Page 77 of Love on the Line

“Anne? Are you okay?”

The sound of his voice brought tears to her eyes. “Yes. Are you?”

“Oh, thank God. Where are you? I’ve been going crazy.” He wheezed. “No one would tell me anything.”

“You don’t sound okay. What did they say is wrong?”

“I have a fractured sternum and a cracked rib. There’s some internal bleeding, so they’re observing me for now. I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Internal bleeding?” Adrenaline rushed through her body. That was serious. “Will they need to operate?”

“They hope not.”

She brought a hand to her chest and took a shaky breath. Breaking down wouldn’t help. “I’m coming right over.”

“Don’t rush. I’ll be here. I thought maybe you were admitted, too. Scared the hell out of me.”

Her head throbbed. No point in worrying him over the concussion. “They checked me out in ER and released me last night. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. John’s on his way over to interview me.”

“John?” That’s right, he was a Baltimore police detective.

“Yeah, this happened in his precinct. He’ll be working the case.”

“Well that’s good.” It couldn’t hurt to have a friend on the force who cared about the outcome. “See you as soon as I can.”

She hung up and let out the tears she’d held in check. Devon rubbed her back. “I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

“I don’t know. Internal bleeding? That’s bad. And he has a cracked rib and sternum.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Could you please take me to the hospital?”

“Do you want to go to your apartment first?”

“No. I don’t want to waste the time. I’ll ask Emily to run some clothes over to me on her lunch break or something. She has a key to my place.”

“Whatever I can do to help.” He stood, and she followed him to the kitchen.

He packed up his laptop and opened the door to the garage. “Which one do you want to ride in?”

“What?” She glanced at the row of cars gleaming under the light. Last night she hadn’t even noticed them. Who needed that many?

“I…I really don’t care. Whichever one has the least chance of breaking down. That seems to happen to me.” Much as she hated heights, she’d take a helicopter if it got her to Wyatt faster.

Devon’s eyes flashed. He snatched a set of keys from the hooks on the wall. “Every one of these is in perfect shape, so that should never happen. We’ll take the Porsche.”

On the ride to the hospital, a million “what ifs” badgered her brain. None of them good. She gripped the arm rest and forced herself to breathe.

“The seat and backrest are independently adjustable if you aren’t comfortable in that position,” Devon said. “That’s one of the nice features of a Porsche.”

“It’s really fine. But thanks.” She sent a group text to let people know she was okay, telling them she’d call from the hospital after she saw Wyatt. Her empty stomach gurgled, and a headache made her queasy.

After what felt like forever, they reached the hospital. Devon parked in his reserved spot, and they got out of the car. When they neared the entrance, a woman and man, both holding microphones, raced up to Anne.

“Ms. Cooper, can you tell us what happened last night? What’s the status on Wyatt Pearson? Is it true that his injuries might prevent him from going back to the Ravens?”

Cameras snapped, and Anne’s heart rate soared off the charts. This couldn’t be happening.

Devon held a hand up and slung a protective arm around her. “No comment.”

Oh, God no. Now they had pictures of her wearing Devon’s shirt and sweats, her bandaged face pressed against his chest, while presumably on her way to see Wyatt.

The press was going to have a field day.

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