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29

HE’S A DIPSHIT

JACK

The drive to the hospital took longer than it should have—closer to four hours, not the three I’d expected. Every minute felt stretched thin by worry. The text that came in this morning from the hospital about Anna’s overdose played over and over in my head like a broken record. I wasn’t even sure what I’d find when I got here, but I had to come.

Leaving Sienna with Mom was a relief, but it didn’t make it easier to leave Quinn behind, especially since she’s still sick.

I want to call and check on her one last time before I head inside, but when I do it goes straight to voicemail.

It’s been a few hours since I talked with her, and I have assumed she’s been sleeping off her sickness. I suppose now she’s let her phone die, but that doesn’t stop the anxiety that spikes at not being able to hear her voice with everything else that’s been going on.

Now that I’m not driving, I pull up the house cameras just to have a peek, like some lovesick stalker.

My system is down, and panic swirls in my gut.

I text Stu to ask if maybe he could go over and check on her, but after a few minutes, I realize he’s leaving me on read. He’s so fucking unreliable at times and probably ignoring me to just get out of making the trip over.

I dial Ezra, which I should have done in the first place, and he answers after the first ring.

“Jack. What’s up?” He sounds like he’s saying the words around a mouthful of food.

“Hey, are you busy?” I ask.

He must sense the anxiety in my tone. “Is it Anna?”

“No. Well. I’m not sure, honestly, but that’s not why I am calling.” I explain the situation with Quinn and ask if he can just pop in really fast to check on her. I had food delivered earlier, but I also ask him to take some ginger ale or something just in case she’s sick of drinking Gatorade.

If she’s been able to keep anything down at all.

I eye the front of the hospital, regretting leaving her alone now, even for my sister. Maybe it would have been the rude wake up call she needed if I refused to come to her.

I realize I may be overreacting, but Ezra doesn’t seem to mind. I guess with everything else that’s been going on, my excessive worry is not completely unfounded.

“Oh, yeah. Sure thing,” he says, then chugs his drink in my ear.

“I appreciate you. I texted Stu first but he totally blew me off.”

“He’s a dipshit,” he replies. I can hear him rustling around. “I’ll go on over now and call you as soon as I’m with her, but I’m sure everything is fine. Don’t stress.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief, hang up the phone, and drag myself out of the car.

Walking through the sliding doors of the hospital, my heart races. The front desk feels like a barrier between me and the answers I need. I step up to it, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Hi, I’m looking for my sister, Anna Hollis—she was brought in this morning after an overdose.”

The receptionist, a woman in her forties, gives me a brief, polite smile before typing on her keyboard. She frowns slightly as she scans the screen, then looks up at me. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have anyone by that name admitted here.”

I blink, sure I misheard her. “No, there must be a mistake. I got a text from this hospital saying she overdosed and was brought in earlier today.”

Her expression softens, but the confusion in her eyes remains. “I understand, but she’s not in our system. Let me check again.”

I stand there, heart pounding, as she taps a few more keys, scrolling through something I can’t see. The moments stretch on painfully until she shakes her head. “I’m really sorry, but there’s no record of anyone by that name being treated or admitted here today.”

I feel like I’ve been hit in the chest. The ground feels unsteady beneath me as I struggle to comprehend what she’s saying. “So… she was never here?”

The receptionist gives me an apologetic look. “It seems that way. We don’t have any record of her.”

I’m at a loss. The text—it wasn’t a mistake. I know it came from the hospital. Did someone give me the wrong information? Was it some kind of cruel prank?

I step away from the desk, the receptionist's voice fading as she says something else I barely hear. I pull out my phone, checking the message again. The hospital’s number is right there. It’s real, but it doesn’t make sense.

I dial the number from the message. The line rings twice before a voice answers. “St. Anthony’s Hospital, how can I help you?”

“Hi, I got a text this morning saying my sister—Anna Hollis—overdosed and was brought in. I’m at the hospital now, but there’s no record of her being here.” My voice is tight, barely holding together. “I just needed to check the number the text came from.”

There’s a pause, followed by some typing. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any record of an Anna being admitted today. Are you sure it was this hospital?”

I clench my teeth, trying to stay calm. “Yes, I’m sure. The message came from this number.”

Another pause. “I’m really sorry, sir. I don’t know what happened, but there’s no information here about your sister. Not to mention that the hospital wouldn’t send a text about something like this.”

I hang up, the weight of confusion and frustration pressing down on me. She was never here. My stomach churns as I stand there in the middle of the hospital, feeling like an idiot. What the hell is going on?

I glance down at my phone, hoping for some kind of response from Quinn or Ezra, but there’s still nothing.