The words hit me like a freight train. Lia’s in trouble. She’s at the hospital. I was still reeling from the conversation with Grey, but now my mind shifted focus in an instant. All the guilt, all the mistakes I had made—they didn’t matter. At least, not right now. Lia needed me. I had to get to her.
I stood up abruptly, knocking over my drink, not even bothering to pick it up. I didn’t need the alcohol anymore. I needed answers, and I needed to be there for Lia, whether she wanted me there or not.
“Where is she?” I demanded, already walking toward the door.
“She’s at Saint Michael’s. Room 403,” Lia’s mother said, her voice trembling, though I could hear the sharp edge of desperation. “Cross, she’s—she’s not well. Please, come quickly.”
Without another word, I hung up, the sharp click
