Because when he was struggling, and I was trying so hard to keep him above the water . . . he was very afraid.
The memory of Vanni saying those words made her flinch in agony. He’d blamed Cristina all these years for the loss of his other half, but he blamed himself perhaps even more elementally. His unrelenting anger at Cristina had been the surface, obvious emotion, a shadowy reflection of the deep fury he had for himself for not being able to save Adrian.
Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t seem to control them for the past few days and nights. They sprung up at the most inopportune moments.
The light turned green. She’d pull into the parking lot just past the intersection and wait until her tears had passed.
She didn’t know what hit her. One second, she’d been turning right, and the next she was jarred forcefully. She heard a loud bang, and everything went black.
Chapter Forty-one
Vanni jogged up the stairs to Emma’s apartment and looked over the ledge on the second floor of the stairwell, getting a bird’s eye view of the parking lot. He grimaced, not seeing her car. Had she already left for work? He rethought his strategy for finding her. He’d talk to Amanda first. This time, he was better prepared to talk to her than he had been several days ago, when he’d still been be sideswiped by Emma’s refusal to see him again.
This time, he knew what Amanda needed to hear in order to become his ally in getting Emma to talk to him, and Vanni was ready to say it.
He approached Emma’s apartment and drew back his fist in order to knock. The door flew back before he’d ever made contact. Amanda stared at him, shock plastered all over her pale face.
“Oh my God, Vanni. How did you know?”
Alarm roared into his awareness, making his flesh tingle. He edited himself at the last second from saying How did I know what?
“Where?” he demanded tautly instead, his buzzing, shocked brain tightening its focus on Amanda’s leggings and T-shirt, haphazard bun, and clutched purse. She was clearly running out the door in crisis mode.
“North Shore Hospital. She’s in the emergency room.” He stepped back when she walked out and slammed the door. “Colin is coming to get me—”
“Emma?”
Vanni realized he’d yelled and that he was clutching Amanda’s arm. He loosened his grip with effort.
“Emma?” he repeated tautly, a cascade of chills going through him. Oh no. Please don’t let this be happening.
“Yes. The hospital just called. She was in a car accident. They’ve brought her there.” Vanni’s grip loosened when Amanda gave a desperate lurch. She started to jog toward the stairs.
Oh, Jesus. He’d dared to care about her. He’d fallen in love with her. Was this the inevitable result?
“Amanda,” he shouted sharply. “What did the hospital say?”
She turned, still jogging “I don’t know anything, Vanni. I have to go!”
* * *
The examining doctor said good-bye to Emma and pulled the curtain closed. She was in some kind of makeshift examining room in the emergency room, a square ten-by-ten-foot space set off by curtains, not walls. She could hear the doctor talking to Colin and Emma on the other side of the curtain, telling them what she’d already told Emma.
“She’s fine, but we’d like to keep her overnight for observation . . . just to make sure there’s no concussion. There isn’t any observable wound to the head. The airbag deployed, but she lost consciousness for nearly ten minutes following the accident. Her vitals are all good, but we’d like to watch her for the next twenty-four hours for any signs that there might have been a blunt head trauma.”
“Do you suspect there’s a brain injury?” Amanda asked anxiously.
“No, the stay over night is just a precaution, I assure you. Your sister is going to be fine.”
“Can I see her?” Amanda asked.
“Of course. We’re running a little short-staffed today. She might not be moved to a room for an hour or so.”
Ever since Emma had regained consciousness, she’d experienced a strange sort of desire for action, an inexplicable restlessness. In fact, when she’d first come to in the ambulance, the first thing she did was swing her legs off the stretcher and start to get up.
“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” the stunned EMT had asked her, urging her to lie down again.
Emma hadn’t been able to reply logically. She only experienced a deep, profound need to be somewhere. That sense of an inner push—or an outer pull—continued. She’d almost screamed in frustration when the doctor told her a few minutes ago they’d be keeping her overnight for observation. Her silent reminders to herself that she was being ridiculous, that she had nowhere to go with such a sense of urgency, were only minimally calming to her.