Page 62 of Fighting Jacob

Oh.

“Are you drunk dialing me?”

His breathy chuckle does wicked things to my insides. “No. It’s Emily.”

Any playfulness heating my veins vanishes. “Emily? What happened?”

I jab my keys into the ignition to fire up my Jeep when he replies, “She’s been admitted to Ravenshoe Private.”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Not worrying about my belt, I dump my phone on my passenger seat, throw my gearstick into reverse, then tear out of Pete’s lot like a maniac. My forty-minute trip to Ravenshoe is a blur. I don’t pay attention to street signage or the music playing on the radio; my focus remains on figuring out why Emily has been admitted to the hospital. We’re not the closest, but that doesn't mean I don't love her, so to say I’m panicked would be an understatement. I’m petrified.

When I enter the multistory garage at the side of the hospital, I pull into the first available spot. I don’t bother locking up. Making sure Emily is okay is more important than replaceable possessions. I’d give up everything I’ve worked for the past six months if it ensures she’s safe.

When I dart through the double glass doors of the hospital, I spot Jacob waiting for me at the side. He moves for me as quickly as I race for him. Tears come close to toppling down my cheeks when my arms slinging around his neck coincides with him drawing me into his chest.

We stay huddled together for what seems like hours before the reason for our reunion smacks into me. “What happened to Emily?”

It takes Jacob a good thirty or forty seconds to set me down and drop his eyes to mine. “She was roofied at Mavs.”

My eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. “What? Like a date rape drug... Oh god, please tell me she wasn’t—”

“She wasn’t,” Jacob interrupts. “Noah got to her before anything bad happened.”

With distress holding my words hostage, Jacob guides me down the long white hospital corridor with his hand on the small of my back. The putrid scent of disinfectant overtakes his scrumptious aftershave the further we travel. When we reach a room halfway down, he shifts on his feet to face me. “Noah is a bit agitated. Em’s been out for an hour already. He’s not handling it too well.”

He waits for me to read the concern in his eyes before swinging open the door we’re standing next to. Noah’s eyes pop up when the door creaks. He looks as panicked as I feel. His eyes are the darkest I’ve seen, and a vein in his neck is working overtime.

After issuing him a hesitant smile, I make my way to Emily’s bedside. Seeing she’s safe firsthand is immensely satisfying, unknotting the rope that’s been strangling my heart the past hour.

I press my lips to her temple before shifting my focus to Noah. He stiffens when I embrace him like I wish I could Emily, but his tough stance crumbles when I murmur, “She’ll be okay. She’s stronger than anyone realizes.”

When his chin dips in agreement, I turn my eyes to Jacob. “Who called my mom?”

Suspicion is rife in my tone. My mom would be here if she knew Emily was admitted, so why isn’t she? She works at this hospital, meaning she would have arrived within seconds of being informed.

My suspicions are answered in an unfavorable light when Jacob murmurs, “No one.”

“What! Why?”

When Jacob requests to have a word in the hall, I glare at him before storming out. I'm peeved as fuck he didn't have the common courtesy to call the mother of the person lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Even if the person is a stranger, morals dictate that you contact their parents before anybody else—even their sister.

After taking on a strengthened stance, preparing for battle, I lock my narrowed eyes with Jacob. He’s as worked up as me. His face is lined with anger, and his jaw is spasming.

“Why didn’t you call my mom?”

“I tried to call your house, but for some reason, my number is blocked. Then when I tried your cell phone, I got the same message.”

My brows scrunch. What the hell is he talking about? I don’t have his number blocked.

“That’s why I called you from a payphone.”

The groove between his brow weakens when I murmur, “I didn’t block your number. I don’t even know how to do that.”

“Maybe you should ask your boyfriend. I’m sure he’ll show you.”

My lips form into a snarl, suddenly understanding where his anger is coming from. He heard about my meeting with Callum on Sunday. Although I'm more than happy to remind him he has no right to tell me who I can and cannot see, I've got more urgent matters to handle right now.

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