I won’t end the call with Avery, not when she’s unresponsive and I have no idea if she’s okay or not. I throw open my door, shove one of my shoes between it and the jamb to keep it from closing, and pound on the one across the hall.
A woman lives there. I wrack my brain for her name. I think she might work in the healthcare field. I always smile and say hi, but she’s in her fifties so I haven’t really spent a whole lot of time chatting her up, since she’s outside of my dating range by about twenty years.
She throws the door open, brows pulled together, frown in place, hair wrapped in a towel, the rest of her covered in a cheetah-print housecoat. Based on her fresh face and lack of makeup, she just got out of the shower.
“Declan?” I had no idea she even knew my name.
“Hey. Hi. Can I borrow your phone? Please.”
She glances at the one I’m holding to my ear.
“It’s an emergency. Avery’s been in an accident and I can’t hang up because I’m on the line with her, with Avery, but I need to call her sister. They track each other on their phones. She’s on the freeway and I need to know where. Please.” The words are stilted and difficult to get out, full of gravel and guilt.
“Oh my God. Of course.” She rushes inside, leaving me standing at the door, unsure if I should follow her in or not.
“Ave, I’m calling London,” I say, even though she hasn’t responded with more than a whimper or a groan so far.
My hands shake, making it tough to pull up London’s contact. I’ve called her a few times over the years, mostly on those rare occasions when Avery accidentally forgets her phone at home and I need to ask her something—like where she put the tongs or if she ate all the bacon again. Fear curls in my stomach like a snake at the possibility that I may never be able to do that again. That the steak I was planning to make for her tomorrow night may never happen. That this phone call could be the very last one I’ll ever have with her. It’s scaring the living hell out of me.
Avery has been my constant for years. We’ve been friends for a long time. And that bond has only gotten stronger since we decided to pool our resources, buy a condo, and move in together. She’s been the one person I can count on before all others, and I’ve let her down in an unforgiveable way.
I have to crouch down in the hallway, suddenly light-headed. My throat is tight and it’s hard to breathe, like there’s a weight on my chest that won’t lift. My neighbor’s slippered feet appear and she crouches down with me.
I hold up my device. “Do you think you can dial the number for me, please?”
“Of course. You must be so worried about your girlfriend.” She punches in the numbers, hits call, and puts it on speaker. I don’t care that I’m currently sitting in the middle of the hallway on the less-than-clean floor. I need to know where she is and how soon I can get to her. And that an ambulance is on the way.
“Hello?” London’s uncertain voice filters into the hall.
“London, it’s Declan.”
“You better not be calling me from your one-night stand’s phone,” she says with a bite in her tone.
Obviously Avery has talked to her already today. I imagine as soon as she got in the car she called her sisters and bitched about the way I’d let her down.
“It’s my neighbor’s phone.” I glance up and give her an apologetic smile and click off speakerphone.
“Your one-night stand was your neighbor? Good lord, you are the literal worst.”
“No. That’s not … I’m borrowing her phone.” I close my eyes and clear my throat to get the next part out. “Avery’s been in an accident.”
Silence follows, tense and thick like tar. When London speaks, all of the fire is gone and in its place is panicked disbelief. “N-no she hasn’t, I was just talking to her. Like ten minutes ago. She’s fine.”
“I called her a few minutes ago. I’m still on the line with her; it’s why I’m calling you on my neighbor’s phone.” Guilt makes the words feel heavy and impossible.
Real panic sets in and she rapid-fires questions at me. “Is she okay? Oh my God, she has to be okay. I should’ve insisted on going with her. What happened? Please tell me she’s okay. Where was the accident?”
“A white pickup was tailing her. I don’t know what happened exactly, and I don’t know if she’s okay right now, and I need you to use that location app so you can tell me where she is. Then we can call 911 and give them a location. I’m sure the ambulance is on the way, but I want to know where they’re taking her.”
“Oh my God. Oh God.” She calls for Harley, and they have a muffled conversation while her youngest sister pulls up the app and finds out where exactly the accident is. Once they pinpoint the location, I pull it up on a map. It’s an hour away. And I still need to get my car.
“You were supposed to be with her!” London says. “And now she’s alone in her car and we have no idea if she’s even okay!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”
“Harley and I are going to head toward the accident site.” She practically chokes on the words.
“If I find out where they’re taking her, I’ll let you know.”
“If she’s not okay, I will never speak to you again.” And with that, London ends the call.
* * *
I rush to put on my shoes, grab my wallet and my keys, and order an Uber. I talk to Avery the entire time, telling her I’m on my way and that London and Harley are too. I promise her she’s going to be okay, even though I’m not sure she is. Why isn’t she responding? I hate that this happened. I hate that I should’ve been with her, and now I’m not. I’m worried about London and Harley making the trip to the hospital on their own and how scared they must be.
The trip to get my SUV feels like it takes an eternity. By the time the faint sound of sirens can finally be heard in the background, I’ve been on the call with Avery for more than twenty minutes. Just as I slide behind the driver’s seat of my SUV, I hear the voice of an EMT.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me? Ma’am?”
I listen for Avery’s voice, but I can’t hear anything beyond the wind and faint voices that don’t match hers.
“We have another victim here. Weak pulse. She’s pinned and bleeding. We gotta get her out and we need to move fast.”
My stomach churns as images I don’t like flash through my mind. I start shouting, hoping that if I can hear him, he can hear me too.
“Hello? Is there someone else in the car?” Alarm fills his voice.
“I’m on the phone. Hands-free, should be on the dash.” It’s always where Avery keeps her phone when she’s driving. “Her name is Avery Spark. She keeps her ID in the back of her phone. She’s twenty-eight years old and she has a medical plan. She has pins in her ankle from a break when she was in her teens, but no other medical issues.”
“Are you her boyfriend or husband, sir?”
“She’s my best friend. Is she gonna be okay? Do you know what hospital you’re taking her to?”
“We’ll be taking her to Mountain General, outside of Golden. Do you know where that is?”