Page 15 of Crash

“The hospital did. I’m her in-case-of-emergency contact.”

“Ryker is her emergency contact.” The words came out automatically, but even as I said them, doubt crept in.

His head tilted back. “You know Ryker?”

A protective surge flooded my system, followed by something darker, something that felt dangerously like loss. When had I let myself drift so far from her life that I didn’t even know this basic fact?

“I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”

Every cell in my body perked up, ready to remove him if necessary. I might have lost the ICU battle—for now—but I would die before I let anyone who might cause her stress nearher. Last I checked, ex-boyfriends had the wordexin front of them for a reason.

“Heislisted as her emergency contact,” the nurse confirmed quietly.

The words twisted in my ribs like barbed wire. This stranger had replaced Ryker as her most trusted person? When had that happened? How had I not known? I’d convinced myself keeping my distance was right, was what she needed. Now I realized I’d let her slip away entirely.

“Are you her doctor?” Ex-Boyfriend asked.

“I am.”And unlike you, I’m not going anywhere.

“They said she fainted? Hit her head. Is she okay?”

Like hell I was sharing her personal information with this guy.

“Does this have to do with how sick she’s been?” he asked.

The question stopped me cold, a jolt of adrenaline rushing blood to my ears until I could hear nothing but his voice.

“Sick?” I repeated.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” The words felt barbed, tearing at my throat.

“Tessa’s been sick. Really sick. For a year.”

10

TESSA

“I’m going to murder you.” I glared at my best friend, Scarlett, as she entered my private hospital room.

She looked too beautiful to be among the sick and injured, with her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a figure most women would go into debt for a chance to achieve, and green eyes that sparkled, unfazed by my dark sense of sarcasm. If anything, it made her smirk. Confirmation I was alive and well, I guess.

“I’m going to murder you, then bring you back to life, just so I can kill you again.”

Our friendship operated on its own frequency where casual death threats translated toI love you, but you just seriously angered me, and we both knew the difference.

Scarlett plopped down in the corner chair with an eye roll, the leather squeaking beneath her. The sun streamed through the windows, casting everything in that strange hospital glow that made even the pristine white walls look institutional. The room itself was nice—nicer than some hotel rooms I’d seen—with its gleaming floors and state-of-the-art equipment, softened by abstract paintings in soothing blues and greens. But it was still a hospital room.

“Oh, I’m sorry. What’s the proper protocol when your bestie’s eyes roll back into her head like she’s having an exorcism and she goes all rag doll on the sidewalk?”

“Let me have a mini coma,” I reasoned, trying to ignore how the heart monitor’s sticky pads pulled at my skin with every breath. “Always let me have a mini coma.”

“Why are you being so weird?” Scarlett motioned around the room with a twirl of her finger, her silver bangles catching the light. “Obviously, doctors were worried enough to admit you, so it seems to me the words you should be hunting for arethankandyou.”

I adjusted the scratchy hem of the stupid hospital gown, the material crinkling like paper.

“Sorry,” I said. “Thank you. I just …”