Page 31 of Hounds Ascend
Where there would normally be a line of motorcycles in front of the clubhouse, there is emptiness. My car is the only vehicle here aside from Raven’s, which means it’s going to be easy to get into my car and get to the hospital without having to explain myself. I haven’t looked at my phone for the duration of the ride home and I know Cass likely has been informed that I’m not in Gulfport anymore.
“Thank you, for everything,” I say, leaning over the console to hug Raven.
“Anything for a Hound ol’ lady.” She grins a shit-eating grin.
“Do you want to stay the night here or are you okay to drive back?” I ask, aware that it’s well after three in the morning and Raven has likely been up since early yesterday morning.
“I’m good to drive. I took a nap today before I started getting things ready at the clubhouse. Besides, if I don’t show up athome tonight, Micah is going to send a search party after me. He’s already called twice, but he’ll be okay. I’m going to give him a call when I get back on the road. Go take care of your friend, girl.”
“Okay. Let me know when you make it home. Here,” I hold my hand out for her phone and type my number in when she hands it over.
“I will. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
I step out of Raven’s Kia and walk the few feet to Betty. The clubhouse is vacant from what I can see. No vehicles in sight and all the lights are off. I slide into the driver’s seat and crank my car. I’m about to head to the hospital when I check my notifications. One missed call from Cass and one text message.
Cass: Just call me and let me know you’re okay.
I dial his number and put the car in drive. It rings twice before the line picks up. All I can hear is the wind and a slightly muffled sounding motorcycle. Cass is hollering something into the phone but I can’t make it out over the wind noise. I hang up and drive to the hospital. He will call me whenever he can.
I hate hospitals. They’re so white and sterile and out-right depressing. I associate them with death, probably because that’s the last place I saw my grandmother and father alive. Losing two people in a year that were so close to my heart kind of makes me steer clear of their white hell holes.
Parking in the parking garage is a bitch, and I try to make a mental note of what row I’m parked on as I nearly sprint tothe elevators. The closer I get to seeing Mindy, the more anxiety rises in my chest. I approach the nurse’s station, ready as I’ll ever be.
“I’m here to see Mindy Hollis,” I say, intertwining my fingers together nervously as I wait for the heavy-set older lady sitting behind the counter to respond. She has a feel about her that says she’s a sweet grandmother who bakes cookies and shows up to all of the grandchildren’s school functions.
She smiles sweetly at me over the top of her glasses as she taps away on the keys of the computer in front of her. After a few seconds, she writes down a room number on a sticker with the hospital’s logo with ‘Visitor’ underneath it.
“Here. Room 4230. The elevator is down there on the right, when you get to floor four, take a right and follow the signs.” She hands me the sticker, smiles at me, and returns her attention back to her computer.
I do as instructed, and make it to the elevator, take a right on floor four, and follow the signs pointing to different sets of room numbers. As I approach room 4230, a nurse is walking out and there’s muffled chatter coming from inside. Someone else is here with her.
I knock lightly before letting myself in. Linc is sitting on the side of Mindy’s bed, his hand clutching hers. Mindy’s awake and sitting up, tears falling down her cheeks. Her eyes snap in my direction and when they land on me, she smiles.
I’m surprised by how put-together Mindy looks. She’s banged up, but her face is nearly without a scratch. The onlyindications that she had been in a “horrible accident” as the nurse put it, is the bandage that spans from her right temple to her ear and the small cuts on her forehead.
“You look like hell,” I say with a half-hearted smile and tears pooling in my eyes. I approach the side of the bed that Linc isn’t on.
“Thanks, bitch.” Mindy smiles through tears of her own and I throw my arms around Mindy’s shoulders.
“I was so worried about you,” I sigh, squeezing Mindy.
“Ow!” Mindy howls.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” I let go of her and back away slowly, still inspecting her.
“It’s alright. Just fucking hurts. What are you doing here? I thought Linc said you were in Gulfport still and hadn’t heard anything about this yet?” she asks, looking back and forth between Linc and I.
“I’m your fucking emergency contact,” I state, as if I’m telling her the temperature outside. It’s common knowledge.
“Oh. Yeah. See,Iknew that, but neither one of the guys did when theythoughtthey could keep this kinda stuff from you.”
That makes me feel a little better about the entire situation. Mindy knew they’d call me, and she didn’t say anything to the guys intentionally. My fucking best friend. I want to squeeze her again, but I opt out of putting her through more pain.
Speaking of guys…
“Where’s Cass?” I ask, directing my attention to Linc.
