The soundboard lit up again.
Oak’s Evil Brother Calling.
My heart dropped into my stomach. Marcus never called me. And he never called twice in a row. Not me. Not ever.
The phone rang a third time.
Tampa General Hospital.
My hand hovered over the phone.
The ringing stopped.
I picked it up and dialed Marcus back.
“What?” I rasped, my throat suddenly dry.
Marcus’s voice was urgent, clipped as always.
“Jordin, it’s Oak,” he said. “He’s been in an accident. It’s bad.”
My breath caught.
“What?” I whispered.
“You’re still his wife. You’re on his living will,” he said. “You have to make the decisions.”
I felt like the air had been knocked out of me.
“I—I’m on my way,” I choked out before hanging up.
The second the call ended, it hit me—I had no idea how I was going to get to Tampa.
Driving would take too long, and it was the middle of the night. I probably couldn’t even get a flight.
My mind was spinning. My chest was tight.
“How the fuck am I supposed to get to Tampa?!” I shouted, gripping my phone so hard my fingers ached.
“I got you,” Ciarán said immediately, already grabbing his keys. His voice was steady. Controlled.
“I got a friend with a private jet.”
I barely registered his words. I was too busy trying to breathe. Trying to think.
Then he was pulling me up, guiding me toward the door, his phone already to his ear.
“Yeah,” he said when someone answered. “I need a favor.”
I couldn’t focus.
Couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.
What in the fuck was I going to do if Oak died?
He had been in my life so long…
What if I didn’t know how to live without him?
