Page 39 of Cautious

“I think we should keep this between us, Kellen,” I tease. “If the guys find out, they will revoke your man card.”

“Oh, please, some of them are worse than me. Ask Arlo about his Britney fetish. He must have watched her videos a hundred times,” he protests.

“Watched or listened to?”

“Watched. Why does that make a difference? It’s still Britney coming from the speakers of his laptop, singing about a slave or some shit when I walk past.”

I shake my head at how dense he’s being. “I love Britney but I guarantee you he’s not watching Britney for her musical genius, Kellen. How have you never seen the ‘Slave for You’ video?”

He looks at me in confusion, making me burst out laughing as my phone rings.

I slide it out of my pocket as Kellen turns down the radio, silencing Justin Bieber’s voice and the whole reason for the prior conversation.

I frown, not recognizing the number, but it’s local so I answer anyway. “Hello.”

“Hello, is this Miss Ward?”

I frown. “Yes, this is she.”

“My name is Claire Sutton. I’m a nurse at the St. Vincent’s Medical Center. I’m sorry to tell you this, but your mother has been admitted with some serious injuries after being in a car accident today. She’s sedated now, but she managed to give us your details earlier.”

“What?” I don’t say anything else. I don’t even know what to say.

“If you could come down and fill out some paperwork, that would help us out a lot.”

“I… Okay, sure,” I answer, because what else can I do?

“Thank you, Miss Ward. When you get here, make your way straight up to the ICU on the fourth floor.”

I hang up the phone and stare at it, feeling strangely disconnected.

“What is it? What’s going on, Callie?” Kellen asks from beside me.

“That was the hospital. My mom’s been in a car crash,” I tell him, my voice sounding robotic and void of emotion. I feel nothing. My mom is in the hospital, shouldn’t I feel something?

“What?Fuck. Is she okay?” Kellen questions, turning the car around sharply. “Which hospital is she at?”

“She’s at St. Vincent’s,” I say quietly, trying to make sense of what I’m supposed to do now. I’d washed my hands of her, labeled her in my brain as a persona non grata, and now, all of a sudden, she needs me, so I’m supposed to pick up the pieces and form them into something salvageable?

“She’ll be okay, Callie,” Kellen reassures me, mistaking my quietness for worry.

I don’t answer him. What can I possibly say without sounding selfish?

Thirty minutes later, he pulls up at the hospital, slipping into a parking space behind someone who just pulled out. Our car comes to a stop for all of two seconds before we find ourselves shunted forward when something collides with us from behind. The force of the impact has me jerking forward, my head smacking into the dashboard with a thud that makes my ears ring.

“What the hell?” Kellen yells, turning to look at me. “You okay?”

I nod and watch as his face turns a shade of red when his eyes hit my hairline. That’s when I feel it, the telltale sign of blood trickling down my face.

“Stay in the car and call Marcus. He’s at the office, speed dial 2,” he says, tossing me his phone before opening his door and climbing out of the car.

Oh boy, this is not going to be good.

I press the number 2 button and wait for Marcus to answer, watching in the rearview mirror as two men climb out of a lifted truck that I assume is responsible for hitting us.

“Yo,” Marcus answers, surprising me. I had been so focused on Kellen that I almost drop the phone.

“Popeye?” Despite my best efforts, my voice cracks as I watch one of the guys shove Kellen, who doesn’t move at all.

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