I cringe. “No. I’m not sure I can yet.”
He turns and opens a cabinet and pulls out a bowl. “Well, you should at least try.” He jerks his head toward the living room. “Go sit down, I’ll heat this up and bring it to you.”
I hesitate for only a moment before doing as he asks. Jack genuinely has some of the best friends.
I left my phone on the nightstand, but don’t have the energy to climb the stairs again to grab it. “Hey,” I yell to the kitchen. “Could you text Jack to check on things? I left my phone upstairs.”
His face appears around the corner and he has a bowl of soup in one hand and his phone in the other. His eyes are on the screen, already busy typing up a text as he brings me the soup.
“On it. He was actually just texting me to check on you. I told him I’m pretty sure you have ebola and I’m not bothering to take you to the ER, just tossing you in the basement to decompose with the other skeletons down there. He said that was cool, just squeeze you into a corner since it's cramped.”
I roll my eyes, taking the bowl from him. “You’re ridiculous.” He just smirks, pocketing his phone. He looks more tired than usual and seems less himself. His playfulness seems more forced.
“Everything okay?” I ask, sipping the soup from the spoon. It’s hot as fuck but I can tell it’s just what my stomach needs. If I can keep it down.
He crosses one arm over his chest and scrubs a hand over the scruff on his face. “Yeah. Just tired.”
A wave of dizziness hits me out of nowhere and I shake my head to try and refocus my vision. The outline of him is blurry. I’ve never passed out before, but it feels like that might be what’s about to happen. I open my mouth to speak, and something comes out, but it’s not exactly the words my brain is trying to piece together.
“I’ve been up for literaldays.” He takes a step closer to me and takes the bowl and spoon from my hand, placing it on the end table. “Watching these fucking cameras I lied about not having access to, waiting for you to pull out the wine I sent withEzra. Ireallywanted the blame for that to be placed on Kruz since it seemed like she was the one who left it here. It would have beensomuch easier for me to take what I needed from your cooling corpse, but here we are.” He’s so nonchalant, but his words are only slightly registering in my brain becausewhat the fuck?
He shoves his hands in his pockets and my head tips back against the couch cushion. I’ve lost all control of my movements and panic swirls inside me as everything goes dark.
“Just my luck that you’d take one diluted sip of it and puke your guts out immediately after.”
29
HE’S A DIPSHIT
JACK
The driveto the hospital took longer than it should have—closer to four hours, not the three I’d expected. Every minute felt stretched thin by worry. The text that came in this morning from the hospital about Anna’s overdose played over and over in my head like a broken record. I wasn’t even sure what I’d find when I got here, but I had to come.
Leaving Sienna with Mom was a relief, but it didn’t make it easier to leave Quinn behind, especially since she’s still sick.
I want to call and check on her one last time before I head inside, but when I do it goes straight to voicemail.
It’s been a few hours since I talked with her, and I have assumed she’s been sleeping off her sickness. I suppose now she’s let her phone die, but that doesn’t stop the anxiety that spikes at not being able to hear her voice with everything else that’s been going on.
Now that I’m not driving, I pull up the house cameras just to have a peek, like some lovesick stalker.
My system is down, and panic swirls in my gut.
I text Stu to ask if maybe he could go over and check on her, but after a few minutes, I realize he’s leaving me on read. He’s sofucking unreliable at times and probably ignoring me to just get out of making the trip over.
I dial Ezra, which I should have done in the first place, and he answers after the first ring.
“Jack. What’s up?” He sounds like he’s saying the words around a mouthful of food.
“Hey, are you busy?” I ask.
He must sense the anxiety in my tone. “Is it Anna?”
“No. Well. I’m not sure, honestly, but that’s not why I am calling.” I explain the situation with Quinn and ask if he can just pop in really fast to check on her. I had food delivered earlier, but I also ask him to take some ginger ale or something just in case she’s sick of drinking Gatorade.
If she’s been able to keep anything down at all.
I eye the front of the hospital, regretting leaving her alone now, even for my sister. Maybe it would have been the rude wake up call she needed if I refused to come to her.
