Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(98)

 

“Wait! Dad, wait! What hospital?!”

 

“Cedars-Sinai. I have to go, sweetie. I’ll call you back.” And then he’s gone.

 

I stare at my phone for the longest time. It’s only Mick’s hand on my arm that brings me back to the real world. My ears are ringing with white noise. It makes it hard to hear anything else.

 

“What is it?” he asks. He looks ready to cry with me.

 

“My mom. Jersey. They’re in the hospital.” My throat hurts like I just swallowed broken glass. I can’t say anymore.

 

Mick swerves off the highway, taking a section of the road going to the right.

 

“What are you doing, man?!” Colin shouts. “She needs to get home!”

 

“I know that! A plane will be quicker.”

 

I look at Mick, lost and confused. “A plane?”

 

“Yeah.” He pats me on the leg and then puts both hands on the wheel. Looking in the rearview mirror, he talks to his brother. “Colin, call Virgin America or Alaska airlines. Get us two tickets to L.A. out of San Jose.”

 

I sit in the passenger seat like a statue, too stunned to move. Too stunned to think. All I can picture are my mom and Jersey, hooked up to machines, on their way to dying while I’m on my way to the airport. Why am I going to the airport?

 

I’m only half conscious of getting to the terminal and accompanying Mick to the ticket counter and then to the plane. I guess Colin and Alissa have taken the car somewhere because they’re not with us, but I can’t worry about them. I’m too afraid that I’m never going to see my brother or my mother again.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

 

 

 

 

 

THE MUFFLED CLICKS OF MY heels on the hospital hallway floor keep time with my rapidly beating heart. I can see the room where my brother is being kept, up ahead. I’m going to see him first because he’s in worse shape than my mom and because I know he’ll be scared. We’re in the burn ward, dressed in gowns, masks, gloves and shoe covers. I feel like I have cotton stuck in my ears the way all the sharp edges have been taken off the sounds in this place. Mick is beside me, holding my hand, just like he has been since we buckled our seatbelts on the airplane.

 

I reach the doorway and stop, dropping Mick’s hand and taking a deep breath. I can’t let Jersey see me freaking out.

 

“It’s going to be fine, babe. Just relax.” Mick is rubbing my arm. “Want me to come in or stay out?”

 

“Stay here first. I’ll come get you in a minute.” I can’t breathe. I’m starting to hyperventilate. The hallway is spinning.

 

“Babe. Get a grip.” Mick is shaking me by the upper arms. “Jersey is going to be upset if he sees you upset. Calm down.”

 

I nod. He’s right. He’s completely and totally right. I grab him in a neck-strangling hug before going in. “Thank you,” I say, letting the tears fall for a few seconds. “Thank you for getting me here so fast.”

 

“Go,” he says, detaching me from his neck. “Come get me later if you want. I’ll be right here.”

 

I take a deep breath and school my features to be normal. As normal as they can be, all things considered. It’s not every day that your little brother lights your house on fire and nearly burns himself to death.

 

I walk inside and try not to let my shock and horror show in my expression. Jersey’s neck and left arm are completely swathed in thick bandages. Some of them look yellow and I hate to think they started out white, but I’m pretty sure they did. His eyes are closed and his face looks sunburned.

 

“Jersey?” I say, moving closer to the bed.

 

One of his eyes flutters open followed by the other soon after. “Sister?” His voice sounds very rough. The beeping of machines in the background makes the whole thing that much more horrible.

 

“Hi, baby bro. What’s up? What are you doing in here?” I reach the side of his bed and move the covers, searching for his other hand, the one that’s not wrapped in bandages. I find it, but am dismayed when I see the nasty IV needle sticking out of the back of it. I hold onto his pinkie finger because it’s the only one without tape on it.

 

“I got on fire,” he says.

 

I have to concentrate really hard not to bawl at that simple statement.

 

“That’s what daddy told me. He told me you got on fire at the house.”

 

“Yeah.” Jersey just nods his head. A tear plops out of each eye and runs down his cheeks.

 

“Well, I’m just glad that you’re okay, turd basket, because if you weren’t okay, I was going to have to kick some serious butt somewhere, I can tell you that.”