Page 4 of Silver Lining Love

“Ms. Grimes is in emergency surgery. We’re doing everything we can?—”

A loud buzzing sounded in my head and I was barely aware of the phone slipping from my hand as my knees collapsed beneath me.

This wasn’t happening. It was a nightmare. It had to be.

2

WYATT

“Tragedy doesn’t send a save the date.” ~ Gamma Mary

In an instant,all of the color drained from Whitney’s face, and her legs went limp beneath her. One second, she was standing of her own accord, and the next, she was as floppy as a ragdoll. I tightened my hold on her as I fumbled to grab the phone when it slipped from her hand. Briggs’ DNA determined that I had ninja-like reflexes. I may not have played professional football like my brother Cooper or have won a World Series ring like my brother JJ, but I managed to keep Whitney upright and catch her phone before it hit the ground.

I lifted it to my ear as alarm gripped me. About a year ago I’d had to install a security system because a guy she’d dated turned into a stalker. She had a restraining order against him, that I’d insisted she take out. If that asshole was calling her, I was calling the police.

My tone was less than friendly as I asked, “Who is this?”

“Dr. Maron. I was speaking to Whitney Foster.”

“Yes, she’s...”She’s barely standing up. “…not feeling well. My name is Wyatt Briggs, I’m Ms. Foster’s neighbor.”

“Mr. Briggs, Ms. Foster is listed as the emergency contact for Addison Grimes. Addison was in a collision this evening, and both she and her husband are in emergency surgery. They are in critical condition.”

Oh shit. Addison. Addi. That was Whitney’s sister. They were close. Very close. She was basically the only family Whitney had.

“The kids…” Whitney grabbed my arm, her eyes wide and pleading. “What about the kids?”

“Were any children brought in?” I asked.

“No, sir. Just Mr. and Mrs. Grimes.”

“What hospital?”

“Mercy General in Rolling Springs.”

Rolling Springs was ninety miles away, but I could make it there in an hour. There was no way that Whitney was in any shape to drive. I could smell the tequila on her breath, and she couldn’t even stand.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can. Call us on this number if anything changes.”

The call disconnected, and I lowered the phone from my ear.

“Whitney,” I spoke her name calmly. She looked up at me with glazed eyes. “We need to go to the hospital, okay?”

She didn’t answer, just nodded.

I put my arm around her and guided her to the passenger side of my truck.

Once I got her settled, I told her, “I’ll be right back,” and shut the door.

I ran inside the garage, grabbed a sweatshirt and sweats out of the dryer, two water bottles from the fridge, put Moose in the house, and rushed back out to the truck.

When I climbed in, Whitney was still staring straight ahead like she was in a trance.

I still wasn’t sure how much of her state was due to the amount of alcohol she’d consumed tonight or if it was just shock. In case it was the former, I leaned over, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a plastic bag I’d had from my last relationship. Alana got car sick, especially at night, so I’d started storing bags.

“Here.” I handed her the bag as I backed out of the driveway. “In case you feel sick.”

She took it, but her expression remained blank.

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