Page 113 of Don't Think

“Ana, I’m so sorry,” I say softly and pull her into me.

I let her cry into my shoulder and pat the back of her head, trying to soothe her.

We sit like this for a few minutes.

Sitting.

Waiting.

Praying to whatever god might be listening that she’s okay. That somehow, she’s going to pull through this.

Then it hits me that she wasn’t alone in the crash.

Ana lifts her head from my shoulder, sniffling while she frantically wipes her eyes dry.

My eyes stay locked on her while I carefully mull over my words since I’m not exactly sure how she feels about Nora right now.

I clear my throat. “Where’s Nora? Is she okay?”

She scoffs, shaking her head.

Okay, then. Noted—Nora’s a no-go topic right now.

But then she turns to me and wipes under her eyes. “She’s perfectly fine,” she says. “She’s in a sling.”

I blow out a breath, unsure what to say that won’t just make everything worse.

“Yeah, that’s—”

“The funny thing about all of this?” she cuts in. “She’spregnant. After accusing Allie of being pregnant and screaming at her, it turns outsheactually was this whole time.”

I shake my head, trying to process too much shit at once.

Allie’s in surgery. Nora’s pregnant. What the hell is happening?

“Has anyone checked on her?” I ask cautiously.

She nods. “Yeah, she just went for a walk. She’s fine, Jax.”

I sink back into the chair, melting into it while my fingers absentmindedly skim over the rips and tears in the material.

Then an idea hits me, and my head snaps toward Ana.

“You said they wouldn’t tell you anything because you’re not family, right?" I ask quickly, the words spewing out before I can even think about it.

She scoffs, tossing her feet up onto the coffee table cluttered with magazines.

“Yup. Said we’d have to sit out here and wait until she’s allowed visitors.”

I spring out of the chair, my body moving on pure instinct, while I head straight for registration.

When I reach the desk, a young woman with short, blonde hair sits behind it, clacking away on her keyboard. Her eyes lift slowly to meet mine.

“Hi there! How can I help you?” she asks cheerily.

Cheerily. In an emergency room. At least someone’s happy to be here.

My hand grips the back of my neck, and I squeeze like that’s going to help.