Page 89 of Just This Once

“Oh god,” I cry, knees threatening to give out.

“The ambulance left for the hospital a few minutes ago.”

My breath hiccups as I force the words out. “I want to go. I have to go.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

I stuff my phone back into my pocket and trip up the steps, furiously wiping at my face. If I’m going to go, I need to have some semblance of awareness. I race up to the second floor, yelling my kids’ names. They both rush into the hall before I’ve even made it to the top step.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” Jake asks, holding out his hands for me as if I might fall. My boy, now a young man.

“It’s Dante,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “He’s been in an accident. I need to go to the hospital.”

“Is he okay?” Maddie asks, and I shake my head, tears filling my eyes again.

“I don’t know.” A wave of nausea passes over me, and it takes a few moments for me to feel like I’m not fighting the ocean current. “I don’t know,” I repeat again, unable to make the promise this time, that everything will be okay.

Because I don’t know.

And I’m afraid it won’t be.

Maddie lunges at me, throwing her arms around my middle. Jake loops his arms around the both of us, and then we’re all crying. They’ve both grown so attached to Dante, losing him would not only be a blow to me but to the kids as well.

As much as I tried to deny it, the four of us have formed a special bond over the last few weeks. One of laughter and safety. Hours spent watching Frankie chase Tortellini on hisskateboard. Sharing dinners and watching Dante gossip with Maddie and play soccer with Jake. The nights he spent in my bed.

All of it has imprinted on my skin, soothed my soul, and strengthened me to keep going. I kiss both of my children on the head. “Take care of each other. I’ll let you both know as soon as I hear something.”

The drive to the hospital is a blur. I don’t remember parking or rushing into the ER, but suddenly, I’m standing in the waiting room, my heart pounding in my chest, white noise in my head. There are a handful of people here, including a couple in the corner who catch my attention. The man has a full head of dark hair and a familiar-looking profile. The woman clasps a rosary, her lips moving silently in prayer. They must be Dante’s parents.

I hesitate, unsure of what to say—if I evenshouldsay something—so I stay rooted in my spot, nervously plucking at the zipper of my coat until I hear my name. I whirl around and run to my brother. He hauls me into a hug, one hand on my head, the other around my back. “I’m sorry, Taryn. I didn’t know what I should do, if I should call…”

“No, you did the right thing,” I say against his coat. When he relaxes his grip on me, I step back but hold on to his arms to keep myself steady. “What happened? How bad is it?”

“I don’t know for sure.” He winces. “My crew was called to the scene, and from what the driver said, it seems like he came out of nowhere, like Dante didn’t see the car around the curve. He was unconscious, and… It wasn’t good. Most likely a few broken bones and probably some internal bleeding, but I don’t know the details, only what I could gather from the EMTs.”

My eyes sting with tears, but I blink them back, needing to stay in the moment, cognizant enough to understand the information.

“It’ll probably be a while,” Griffin says, and I nod.

“I’m not family. They won’t let me see him.”

He glances to the hospital wing doors as if he might be able to throw his weight around and get me into Dante’s room.

“I’m staying,” I tell Griffin resolutely. “I’m staying here until I know what’s going on.”

He squeezes my hand. “I’ll make sure the kids are taken care of. Don’t worry about them. Just take care of yourself, all right? You’re no use to anyone if you’re not functioning.”

The last person I’m worried about is myself. In fact, it feels like penance. I don’t deserve to feel comfort right now. Not until I see Dante and win his forgiveness.

Griffin curls his arm around my neck, tugging me to him again, his lips against my hair. “Keep your head, yeah?” When I nod, he offers me a soft chuck under my chin. “Let me know if you need anything.”

I open my mouth to answer, but instead of my gratitude, it’s a shuddered breath. Griffin merely kisses my forehead, understanding and compassion in his dark eyes. The same ones as mine. The same as Ian’s and Roman’s. As our mother.

Once he’s gone, I take a seat close to the doors and settle in to wait.

Twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes.

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