at the phone to switch it off. The name on the display makes me go still. Jude.
I shouldn’t take this. It’s only going to mire me further in this mess. I shake my head again in a defeated fashion and, palming the phone, I stand up.
“Keep talking,” I instruct. “I don’t want anyone leaving this room until a deal is ready.” Then I stride out of the room.
As soon as the door clicks behind me, I press Connect. “Jude?” I say hoarsely.
“Gabe.” His voice is tinny with a lot of background noise that sounds like cars and horns. “Gabe, are you okay to talk?”
“I am. I’m in a meeting, so it’ll have to be quick.” I hesitate before asking the only question in my head. “Is Dylan okay?” The long pause makes me go cold. “Jude?”
“There’s been an accident,” he says quickly.
Cold flushes down my body, leaving a trail of icy sweat. My heart hammers furiously, and for a second, my vision goes funny.
“Is he okay?” I manage to get out, my voice sounding like I’ve been gargling with knives.
He sighs and mutters something which sounds very much like, “I’m going to hell.”
“Jude,” I say frantically. “Is he okay?”
“No. He had an accident on the underground. They’re taking him to the Royal London Hospital.” He hesitates. “Gabe, I’ve got to go. Are you coming?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “Tell him… Tell him I’m on my way.”
“Okay.” There’s a hesitation. “Gabe, I’m so sorry.”
My blood freezes. “Sorry for what?”
“Never mind. Just don’t kill me when you get here.”
I end the call without even saying goodbye, every atom in my body pushing me to move quickly and get to Dylan. It’s why I break into a run once I’m out of the lifts, causing a slight commotion in the foyer of Harrison, Bernett, Farmer, and Foster.
The journey in the taxi seems interminable. All I can do is clutch my phone in my sweaty hand and wait for a call to tell me something I can’t bear to hear. I check the signal repeatedly and tap my fingers. Horrible scenarios run through my mind. Dylan bleeding or unconscious. Or worse. My mind falters, and I suck in a shaky breath. There are so many things that can hurt someone on the underground.
“You alright?” The taxi driver’s voice breaks into my increasingly desperate thoughts.
“Yes, why?”
“You look like you might be going to throw up.” He taps a sign which states, Any damage to this taxi will result in a fine of £500. He shakes his head. “I’ve just had the cab cleaned. You break it, you pay for it.” He shakes his head again and mutters about city types.
I stare at the back of his head. “It must be such a problem for you driving around all day with that immense amount of compassion running through you. How do you survive?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Just don’t throw up.”
“I’ll endeavour to choke on it,” I inform him. “Please don’t charge my cold dead body when we finally get to the hospital by nightfall. That’s presuming that you’re actually going to start driving properly rather than messing around and bumping up my bill.”
That shuts him up, thankfully, although I could have done without the bruises I’ll undoubtedly have from where he hurls the car around corners with unnecessary force.
When we get to the hospital, I thrust the money into his hand. “Keep the change,” I mutter. “Use it to fund a course at charm school.”
The door shutting cuts his reply off neatly. Aware of the car moving away, I stare up at the gloomy edifice of the hospital and rub my hand over my heart. It’s pounding hard, and I’m scared beyond anything I’ve ever felt before, which is really saying something considering some of the fucked-up times in my youth.
What if he’s hurt badly? I love him so much that the idea of him being in pain or worse is awful. I falter and think of that warm smile and the humour in his green eyes, his smell, and the sense of home and place that I’ve always found with him.
I straighten my spine. He’s going to be okay even if I have to use every penny of my money to make sure of it. I nod. I will make it so. I couldn’t have gone through so much in the past just to lose the one person who’s ever meant anything in my life.
It takes ages to find him in the monolith of the hospital,