Page 94 of Fit for Love

“She did get epinephrin,” Ashton says.“But she’s still pretty swollen.They’re waiting for her to get admitted.”

“Ah.”I buckle myself in.

Ashton hides his phone and sits in tense silence as the plane takes off.

Why is he not talking?Is it worry about his sister, or is he still mad at me?

I wrack my brain for something to ease the tension, but the best I can come up with is a suggestion to order some food.

“Right,” he says.“We never ate that sushi.”

I order the overpriced turkey and Swiss sandwich, while he gets the chicken Caesar wrap.

We eat in silence.My sandwich tastes like paint chips, and I’m not sure if that’s because of the lower air pressure, the airline’s crap sandwich-making skills, or the fact that Ashton is still visibly upset—for which I can probably take most of the blame.

“Hey,” I say when the meal is over.“Can we talk about that whole Ash misunderstanding?”

His frown deepens.“Not now.Please.”

“Right.Makes sense.”And it sucks ass, but I can’t exactlymakehim talk.And maybe he’s right not to want to hash out things now.He might be too worried about Jordan to talk calmly and rationally.

Still, in my head, I play out the possible conversations that we might have, and they only end up making me feel worse about the whole thing.

As soon as we land, it’s full speed ahead again.Talking on his phone with one hand and grasping my hand in the other, he pulls me through the crowds of passengers.His touch, though hurried and careless, grounds me.He only releases me once we’re settled into another cab.

“What did they say?”I ask after Ashton offers the current cab driver the same deal he made with the one in NYC.

“She just got admitted,” he says.“Waiting for a doctor.”

“I see.”

The rest of the ride happens in more silence, but at least it’s blissfully quick.

When we get to the emergency room, three people jump from their seats and approach us: two older adults who are likely Ashton’s parents and an attractive woman about my age.All three of them are dressed in that understated yet posh way that all but screams “old money.”

When Ashton spots the younger woman, he halts in his tracks, and his expression darkens—an impressive feat, given his mood on the way here.

“Gwyneth,” he says in a voice so icy it makes the way he’s been talking to me during this trip seem warm and fuzzy.“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The older woman who’s most likely his mother clutches her pearls, literally.“Is such vulgar language necessary?”

Ashton’s reply sounds like a low growl, and Gwyneth takes a step back before saying in a breathy voice, “I happen to know Jordan.We took Intro to Computer Science together.And Intro to C++.”

“Yeah, sure.”Ashton’s voice drips with sarcasm.“You’re practically BFFs—except for the part where she hates your fucking guts.”

“You’re upsetting your mother,” his—I presume—father says coldly.“If you must know, I invited Gwyneth after you told me you were coming here.I didn’t realize you’d have company.”He gives me a cool once-over.“I had hoped that maybe you’d come to your senses and?—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Ashton snaps, then turns to the young woman.“Gwyneth, you’d better go.”

“No,” his mother says.“She’s been useful.I want her to stay.”

“And how has she been useful?”Ashton demands.

“She got us access to the hospital system,” his mother says.“Told us which doctor Jordan’s speaking with and what university he got his degree from.”

Ashton whirls on Gwyneth.“You hacked into the hospital’s system?You realize that can get you a visit from the FBI?”

His father finally looks at me.“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

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