Page 92 of Fit for Love

I strain to hear, but I can’t.

“Allergic to what?”Ashton shouts.

I can’t hear the answer to this either, but Ashton grits out, “She’s your fucking daughter.It’s your job to know.”

Okay, so I guess it’s one of his parents, and the person in trouble is his sister.

My already-hammering heart speeds up.I really like Jordan, and if something bad has happened to her?—

“Did they let Mom ride in the back?”Ashton half asks, half demands.

“Good,” he says next.“Keep me posted.I’m heading to the airport now.”

Hanging up, he looks at me, eyes wild.“Jordan had an allergic reaction.Dad doesn’t know to what.She’s being driven to the hospital as we speak.I’m going over there.”

“Which hospital?”I ask.

“Boston Medical Center,” Ashton replies as he steps over to the curb and hails a cab.

I blink.“Boston?”

“She went to visit our parents,” he says over his shoulder.

Oh.

A cab stops and he jumps in.On impulse, I join him.

“What are you doing?”he demands.

“Coming with you,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel.

“Did you not hear?It’s in Boston.”

“Right,” I say.“I don’t mind the trip.”

“It’s going to be dangerous.”Before I can clarify as to how, he tells the cabbie to get us to JFK and promises him a hundred-dollar tip if he can make it there in a half hour.

“Make it three hundred,” the cabbie counters.“And if I get a ticket, you pay it.”

“Deal.”Turning to me, he says, “Now please get out.”

“No.”I cross my arms over my chest.“Speeding doesn’t scare me.In fact, it sounds kind of fun.”

“You’re slowing me down,” he says.“Please just?—”

“Can you just take me?Please?”

“Fine.I don’t have time to talk you out of it.”Turning to the cabbie, he says, “Let’s go.”

The guy punches the gas, and we torpedo forward.

I bite my lip and sneak a glance at Ashton.“Can we talk?”

“No,” he says without looking up from his phone.“You’ve slowed me down enough already.I’ve got to make arrangements with my dog sitter and get plane tickets.”

Ah.“Okay.Get me one too?I’ll pay you back.”

He grumbles something unintelligible, still without looking up, and stays on his phone for the next fifteen minutes—which makes him miss the car-chase-like maneuvers the cabbie pulls on FDR Drive.

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