Page 65 of Blindly Yours

“So, where’s Joe?” I ask with a raised brow.

“Sick.” He pockets his screwdriver. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to be back again.” Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small folded piece of paper. He hesitates briefly, then steps toward me and sets it on the table. “From Kara. I didn’t look at it.”

I open my mouth to ask him what it is, but he turns and leaves so quickly I don’t have a chance.

“Well, he’s in a mood, isn’t he?” George murmurs.

“He’salwaysin a mood,” I reply bitterly as I pick up the paper and slowly unfold it. It’s a drawing, of course. In the center, there’s a small house, covered in snow, and three people are in the front yard, making snow angels, I think. Just like before, the people are labeled. Kara, Dad, Rose.

I sigh and slide the paper into my pocket just as I hear Nate’s phone ring from the hall. I faintly hear him answer it, and I try to ignore it, but the tone he speaks with isn’t right.

“What happened?” he asks urgently, almost fearfully. “Shit… Ok, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

George looks up from his papers and meets my gaze quickly. Something’s wrong.

I stand up and cross the room to look tentatively into the hall, where Nate is fumbling with his phone in one hand. His other is pressed to his forehead. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Is everything ok?” I ask carefully.

His gaze snaps to mine as he lifts his phone back to his ear. “Kara fell on the playground at school. Lost consciousness.” He gulps. “She’s on her way to the hospital.”

My heart drops.

“Trying to see if my ride can get here sooner,” he says with a shallow breath.

I don’t hesitate. “Which hospital?”

“Monticello.” He begins to pace and shakes his phone against his ear.“C’mon…pick up.”

I don’t even question what I do next. I start heading toward my office. “I’ll drive. Let’s go.”

“What?” he says from behind me.

“I’m driving,” I repeat, disappearing through my door briefly to grab my purse.

“Are you…are you sure?” He comes around the corner, eyeing me apprehensively. “It’s a long drive. You don’t have to—”

“Don’t be stupid, Nate,” I push past him back into the hall and hurry toward the elevators. “Let’s go.”

He hesitates only briefly before he catches up and exhales. “Thank you.”

I nod curtly and press the call button as George peers into the hall, looking concerned. “I’ll be back in an hour or two,” I inform him quickly.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

“It’ll be fine,” I say as the doors slide open and Nate and I rush in. When they close again, I turn to him. “Was she still unconscious when they took her in?”

“Yes.” Nate is shifting his weight hurriedly from one foot to the other.

I picture sweet little Kara being loaded into the back of an ambulance, limp and unaware. I don’t want her to wake up in an unfamiliar place with a bunch of strangers. That’s scary for an adult, let alone a seven-year-old.

Maybe she won’t wake up before we get there. Or…maybe it’sthatbad.

“She’ll be ok,” I say quickly, watching the floor numbers tick down.

Nate just stares straight ahead again, paler than I’ve ever seen him. He doesn’t say a thing. In fact, he says barely a word for most of the trip. I drive as fast as I can without risking being pulled over. The roads aren’t too busy mid-morning, thank goodness. But the anxiety pouring off Nate next to me is contagious in the worst way. I suggest a few scenarios where Kara will be just fine. She just got the wind knocked out of her. She’ll wake up laughing because she was having so much fun. But he just stares blankly out the windshield, knuckles white as he grips his phone in his lap.

“They would have called by now if it was that bad,” I say. “She’s probably making friends with the doctors.”

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