Page 42 of The KING Review

I take a breath, but it dissolves instantly. My chest is a canyon, empty and echoing.

I check my phone. The little “played” bar under my message is blue. He’s heard it. I start to shake again, but I force my jaw tight. If I can get myself together before I go back out there, maybe I can hold it together, period.

I hobble out of the bathroom, smiling apologetically at the elderly woman waiting there.

The hallway is too bright. I crutch back to my curtained-off cell of suffering, plop down on the sticky vinyl, and immediately regret not stealing an extra tissue from the bathroom.

My phone screen lights up as soon as I sit.

INCOMING CALL: Professor Daddy

I can’t. I let it ring out. He calls again. And again. The phone vibrates so hard on my thigh that it nearly falls off.

I still can’t answer. If I hear his voice right now, I’ll actually dissolve into tears.

A text flashes up, somehow louder than the calls.

Professor Daddy:

If you don’t want me to come to the emergency room and make a huge scene to find you, pick up the phone.

I stare at the message. The noise of the ER is a thousand decibels, and I can hear the blood in my ears, but this is louder. The threat is not idle. This is a busy hospital, and I have zero doubt he would come storming in, ask for me by name, and make me the main character of the entire waiting room.

My phone rings again, and this time, I pick up.

I can’t even get a word out before he speaks. “Neve?”

There’s a pause. I try to swallow, but my throat is glue.

“Neve, are you safe?” His voice is all gravel, and it makes my heart do this pathetic, mortified swoop.

“I’m safe,” I manage. It sounds as if my mouth is packed with fiberglass. “I’m okay, I just—I hurt my ankle, and I’m alone, and I fucking hate hospitals. It’s loud, and it smells weird, and I can’t—I didn’t want to freak anyone else out. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even⁠—”

“Don’t apologize for this,” he cuts me off. “Do you hear me?”

I nod. I forget he can’t see me. “Yeah,” I whisper.

He lets out a long breath, then something that sounds almost like a laugh. “Fuck, you scared me, angel.”

My heart detonates in my chest.

I’m not even sure if he realizes he said it, because he just goes on. “I thought—fuck, you sounded so freaked out. I thought something terrible had happened.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I told you not to apologize, Neve.”

I swallow, unable to answer. I don’t have anything to say other than that I’m sorry.

“Tell me where you are,” he says firmly, and I hear the jingle of car keys and heavy footsteps on concrete, followed by a door slamming closed. “Exactly where you are.”

“You don’t need to⁠—”

“Don’t make me ask you again.”

My breath hitches, and I look up at the wall. All the fight has drained out of me. “Bay nine. I’m waiting for the X-ray tech.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”