Page 111 of Ordinary Secrets

Not at all.I probably broke at least sixteen laws with my motorcycle coming here as I weaved between cars and ran stop lights. “Where. Is. She?” That’s the third time I’ve asked, and I’m not asking again.

“Look, I understand you’re probably scared right now, but don’t worry. She’s fine.” Sara smiles as if to soothe me. “Just calm down, and take a deep breath.”

I hate when people tell me to calm down. It only irritates me more. Still, I obey her and suck in a deep breath. It does nothing to settle me.

“Great. I’ll go grab Dr. Jordan. He’ll meet you in the family waiting room.” She points toward an open room down the hall with a kiddie table and chairs. “In the meantime, could you check in?” She hands me a clipboard.

I sign the damn paper, then slap a sticker with my name on it against my upper chest. Then I force my body into the family waiting room. It’s small and smells of musty carpet and old shoes. In the corner, a little TV plays an animated movie at a low volume. A large round table sits in the opposite corner with an unfinished puzzle scattered on top.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Victor again. I don’t want to be in the middle of a conversation with him when the doctor comes, so I let it go to voicemail.

All my nails are chewed down when I finally hear, “Mr. Grant?”

A tall man with rich bronze skin and graying hair appears in the doorway. My zense activates as he offers me the knowing smile that Zordis do whenever we first meet another of our kind. “I’m Doctor Jordan. Thanks for coming so quickly.”

I don’t return his smile. “What happened?”

The doctor places a pen into the chest pocket of his scrubs, sighing. “Miss Rance was in a car accident.”

My knees almost give out.A car accident?

The doctor throws his palms up. “She’s fine. Just whiplash, a few stitches, and some bruises.”

Whiplash? Stitches? Bruises?My brain can’t comprehend what any of those words mean when it comes to Arella. How can this man talk about all of that as if it’s normal?

“Can I see her?” My voice comes out broken like the way my chest feels.

“I’m sorry. You’ll need to wait until she’s done testing.”

“I can’t justseeher?”

“Not while she’s going through an MRI.”

The little patience I have left snaps as I growl, “How long is that gonna take?”

“Maybe an hour. Two at most.”

Two hours?My heart can’t take another minute of this. “What caused the accident?”

“A car T-boned her at an intersection and fled the scene.”

I plop into the closest chair. The doctor continues, but my mind doesn’t process it. All I hear isblah, blah, blah.

When Dr. Jordan leaves, the tingling in my chest leaves with him. I barely get a moment to myself before that same nurse knocks on the doorframe.

“Could I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? A snack?” Sara’s got that pointless smile glued to her face again.

“No, thank you,” I reply blankly as I stare aimlessly at the TV.

“If you wanna pass some time, there’s a gift shop downstairs.”

“Thanks.”

Twenty minutes later, I pace the hospital with a large gift bag in hand, trying to pull myself together. They said she’s fine. I shouldn’t be so worried. But if she’s fine, why does she need MRI scans? And stitches? What if she’s not fine, and they lied to me to prevent me from freaking the fuck out and tearing this place apart until I find her? If I don’t see my girl soon, I might do just that.

A person in the room at the end of the hall has five miserable people surrounding them. All their feelings of despair are drowning out the emotions of everyone else in the hospital. I do my best to channel my mind power toward Sara, who seems to be the only one around who’s spirit isn’t dying inside. The most that does is lower everyone else’s murky energy to a constant whisper—a loud whisper.

Eventually, I hide in the stairwell to call Liz. She’ll have something good to say. She always does.

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