Page 351 of Small Town Firsts

But still, my engine doesn't start.

"Stupid fucking battery." It feels like the entire universe is conspiring against me.

I throw my door back open and grab my phone. I start to call Emmalyn, but see her phone sitting in my cup holder. My shoulders slump and defeat sits heavy on my chest. But I won't give up. Not on her, not ever.

I pull up the Uber app, but it's peak hours, and I don't have that kind of time to wait.

The drive here was about fifteen minutes, so maybe thirty on foot. I don't even think twice; I just start running. I would fucking crawl over hot coals if that's what it took to get to her right now.

By the time I reach her building, I'm a panting, sweaty mess, despite the chill in the air. My legs feel like jelly and my heart is like it's on the verge of stalling out.

I bang on the door before slamming my hand down onto the buzzer. "Geez, what's the—Sterling, are you okay?" asks Abigail, the redhead from the gym.

"Emmalyn. I need Emmalyn."

She eyes me curiously, more questions on the tip of her tongue, but I don't have time to waste. I have a gut feeling she's here.

I shove past her, bypassing the elevator, heading straight for the stairs.

"What's going on?" she asks, huffing as she struggles to keep up.

I beat on her door so hard my fist aches. "Emmalyn!"

"Sterling, this is...you can't do this. What is going on?"

"Emmalyn!" I try the knob. Locked.

I pound even harder, barely pausing to think through the consequences of my actions, before slamming my shoulder into the door.

Abigail screams as the wood splinters. I try to shove the door open, but something's blocking me. Which means she's here. She's fuckinghere.

I kick my foot into the small space between the door and jamb and make contact with something hard. A few more kicks, and I manage to move whatever she blocked the door with out of the way.

I step into the dark space and flip the lights on, still shouting her name. Abigail checks the bedrooms while I head for the bathroom.

What I see stops me in my tracks, my heart lodging into my throat, choking me as grief and guilt rain down on me.

"Oh my God. Baby!" I drop to my knees and pull her limp body to me, cradling her head in my lap. "Baby!" I press two fingers to her throat and shout for Abigail. "Call 911!"

She flies into the room, her phone already pressed to her ear. "Help, please help. One of the girls in my dorm... I think... she overdosed." Her words are rapid fire as panic consumes her, just as it is me.

"Put it on speaker," I order, and she does.

"I need you to calm down," the dispatcher says in a mild voice. "Is she breathing?"

"Yes, barely."

"Conscious?"

"No."

"Do you know what she took, sir?"

"No, I don't. I don't know."

Abigail rattles off the address, before collapsing to the floor beside me where she buries her face in her hands and cries.

Seconds feel like minutes and minutes like hours while we wait. "What's taking them so long?"

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