Page 158 of Tech Bros

“They said he’s in critical condition. That’s bad, right? But, I mean—what the fuck? He’s like—everybody likes him. He’s Jake. He’s…”

I rub his arm and say, “Get dressed. Where he is?”

“Fairfield. NorthBay Medical.”

“That’s kinda far. Should you really go by yourself?” I don’t know, which is why I’m asking. I’m not used to seeing Isaac this disorganized, and it’s making me tense.

“I can’t call his parents until I know more.”

Evan, I think instantly. He needs Evan.

“Give me a second, okay? I’m gonna get Evan.”

“Don’t wake him—I mean…” He sort of half groans, half sighs. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Hurrying down the hall to Evan’s room, I enter without knocking. “Evan,” I call out before flipping on the overhead light.

I walk toward the mess of blankets on the bed, not wanting to irritate him, but needing him up. I grab for the comforter and pull it gently. It gives beneath my hand, revealing an empty bed. I scowl, looking for the dog.

My mouth goes dry when I realize neither of them are here.

Turning in a circle, I face his closet. It’s open. It’s not empty, but it’s far from full. With a slow-growing awareness, I enter the bathroom, noting the lack of a toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash, and razor. The note said he’d be home later, didn’t it? So why does it look like he left town again?

Isaac appears in the mirror behind me. I glance at his reflection, and he meets my eyes with sudden confusion. “He’s not here?”

I shake my head. I don’t need to check the living room.

Isaac runs a frantic hand through his tousled hair. His inhalation is shaky and loud. “I have to get to my brother.

“Let me take you,” I say.

He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the bathroom. “We’ll call him, okay? ”

I nod, feeling like a robot as I go through the motions of putting on my shoes and collecting my things—phone, wallet, watch, keys. Isaac passes his car key to me as we walk down the stairs. Once we’re in the car, his phone connects to bluetooth, and he plugs in the address of the hospital. I focus on the pleasant AI generated male voice as it guides me in the correct direction.

I try not to think of anything else. Get Isaac to Jake. It’s the only thing I can control.

Isaac’s hand is clamped on my thigh, like he needs something to hang onto. I wish I could do the same, but I’m a ten and two driver. Both hands on the wheel at all times.

My stomach is sick, and stress has me pulled taut—a combination of his emotions and my own. We don’t speak on the drive, and I go as fast as the car and what little traffic there is will let me.

The first thoughtI have as we enter the hospital through the emergency room is that I should have waited in the car.

The lights are too bright. The noises are random and unfamiliar. Isaac is rushing from person to person, talking toofast until he’s told how to locate the ICU. The elevator ride up is my only reprieve. It’s just the two of us for a few moments, and the lighting is dimmer. I force myself to breathe and center myself in the silence, hoping the floor we wind up on is less chaotic and bright than the emergency department.

Luckily, it is. The doors open into a quiet waiting room, but Isaac moves through it on a mission, taking note of the signs indicating room numbers. He pushes through a door, but I stop, letting go of his hand.

He turns to me with a look of pure stress mixed with concern. “Are you all right?”

“You go ahead.” I realize in an instant that Evan is who should be here—not me. Evan wouldn’t need to find a bathroom right now to escape and try to adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings. Evan wouldn’t have let go of Isaac’s hand, forcing him to find his brother on his own. Evan would probably be doing all the talking so Isaac wouldn’t have to. I feel like the weak link, broken by the last five minutes.

“Okay,” Isaac says softly. “Don’t go where I can’t find you.”

I swallow hard, ashamed of my limitations and angry. It’s not fair that I’m like this. It’s not fair to Isaac, either. I’m not the one dealing with a life or death situation. I should be able to be the strong one.

It’s so stupid that something as fundamental as lighting has me so fucking unwound.