“She wasn’t drinking,” Natalia chimes in, twisting her hands together. “I gave her a cup of that punch, but she set it on the table without taking a sip.”
“And she doesn’t fucking do drugs,” I add pointedly.
“Okay, let’s get her to the hospital.”
Briar’s loaded up onto the stretcher and carried downstairs. My stomach rolls, and for a second, I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t help but draw parallels to the way I lost my mom. The unresponsiveness, the blood. My phone rings, but I don’t even look at it before hitting the fuck you button.
She’s fine. She has to be.
Once outside, they ask who’s riding with her to the hospital, and both Dash and I step forward.
“Only one,” the medic snaps, looking between the two of us impatiently. “And figure it out soon or neither one of you is going.” He turns his attention to lifting Briar into the ambulance, and even though I want nothing more than to fight for my place next to her, I know I need to let this one go.
“The only way you’re riding in the ambulance with her is if you’re in a goddamn body bag,” Dash says in a low, threatening voice.
Shaking my head, I walk off wordlessly toward my truck. Except I’m blocked in by two other cars.
Fuck!
I’m seriously debating on hot-wiring a car—it’s what I fucking do best, after all—when Natalia rolls up and motions for me to jump in.
“Need a ride?”
Tears are streaming down her face, but she tries to play it off with a shaky, unconvincing smile. Most of the time, Natalia is a pain in my ass. She’s loud and opinionated, and I wish she came with a mute button. I tolerate her at best. But right now, we are the same. Two people who are trying to keep their shit together while the most important person in their lives is sitting in an ambulance.
I climb into her flashy little sports car that costs more than most people’s homes. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the gear stick, and she stalls out. She smacks the steering wheel, and a frustrated growl leaves her mouth. I can tell she’s losing it. Really fucking losing it. We don’t have time to waste, so I place her hand on the shifter and cover it with my own. Her eyes shoot up to mine.
“Get it together. Briar needs us.”
“Okay. Okay,” she says, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself.
“Breathe.”
She does, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
“Now, let’s fucking go.”
She turns the key and pushes in the clutch, and this time, she doesn’t stall. She accelerates, weaving in and out of traffic to catch up to the blue and red flashing lights, and stays on their tail all the way to the hospital. She follows it all the way up to the emergency entrance and lets me jump out before going to park the car.
I run toward the ambulance as they unload the stretcher that carries my fucking heart. The first thing I notice is that Dash is talking to her, reassuring her that everything is okay.
She’s awake. She’s fucking awake.
“Briar!” I yell as I get closer, and her panicked eyes follow the sound.
“Asher? What happened? Asher, please.” She sounds desperate and confused, and I tell myself not to panic that she doesn’t remember. That it’s common with head injuries. Right?
“You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
They wheel her into the hospital. The bright fluorescent lights and bustling of the busy ER are a stark contrast from the quiet night sky.
“You both need to wait out here,” one of the paramedics says over his shoulder. “Someone will be out to update you soon.”
“Asher, please don’t leave me,” Briar says, right before they go through the double doors that we aren’t allowed to pass.
“I’ll be here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” I shout after her.
And