I don’t await her to answer. I throw the cellphone in my purse, pull on my sneakers, seize my jacket and I’m out of right here like a shot.

My fingers really feel numb as I stab the decision button for the elevator. I’m in shock, I feel hazily. This could’t be. Stabbed. Jet was stabbed.

Shit.

I can’t assume till I’m seated in my automobile and driving towards the bar Brylee known as me from. Then, as I strategy, I keep in mind Joel and fish out my cellphone to name him.

He doesn’t reply, so I shoot him a textual content whereas ready on the visitors lights, my finger shaking as I kind the phrases.

‘Jet was stabbed. Riley’s Bar. Name me.’

Please, name me. The place are you?

Joel’s the one in management, the one in cost, the reliable one, the robust one. I would like him. Hell, Jet wants him.

Tears sting my eyes as I lastly attain my vacation spot and park the automobile. I’m not indignant at Jet anymore. I’m scared, so scared it takes me two tries to change off the engine.

God, how did it come to this? Who stabbed him? Why? And why was Jet right here, in a brawl, as an alternative of house with me and Joel?

Drawing in a deep breath, I step out and head towards the bar. Brylee intercepts me on the best way, trying pale, her eyes too vast.

“They took him away in an ambulance simply now,” she whispers, linking her arm with mine. “They caught his attacker, too, the police are taking him in now.”

“I must see Jet.” I’m panicking, attempting to free myself of her maintain, attempting to show again round.

“I’ll take you to the hospital. Come on.”

I let her haul me again to my automobile, let her get behind the wheel and drive me, too shaky to refuse her assist.

And Joel nonetheless hasn’t known as me again.

***

The ER is fairly quiet. Numerous persons are seated within the ready space. Brylee leaves me to ask about Jet, and I’m left standing there, misplaced

.

That is incorrect. Jet shouldn’t be right here. Jet shouldn’t be harm.

And I ought to be the one asking about him.

Turning, I search for her, however she’s vanished someplace. That is surreal. Panic rises in my chest, clogging my throat. I’m two seconds from screaming.

A girl I don’t know pats my arm. “Have a seat,” she says. “Be affected person.”

I jerk again, shaking my head, and pull out my cellphone once more. Nothing. No texts, no missed calls.

Jesus, Joel. The place are you?

And the place has Brylee gone, for that matter? The place is everybody? The partitions are closing in on me. The air is stale. Not sufficient oxygen.

I flip blindly round, this time looking for the exit, when robust arms come round me and a well-known male scent envelops me.

“Sweet.” Joel is rocking me in his arms. “The place is he? Is he okay?”

Joel is right here. The tears all of a sudden overflow, seep into my lashes, slip down my cheeks. “I don’t know. Brylee went to ask. I couldn’t discover you. You didn’t name again.”

“I used to be an asshole, and an fool.” He pulls again and wipes my tears along with his palms, then cups my cheeks. “The hospital known as me.”

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