Page 56 of Bad Boys Don’t Date Clumsy Girls

“What’s wrong with Mom?” But he’s already hung up. I look at Chloe with wide eyes. “He hung up.”

I don’t know why I told Chloe that, but the woman seems to understand. She steps forward and takes the receiver from my hand, placing it back on the cradle.

“Do you need me to take you somewhere, dear?”

Even in my state of shock, I recognize what a generous offer this is for Chloe to make during business hours. I shake my head. “No, he’s coming to get me.”

“Why don’t you get your stuff from your locker?” Chloe suggests.

I feel like I’m floating above my body as I respond. “Good idea.”

I’m in a fog, considering all the reasons Mom might be in the hospital, as I gather my stuff and head out front to wait for my brother. She must have gotten in a car accident. Probably drinking and driving. I’ve always worried about that and now it has happened.

It feels like forever before Joel pulls into the parking lot. His tires crunch to a stop in front of me and I climb inside, feeling like I’m on autopilot.

Joel’s brow is furrowed. Dark stubble covers his chin. His hair is messy, and his shirt is wrinkled.

“I don’t really know what happened. I guess she fell at work. When the person who relieves her got to work this morning, he said…” Joel looks sideways at me. “He said there was blood everywhere behind the counter. Like maybe she had fallen several times.”

“Oh no!” I look at the time on my phone. “Why are we just now finding out? Isn’t her shift over at 7:00?”

Joel rubs his face and growls. “Grandma is her emergency contact. She never answered her phone or listened to her messages—so she claims. A cop showed up at our door about a half an hour ago.”

“Oh no.” It seems to be the only response I know.

Joel nods. “Yeah.”

We’re silent the rest of the drive, lost in our own thoughts. Joel pulls into the emergency room parking lot, and I have to jog to keep up with his long strides.

The lights inside the hospital seem extra bright and the antiseptic smell of cleaner assaults my nose.

The person at the reception desk tells us which room Mom is in.

“It’s about halfway down the hall on the right,” she says.

We approach the door slowly as if in silent agreement to postpone the visit as long as possible. My palms are sweaty, and I rub them on my thighs before following Joel into the room. I’m not prepared for what we find. Mom lays in the bed with her blankets pulled all the way up to her chin. The top of her head is wrapped in gauze and her face is covered in fresh bruises.

I suck in a breath. The sound makes Mom open her eyes.

“Oh, my babies,” she croons. Her voice is weak and slightly slurred, like she’s still drunk.

Joel clenches his fists and his jaw.

I whisper, “Mom, what happened?”

“I don’t know, baby. They tell me I fell a lot at work, but I don’t remember.”

“You mean you blacked out,” Joel snaps.

I want Joel to calm down, but I’m too afraid to say so. Instead, I walk around to the other side of the bed and perch on the edge of a chair. “Do you hurt?”

Mom shrugs, her eyes flutter. “I’m just really tired.”

“Time to pass out again, huh?” Joel asks.

I give him a pleading look but he only scowls at me.

“I’m not drunk, Joely.”

---