Page 109

I ignore it and bury my face in the cool side of the pillow, willing myself back to sleep. But the caller is determined. Harsh vibrations rattle against the bedside table, each buzz growing louder and louder.
With a flail of my arm, I blindly search for the furious noise.
I find it, silence the ringing, and fall into the plush pillows.
The reprieve is short-lived and, groaning, I roll onto my side. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Disoriented, I grope for the device, squinting against the blurry brightness of the screen.
Jackson, I surmise, struggling to keep my eyes open. Who else but my obsessive boyfriend would demand my attention at such an ungodly hour?
I press the phone against my ear. “Jax,” I croak, my voice thick and scratchy.
“Honey, it’s Emily.”
In her tone, there’s sympathy, and it sends a jolt of adrenaline through my foggy mind, dispelling any remnants of sleep.
Grams.
No. The nurses would’ve called me.
Maybe they tried, and I rejected the call.
I blink several times to clear the haze, dread creeping up my spine. “Em? What’s wrong?”
Weak sunlight filters through the windows, and I realize it’s light out. I must have slept longer than I thought. What time is it in LA?
“God, you don’t know.” A note of panic laces her words.
My heart bursts into a hard pounding. My body trembles with fear, and I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “Know what? Is it Grams?”
The door creaks open. Ricky enters wearing a grim expression, and his gaze shifts from mine. He sits on the edge of the bed and slumps forward, burying his face in his hands.
“What’s going on?” I cry, my voice cracking. “Someone tell me.”
Emily releases a defeated sigh. “Sweetheart, check your phone.”
With shaky hands, I pull my phone away from my ear and skim through the onslaught of messages. I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing.
There are texts from Jackson, Felicity, Ethan, and unknown numbers, but what catches my attention are the hundreds of IG notifications.
My finger touches the icon, the pictures flood the screen, and my heart stops dead.
The air ceases in my lungs, and I clutch my chest.
From the phone, I faintly register Emily’s voice.
I stare into midnight-blue eyes.
He reaches for me. “Aurora.Aurora. Breathe.”
No. I shake my head. I don’t want to.
The world spins. I fall into Ricky, and everything tumbles into darkness.
FORTY-ONE
JACKSON