Page 35 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

Abby got up to get dressed, too.

“He’s stable,” she said as we rushed out to the car. “Cami’s in pretty bad shape. I guess they were arguing, and Cami was driving and not paying attention. He carried her to the closest house. That’s all he said before he passed out in the ambulance. He hasn’t been awake since.”

We slammed our doors and looked at each other. Abby must’ve seen the panic on my face, because she put her hand on my knee. “They’re going be okay.”

I backed out and then rushed out of the parking lot, turning the wheel and taking the corner a little fast, instinctively reaching over to make sure Abby’s seat belt was fastened tight.

“Baby, be careful. You’ve been drinking. Don’t drive too fast in the rain.”

My hands shook as I twisted the steering wheel under my grip and lifted my foot off the gas. “Goddammit, Trent.”

The hospital’s emergency room doors swept open with a rush of air, and I squeezed Abby’s hand, pulling her through the threshold.

Exhausted mothers holding sick babies were sitting alongside frail old men, and a group of skateboarders were sitting around a friend who was holding his wrist against his chest. Moaning, whimpering, babies crying, cell phones ringing, kids playing on their tablets, and iPhones with the volume way too high layered with announcements over the PA system. It made me want to bail, but I had to find my family.

Beyond the borders of the waiting room, behind secured, double doors each with small, rectangular windows, came a muffled ruckus—a man swearing and yelling.

“Trent,” I said under my breath.

I approached the receptionist’s desk, but she didn’t even look up. “Hi,” I said, glancing down at the nameplate, “Gladys. I’m looking for Trenton Maddox.”

“Are you family?” Gladys asked with her nasally voice, unimpressed with my obvious urgency.

Twin beaded chains hung from her oval glasses. Her thin lips pursed and wrinkled between responses. She’d probably worked around ten years more than what her empathy could survive and didn’t give two fucks that my brother was hurt or that my dad was beyond those doors where I couldn’t get to him, worried.

“He’s my brother,” I said. “He was in an accident.”

“Oh, the drunk driver,” Gladys said.

It took everything in me to keep my voice calm. “No. He was hit by a drunk driver.”

“I know,” Gladys said with a sigh. “He refuses to go to his own exam room.”

“Can I see him? I can convince him to go where he needs to be.”

She stared at her computer, unaffected. “I’ll let them know you’re here. Have a seat.”

I balled my hands into fists, but before I could lose my shit, I turned on my heels and walked with Abby to a row of chairs not yet filled with the sick or injured. I sat, not realizing that my knee was furiously bobbing until I saw a kid staring at my leg. I propped my elbow on the armrest, and then pinched the bridge of my nose.

Abby was rubbing my back, but the wait was agony.

Trenton had already been in an accident with someone he cared about. Even though he’d survived, I thought losing Kenzie would kill him. If he survived this one, too, and Cami didn’t ... I wasn’t sure he could come back from that.

“He’s going to be okay, babe. I have a good feeling,” Abby said. “Trav,” she said, patting my knee. “Your dad …”

“Travis?” Dad was standing in the doorway, the double doors wide open.

I jumped up and hurried across the room, pulling him in for a hug. “How is he? How’s Cami?”

“Trenton’s awake. He passed out for a bit, but he’ll okay. He’ll be hobblin’ around for a while. Broke his arm in two places. His ankle’s swollen, but the X-Rays came back okay. I think he rolled it when he was running.”

“How are you holding up?” Abby asked, hugging Dad.

“Oh, you know. It’s past my bedtime but my boy’s hurt. Got up here as quick as I could.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Abby said, squeezing him again.

“Trent’s on back there. I told him to wait while I came and got ya. That receptionist isn’t the most helpful.” He hooked his arm around mine, and then I felt him lean on me.