Page 136 of Now and Then

Another pause stretches between us.

“We’re on the way. You can tell her yourself when we get there.” Luke ends the call, tucking his cell phone into his pocket.

The room turns into a storm of action—chairs scraping back, whispered calls for shoes, keys, and purses.

Based on Luke’s response, it sounds like he was talking to Hunter. That’s a good sign, right?

Greer steps forward. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Hunter,” Luke says. “I’m not sure what’s happened, but he’s in the ER at Suncrest Valley Memorial.”

My eyes go wide, breath faltering. Navy’s arms wrap around my waist at the same time Greer takes my hand.

“Luke,” I say, “is he okay?”

Tears pool at the corner of my eyes.

Luke nods. “He says he is, but he needs us.”

28

Sutton

The drive to the hospital feels incredibly fast and incredibly slow.

Luke’s truck eats the road in long, urgent stretches, but my heartbeat still outruns the engine.

Streetlights flash across the windshield in sharp, white bursts. Each one makes me flinch.

Navy takes my hand to keep it from shaking. She presses her shoulder into mine, a reminder that I’m not alone.

Luke doesn’t say much. He doesn’t have to. Every line in his face tells me exactly how nervous he is. I know he’s trying to hold it together for me like I’m trying to hold it together for him.

The hum of the tires is too loud, air too thin. I squeeze Navy’s hand tighter. Every second stretches, warps, pulls tight like it’s going to snap.

“Hunter is tough,” Navy says. “He’ll be okay.”

I stare ahead at the glowing hospital sign, bright against the night, and force a breath into my lungs that don’t want to work. He’s okay. He has to be.

Luke parks and is out before I can find my seat belt. Navy and I scramble from the backseat, joining Luke and Greer at the entrance. Voices filter in as the rest of our friends join us.

A moment of panic swooshes through my stomach, remembering the last two times I was at a hospital. Two moments that would change me forever—losing my dad and losing my baby.

A beat or two of silence passes as we look up at the hospital. “Are we not going in?” Vinnie asks.

“Just give them a minute,” Luke says, voice low, gesturing toward Greer and me.

And then I remember Greer hates hospitals as much as I do. We reach for one another at the same time, her arm looping through mine. “You ready?” she whispers.

I’m not ready. Not even close. But this is not the time for me to unravel. Hunter needs me.

We move together, bracing against the cold rush of the automatic doors. The sharp antiseptic smell hits immediately. The lights are bright, humming faintly, washing everything in a sterile glow.

My feet want to stop. My heart doesn’t. Momentum pulls me forward even as my stomach tightens and heat spreads across my chest.

The receptionist looks up, and Luke steps in before I can find my voice. “Hunter Michaels,” he says. His voice is steady even though his hands curl into fists at his side.

She taps her keyboard, gives a quick nod, and motions toward a set of double doors. “He’s not been transferred to a room yet. The ER only allows family members.”