Chapter 30

Chapter 30
Angie

Angie woke up in a hospital room.
Sterile white walls, a line in her arm, and, her eyes drifted around the space . . .
Alone.
Funny. This was becoming a pattern in her life.
If two could be considered a pattern, she supposed.
Regardless, the lights were dim, so Angie guessed it was still nighttime, but the last thing she remembered was being wheeled down the hall for a CT scan. How long had she been out?
Well, apparently her brain was okay because she was alone and only hooked up to one bag of medicine.
Brain damage would require more than that, right?
She reached a hand up then nearly knocked herself unconscious when she found out in a rather painful fashion that her left arm was in a cast.
“Ugh.” Using her good arm, she reached for the remote and tilted the bed so she could sit up. The movement made her head pound, but she kept going anyway. Her purse was sitting on the rolling table.
Head spinning, it took incremental movements to bring it closer, but finally she was able to reach her cast-free hand inside and extract her cell.
There were a dozen missed calls from Anna and Mandy, plus text messages and calls from Kelsey. Even the group chain with Cora, Kels, and company was flooded with concerned inquiries.
But the one person she really hoped to hear from had been silent.
She called Mandy first.
Her sister picked up before it even rang once. “Angie? Are you—?”
“I’m okay.”
“I’m coming home,” Mandy said, and Angie could hear movement in the background. “I knew when I saw Max get off I should have followed, but I got on the damned plane and then I heard and now you’re—”
“I’m fine, Mandy. Pinky promise,” Angie told her. “Aside from a splitting headache, so if you could take it down a notch that would be great.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Angie smiled. “Please, don’t apologize. I’m good but tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“Of course.” She sniffed. “You had me worried there, kid.”
“I always pull through.”
They exchanged goodbyes and then Angie sent a text to the group chain and Anna, fielding replies and giving assurances for a few minutes.
And then, heart in her throat, she texted Max.
Her response was silence.
Look, she got it. Brayden had been under her supervision. She’d let him down, had put his son at risk, and—
Tears flooded her eyes.
It was her fault that Brayden was—
Please, she sent. Please just tell me if he’s okay.
Finally, what seemed like an eternity later, her cell buzzed with a response.
He’s uninjured.
But not okay? She wanted to ask but was too scared. What if he wasn’t okay? And they’d already established the whole situation was all her fault. If she’d been more aware of her surroundings, if she’d taken up Devon on that ride . . . it might not have happened.
Dammit. She’d been through this before.
She should have known better.
I’m so sorry, Max.
Me too, Angie.
Angie. Not Angel.
As far as painful goodbyes went, that one was at the top of the list.