Page 93 of Exposed Ink

“Where is she?” she chokes out when I try to hold her so she won’t freak out. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Tears fill her lids, and I tighten my hold on her. The past twenty-four hours have been hard enough, and the last thing we need is Kinsley in the hospital as well.

“She’s okay. I wanted to call you, but I didn’t know your number, and I didn’t want to leave her yesterday. Her phone got smashed in the accident, and mine’s fucked. I’m so sorry I couldn’t reach you sooner.”

The first thing I’ll be doing when this is all over is getting a new phone, and then I’ll be writing down Kinsley’s number. Not being able to get ahold of her was fucking hell. I just kept thinking she thought I was blowing her off.

My parents were already at the hospital with Eric and Katie when we brought them in, and I asked my dad to go by my place to see if Kinsley was there, but she wasn’t. And when he went back last night to check again, he found her and Becky asleep in my bed. He asked if I wanted him to wake her, but since visiting hours were over, I didn’t want to stress her out when there was nothing she could do, so I told him to let her sleep and that I would tell her myself in the morning.

Thankfully, my parents have cell phones, so I’ve been able to use my mom’s phone to communicate with everyone.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kinsley cries. “I just need to know she’s okay. I need to see her.”

“We can go see her,” I tell her, standing and setting her on her feet. “But you need to be prepared. She broke her wrist in numerous places, and the glass caused several gashes that needed to be glued. When she hit the concrete?—”

“What do you mean, she hit the concrete?” She gasps, covering her mouth as tears slide down her cheeks.

“Her seat belt wasn’t on.”

“Why the fuck wasn’t her seat belt on?” she demands.

“It was bad luck,” I say, pulling her into my arms. She’s shaking like a leaf in the middle of a damn storm. “Her mom had a benign tumor pressing on her brain that no one knew about. It caused her vision to blur, and she crashed the car while Taylor was unbuckled, reaching in the back seat to grab her iPad so she could go over the list of things she wanted to do in the city. She flew out, landed on her wrist, breaking it, and cracked her head on the concrete. She suffered from a concussion and had to have surgery on her wrist to fix it.”

“Can I see her?” she asks, her eyes glassy and her face blotchy.

“Yeah, but if you want to wait until she’s home …”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I need to see her for myself. To know she’s okay.”

“Okay. We can go see her. They’ve put her and Jamie in the same room.”

“Is Jamie okay?” Kinsley asks.

“Yeah, the tumor wasn’t cancerous, but between her shoulder getting dislocated in the accident and needing to have emergency surgery to have the tumor removed, she’s going to need some time to recover.”

Kinsley nods in understanding. “When can Taylor come home?”

“They’re hoping tomorrow. Because of the concussion, they want to keep her another night to monitor her and check to make sure there’s no swelling in her brain. I told her I needed to find you, and she asked me to grab some stuff for her since she doesn’t have any working electronics.”

“I’ll grab her favorite books,” she says with a forced smile. “Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“Thanks.” I reach out and wipe a few tears that are resting on her cheeks and then give her a quick kiss. “I’m going to grab some clothes and toiletries she asked for. I’ll meet you back down here.”

She nods, and as she starts to walk away, I can’t help the ominous feeling that comes over me, like everything is about to change—and not in a good way.

So, I grip the curve of her hip and pull her back toward me. “Everything is going to be okay,” I tell her, palming her cheek and looking into her eyes. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” she says. “Everything will be okay.”

THIRTY-ONE

Kinsley

As I walkto the master bedroom, I keep repeating to myself that Taylor’s okay, hoping if I repeat it enough times, I’ll believe it. Shane might’ve said everything will be okay, but until I see her for myself, I won’t believe it.

I don’t understand why her mom would let her take her seat belt off. And what was Taylor thinking? It only takes a split second. What if the accident were worse and she flew farther? Hit her head harder? We could’ve lost her, and for what? So she could have her damn iPad? The second I see her—after I confirm she’s okay—I’m going to make sure she never does that shit again.

When I step inside the room, I’m hit with all the sticky notes I put everywhere. I quickly remove them all since now isn’t the time to be cute—and Shane obviously didn’t notice them when he was in here, waking me up—and shove them into my makeup bag, knowing he won’t look in there. After I get ready, I locate a few of Taylor’s favorite books and then meet Shane by the front door.

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