Oh god.
She looked at the clock. Still another two hours in her shift. Her boss was not very forgiving when it came to employees leaving their shifts early, even for emergencies. If she left now, she might get fired.
But Fox was hurt and it sounded like Luke and Atlas needed her. If it wasn’t serious they wouldn’t be texting her.
Oh god . . .
She’d been ignoring him for the past week, hoping answers would be clearer with space between them. Now none of that mattered.
His slow smile filled her mind, along with a sudden cold dread. What if it was bad?
Fuck, she’d been such an idiot.
Without hesitation, she grabbed her purse from the locker and turned to Jake. “I have to go,” she managed to say. “It’s an emergency. Tell Craig I’m sorry and if he has to fire me, I understand.”
Jake’s eyes went wide. “Are you okay? What happened?”
She shook her head, feeling like she was suffocating. Before he could say anything else, she was out the door and running to her car.
Once she was in the seat, she took a second to text Luke back.
I’m on my way. Be there in 10.
Stupid tears started before she even reached the highway, trying to blind her. There was no saying if he was in real danger. Maybe this was just a ploy to see her? She hoped it was, even though she’d deck him if that was true.
If he was dying they’d have told her to meet them at the hospital, right?
She tried to keep from speeding excessively but it was difficult. Why had she been so stubborn about her feelings for him?
What if it was too late to tell him? That thought froze in her head. She turned it around, analyzed it. Tell him what exactly? That she really, really, really liked him?
Fuck, Addison. Stop being a wuss and just say it.
She loved him.
Maybe it was true, but it didn’t relieve the tightness in her chest. She loved him. She loved him in all the mushy, gross ways most girls felt when they fell in love. She loved him in the “I want to have his babies” way, and that was a fucking lot coming from her.
When she pulled into Fox’s driveway, the floodlights illuminated a banged-up Cadillac with a busted out window. There was glass all over the seat. Atlas and Luke were outside on the lawn. No sign of Fox. Her heart felt like it was in her throat, pounding and choking her. This was bad.
Atlas paced the yard and Luke walked to her car slowly, a grim look on his face.
She opened the door and jumped out. “What happened?”
Luke put out a calming hand. “He’s okay. He just . . . got a little shot.”
“‘A little shot’?” she yelled.
“Shh!” Luke scowled at her. “It was Marcel. He went after him.”
“And he got shot? Like, by a gun?” Idiot. She could kill him!
Atlas shrugged. “It’s just a little scratch.”
She had a feeling they were downplaying it in a big way. Her gaze flickered to the banged-up car. On the ground outside the driver side door were small dark puddles that looked suspiciously like blood. Her stomach lurched.
“The doctor’s in there with him,” Luke said. “He’s awake and making jokes. He’ll be fine.”
Immediately, she swept by him and made for the door. Atlas blocked her path.