“What’s happening?” The sound of the anguish in her voice, the tears that spill onto my shoulder, shatter me.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I repeat the words until Charlie takes Amelia from my arms. I don’t know where she came from or how I ended up in Mark’s car, but the next thing I know, we’re driving down the highway.
“Where are we going?”
“The hospital.”
My head in my hands, I try to wrap my mind around what in the fuck just happened. How did he find her? How in the fuck did he find her? Bile rises in my throat that I couldn’t protect her. I begged her to stay. Promised to keep her safe. I failed her.
I failed Amelia, too. Her life was put in danger—because of me, because I couldn’t keep them safe.
When Mark pulls into a parking space, I bolt from the car and head straight for the front desk.
“Ember Locke, where is she?” My tone is demanding and unforgiving. There’s no time for pleasantries. I need to see Ember.
“I’m sorry, I can’t give out any information.”
Anger rises inside me. “Tell me where she is.”
“Sir, you’re going to have to calm down.”
“This is me being calm,” I growl. A moment later, Mark is at my side, drawing me away.
“Sorry about that.” He apologizes to the nurse, who I don’t think deserves a fucking apology.
“I need to see her,” I tell him.
“I know, and we’ll do what we can, but you have to stay calm, or they’ll kick you out.”
“I’d like to see them try,” I shout.
The nurse stares at me shaking her head.
“I’m not good at waiting.”
“No shit. Christ, remember when we were kids and raced? I barely got out three, and you were off and running.”
I know that he’s trying to make me feel better, but the talking isn’t helping. I just want to sit here and pray like I never have before. Ember’s worth praying for. She’s worth everything.
“Mr. Sharpe?”
I hear a male voice behind me and spring to my feet.
“That’s me. I’m all she has. She moved here from Nashville. I don’t know any family to contact… Please, just tell me how she is.”
He hesitates for a moment, and I try to gauge if it’s because he’s not supposed to give out the information to me or because it’s that damn bad.
“She’s stable, though her head injury is pretty severe.”
“Is she awake?”
“She’s in and out, which is a good thing because she needs the rest. It really is the best medicine for her right now.”
I turn away, tears stinging my eyes.
“She’s asking for you.”
Relief washes over me. “I can see her?”