Page 127 of Until Then

Via passesme a steaming cup of tea. “I can’t promise it’s any good, but I tried.”

Laughing, I hold the mug between my palms and relish its comforting warmth. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

Her phone rings, and a photo of her and Reid pops up. She sighs like she knows she should hit decline, but before she can, I grasp her arm and stop her.

“Cut lover boy some slack, Via-Mia. A whole day without you is probably a lifetime to a golden retriever.”

With a roll of her eyes, she slides her finger over the screen and answers. “Hey, Izzy is still—what?”

All color drains from her face, instantly putting me on guard. My heart squeezes as fear flashes in her eyes.

“We’ll be right there,” she says, pulling the phone from herear. When she focuses on me, the look on her face—the mixture of sadness, worry, and fear—has my stomach rolling.

Standing on shaky legs, I grab her arm. “What is it? What happened?”

“Derrick’s in the hospital.”

“What?” My heart stops, and tears instantly fall. “What do you mean he’s in the hospital?”

I shouldn’t have left him.

Dammit, I thought I was doing the right thing, giving him some space, but oh God, I shouldn’t have left him. This is my fault.

“He may have had a heart attack. They’re running tests now. Reid and Layla are there with him.”

“Take me. You have to take me,” I beg my sister.

I’m still in my pajamas—ratty sweatpants and a sweatshirt that hangs halfway down my thighs, but I don’t care. I need to get to Derrick.

Via throws on a sweatshirt and grabs her keys and purse. “Let’s go. Come on.”

“Fuck, I’m parked behind you,” I curse when we step outside.

Hands fluttering, I turn in a circle, my brain losing all function.

Her arms provide a steadiness around me. “It’s okay. I’ll grab your keys. We’ll take your rental.”

She lingers for a second, still holding me, maybe to make sure I don’t topple over the second-story porch railing.

So I grasp the rough wooden rail and take a deep breath. “I’m fine,” I lie, needing her to hurry up.

With a nod, she ducks back inside, and when she returns with my purse, she locks up her apartment, then turns but doesn’t head for the stairs. “Izzy?”

“What?” I practically cry, flapping my arms. “We need to go!”

“You’re not wearing shoes.”

I look down at my socked feet, and the tears come faster. “Fuck.”

Quickly, she unlocks the door, and I storm inside. Thankfully, my shoes are beside the door. I shove my feet in quickly, then turn my ass back around and head straight down the stairs.

The drive to the hospital is a silent one, the only sounds my occasional sniffles.

Via parks the car near the emergency entrance and trails me inside. Once we’re through the sliding doors, she scrolls through the messages Reid has sent.

“Reid says they’ll be out in a minute, and you can go back.”

I nod woodenly, overcome with grief and disbelief. I stood in this very spot not even forty-eight hours ago. I don’t think I’ve ever hated a single place as much as I hate this one. The floors are too white. Too shiny. The chairs are uncomfortable and stick to my legs. And the TV in the corner is obnoxious.

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