and wrist before you injure it more.”
“I’ll go, honey,” Vera says. “Even if they don’t let me see him, I’ll be there.”
“Hurry,” I say, but when she pulls back the curtain again to step into the hallway, Ridley’s father is standing there, looking down at his phone.
“Mark?”
“Vera,” he sighs. “I don’t suppose you know where my son is, do you? My wife is very upset. Apparently, she got a call he was here.” He says it like it’s no big deal, like it’s a minor inconvenience, and if the doctor wasn’t holding my arm in place, I swear to god I would slap him.
“Your son?” Vera asks, and I can’t do this. Not now, when I just need to know he’s okay.
Ridley’s father glances up. “Don’t play dumb, Vera. Do you know what room he’s in?”
Vera and Mom turn back toward me, confusion covering their faces.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and then it feels like the walls are closing in on me. The doctor gives me some oxygen and puts something in my IV, and everything gets kind of heavy and warm.
Somewhere, far away, people are shouting.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Ridley
I BLINK GROGGILY under too-bright lights, feeling pain in places I didn’t know existed. Panic claws around my heart, sending its rhythm spiraling faster as I try to piece together where I am and how I got here. I turn my head, which, ouch, this is a headache like no other, and there’s Gray sitting in the chair beside my bed. She sets her phone down, patting my arm with a sad smile.
“Hey, Rid,” she says. “You’re in the hospital, but you’re okay.”
“Peak?” I rasp. It hurts to talk, but I have to know.
“Peak’s fine,” Gray says. “She already went home.”
“Fine?”
“Well, a couple broken bones, but nothing that can’t be fixed.” The relief mixes with whatever drugs they have me on, and I shut my eyes again, content to drift some more.
* * *
? ? ?
The next time I open my eyes, Gray’s in different clothes and drinking coffee. I shift in bed, wincing.
“Hey,” she says, scooting her chair closer and rubbing my leg. “Sleeping Beauty awakes.”
“Am I . . . ?” I trail off, not sure what I’m asking. Alive? Okay? Still a part of your family?
“You’re fine. Mostly. There are six staples keeping your brain from leaking out, and you have three cracked ribs, so nice work.” She takes another sip of her coffee. “We’re not even going to talk about what you did to my poor car. I just got that thing, Ridley.”
I reach up and touch my head, wincing when my