Page 47 of Winter Glam in Amsterdam

Yet I would have never imagined that after this revelation of an evening, I would be waking up alone.

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Zoey's in the hospital.

Adam's words as I answered my phone when it started buzzing in the middle of the night through my ‘do not disturb’ echo in my head, each repetition increasing the panic that has settled in my gut.

I barely remember how I got onto the plane.

All I know is that I rushed out of Summer's room, running down the stairs to mine only to grab my passport and meet my brothers, who were already waiting in the lobby.

“And there's nothing else she said?” Reed had pestered Adam throughout our car ride to the airport, but he shook his head, his whole face set, jaw twitching as he fought to remain calm.

"Here." He threw his phone at Reed, who immediately pulled up Zoey's chat.

"Hospital, going in surgery now, love you," he reads out loud, lowering his hand holding the phone with a dejected look on his face.

“Nothing else? At all?”

“No. I tried calling for about twenty times, but nobody answered. I have my people on it, trying to find out which hospital she’s at, but right now it’s a waiting game.”

And then followed the silence.

We'd made our way through security on autopilot and gotten onto the plane without a word, all of us prisoners to our own thoughts. What happened? What is she going into surgery for?

It's hitting Adam and Jackson the hardest. They're sitting opposite each other at the table, a whole conversation happening between them without any words spoken.

And I can almost feel how all of this is bringing their past trauma right to the surface. Of course it would.

There is not a single doubt in my mind that their thoughts are going straight to the call they got when our parents were in that accident. I can see the memories replaying in their head, the way they are fighting to not let their desperation show.

"What if she's dead by the time we land?" Reed asks me in a whisper, and I quickly shush him, my eyes darting to my older brothers, sitting a only a few metres away, like statues.

Thank fuck they didn't hear.

"She'snotdead," I whisper back, barely audible, but Reed is wringing his hands, anxiously playing with his fingers.

"You don't know that."

"I'm pretty sure we would," I assure him, putting my hand on his shoulder to give him a reassuring squeeze.

I don't remember much of the day our parents died, but what I do remember is the feeling of overwhelming dread settling in my gut. The feeling of impending doom, the deep, undeniable knowledge that something terrible has happened, even before we got the call.

"She'll be all right," I whisper, more in an attempt to convince myself than him. "She'll be okay."

But will she? I try to catch more sleep, but I can’t. I try to distract myself, but even the thought of watching a movie whileZoey could be dying for all we know, has me nauseous. All I can manage to do is stare out the window, trying to let cloud formations distract me from all the different scenarios we may find once we land.

Maybe she’s been run over by a bus. The only silver lining is that she messaged Adam herself. I guess that means she was conscious and of sound mind before she went into surgery. Otherwise the hospital would have called… right?

The silence grows heavier as soon as the wheels of our plane touch the ground. Wordlessly we follow Adam through the gate as he barks orders and questions into his phone, almost jogging to keep up with him, then jump into a waiting car.

"Let's go," he tells his driver. "As fast as you safely can. Any fine you get, it's on me."

He gives Adam a solid nod, and we're barely buckled in when he takes off like he’s helping James Bond flee from his enemies.

Thank fuck none of us is driving. Jackson's hands are trembling, Reed's empty eyes are glued to the window, watching the city pass by, and I'm trying to keep myself together with my arms crossed in front of my chest.

What could have happened to her?

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