16
The phone call came at around four in the morning. Quentin’s phone buzzed from the kitchen counter. The familiar noise jostled him awake, atop his cloud-like bed, with his arms around Charlotte, who smelled angelic, like lavender. He inhaled a final scent of her before lifting his legs gently from beneath the sheets and walking, naked, toward the kitchen. The air was eerie and ghost-like, as it was just before dawn. He shivered, wishing he’d put on clothes. Fall was coming on fast.
When he saw who was calling him, panic immediately flooded his veins. He grasped the phone.
“Kate. What’s going on?” His words were harsh, raspy. He found it difficult to breathe.
“It’s Morgan,” Kate cried. “We’re at the hospital. I don’t know. She woke me up. She was having trouble breathing.”
“What the
