Page 53 of Holding On

Everything hurts.

“Tinsley?” I know that voice. Where is that voice? I look to my right and see him.

My Jack.

He’s not in London—he’s here.

“Hi,” I rasp out, but my throat is scratchy and feels like sandpaper. I wince in pain before a large water tumbler with a straw appears in front of my face from the left. As I turn to see who is holding it, my gaze meets the bloodshot eyes of my big brother.

Has he been crying?

“Hey, Wells,” I manage to say before taking a tiny sip of water. I take a few more tiny sips before slowly lying my head back down then looking at Jack. “What happened?”

“You’ve been sleeping off and on for the last day or so. What do you remember?” Jack asks me.

I slept that long? Why do I feel so exhausted then?

“We left the Grammys and then Roman was being an epic asshole. He didn’t take us to the party we were supposed to go to and was yelling at me about not ending our arrangement.” A flashback of fear washes over me. “He was driving so fast too, like he had lost it. It reminded me of when Rick would yell at me over something I didn’t do, and he kept hitting the steering wheel.”

“Anything else?” Wells quietly asks.

“Fiona … Fiona was in the backseat and was so scared, we were holding hands. Oh my God, Fiona, where is she? Is she okay? I need to see her!” I look at Wells, who is now looking at Jack. Jack gives him a small nod before looking at me.

“Do you remember anything else, baby?”

Why didn’t he answer my question?

I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, but that feels like a terrible idea and sends a sharp pain somewhere in my head. “He was driving really fast and then…” I gasp as I remember seeing the glimpse of the concrete barrier. “Did he drive us right into that damn barrier?”

Jack nods. “We aren’t sure what caused the crash, but his car collided with the concrete barrier. Anything else?”

I shake my head then stop, because for one, that hurts, also, it’s not true. “Fiona was yelling at him to slow down, and he said he couldn’t and then…” There are small flashes of being in an ambulance, and other snapshots of what was likely my arrival at the hospital and people shining bright lights in my eyes.

But … I can’t remember seeing Fiona after she was yelling at him to slow down. I don’t remember seeing her in the hospital, and she’s not here in my room waiting for me, so where is my best friend? “I want to see Fiona,” I declare. “Can they put us in the same room or something?”

Jack takes my hand and gently squeezes it. My breath stalls at the look he’s giving me. “We will coordinate with the medical team and take you to see her, but you need to know that Fiona suffered much more extensive injuries in the crash.”

“What? She was in the backseat though; she should’ve been safer. That doesn’t make any sense. Roman and I were the ones that took the blunt of the crash.” I look at Wells who is clearly crying, and I know that’s a really bad sign. I look back at my boyfriend. “Where’s my best friend, Jack?”

“Fiona was in the backseat, but it doesn’t sound like she put her seatbelt on.”

A vague memory pops up of Thor telling me to buckle up while I was fighting with Roman. Didn’t I tell Fiona to do the same? I can’t remember. Was I too distracted by Roman being an asshole that I didn’t tell my friend to buckle her seatbelt? Or did I just assume she would because who doesn’t get in a car without buckling their seatbelt?

“You still haven’t told me where she is, Jack.”

“She’s in the ICU and in critical condition. Fiona had emergency surgery when she arrived at the hospital due to internal bleeding and multiple fractures.”

“She what?!” My eyes widen, and I immediately regret the movement. “Take me to my friend. I want to see her. And Roman better be running far away from me because I am going to kill him.”

Jack’s face is neutral—too neutral. It’s his practiced Ice Man look that Wells has teased him about for years.

But no one is laughing right now.

My stomach sinks. “Jack, where’s Roman? Is he in the ICU too?”

Jack slowly shakes his head. “No, Roman … he died upon impact, baby. He’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”