Page 82 of Deal Breaker
“You think it is?” Jesse asks, grinning. “Big words, Winters.”
“It’s been serious for me for a while.”
My brothers go quiet for a beat.
“You worried about her?” Wes asks, voice more serious now.
“I don’t know what’s going on, and I hate it,” I admit. “I don’t know if she’s okay, or if something happened, or?—”
“Okay, let’s try not to freak out,” Wes says. “Try the office. Maybe she’s been in meetings all day.”
I nod, swiping my phone to life and calling the Cove reception line. Chloe at reception answers on the second ring with her usual chipper greeting. “Cove! This is Chloe!”
“It’s Ford. Did Landyn come in today?”
There’s a beat of hesitation. “No. She called in this morning. Said it was a family emergency.”
My stomach drops. “Did she tell you what’s going on?”
“No, I’m sorry. She didn’t elaborate. Would you like me to look up her phone number for you so you can ask her yourself?”
“No, It’s fine, Chloe. Can you put Becca on?”
“Sure thing.”
After a few minutes, Becca is on the line. “Hi Ford…this is Becca.”
I lower my voice, tone firm but not unkind. “I know you and Landyn are friends, I know you talk. I’m not asking as your boss. I just…I’m worried. I’ve been trying to reach her all day. Do you know where she is?”
The beat of silence on the other end of the phone tells me she knows something. “Becca, please.”
“I—Ford, I don’t think I should…”
“Please.”
There’s a sigh. Then a soft voice. “She’s at the hospital…with her mom.”
Everything stills. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know exactly. She just said her mom fainted this morning in her kitchen and she needed to take her in. That’s all she told me, I swear.”
“Everything okay?” Noah asks after I end the call.
“Not really…I mean, it sounds like Landyn’s fine, but her mom’s in the hospital. Landyn’s there with her now. The two of them are very close, so she’s probably pretty worried.”
Noah claps a hand to my shoulder. “Then go find her, man. It might help her to see a friendly face. We’ll handle things here.”
I hesitate for a split second. Landyn would have told me if she wanted me there. Maybe she needs space. But the image of her pacing the hospital waiting room all alone pushes any doubt from my mind. I can’t just sit here, not when she might need me. I’m out the door without even saying goodbye. I run across the parking lot, jump into my truck, and start the engine before I have a chance to talk myself out of it.
I throw the truck into gear and head straight for the highway. I don’t know what I’ll be walking into when I get to the hospital, but I know I’m not going to let her go through it alone.
After a 45-minute drive, which should have taken over an hour, I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot. As soon as I walk through the sliding glass doors of the ER, the sterile scent of antiseptic hits me in the face. My boots echo on the tile floor as I make a beeline for the front desk.
“Hi. I’m looking for a patient—Carolyn Sinclair. Can you tell me what room she’s in?”
The nurse behind the counter gives me a quick once-over. “Are you family?”
“No. But I—” I scrub a hand through my hair. “I just need to know if she’s okay. Please.”
