After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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"Jimmy."
I stood in the bedroom doorway, gripping my phone.
Jim was sitting on the bed. His tired eyes met mine and widened. "What's wrong?"
"I have to go to Harris Memorial. Isla's foster mom passed away."
"God." Jim rubbed his face. "Get your things; I'll take you."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. Just let me get the car keys. Does Isla need anything?"
"I don't know," I said, grabbing my purse. "Ivy texted me, but I didn't hear my phone. She isn't picking up now."
A nod was Jim's answer. I slung my purse over my shoulder and shoved my feet in my sneakers in the hallway. Jim put on a hoodie over his white tee and gently nudged me forward, out of the apartment.
A short elevator ride later, we were walking toward Jim's Audi in the underground garage. I got inside as soon as he unlocked the car and buckled up while he did the same.
Heavy silence stretched between us. The shock of the sudden news and the sadness our argument caused filled my insides. I studied my clasped hands, looking at my lap.
Jim's warm hand wrapped around mine. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know. You?"
"Same." Jim sighed. "Did you know Isla's foster mom well?"
"Of course." I smiled. "Isla and I have been friends since elementary school. Rose was always so kind. We had lots of sleepovers at Isla's when we were little. I can't believe Rose passed away. She needed a heart transplant, but we thought she'd hang in there."
"It sucks. Poor girl must be devastated."
"Rose is the only family Isla has ever had. I don't even know what to say to make her feel better."
"Let her know you're there for her. Sometimes it's the best thing you can do. That's what friends are for, after all."
"Thank you." I squeezed Jim's hand. "And thank you for taking me to the hospital despite what happened earlier."
"We'll talk about it later," Jim said with his eyes focused on the road ahead of us.
My dad texted me where Isla was. When we got to the hospital, we headed straight for the room he'd indicated.
Isla's head snapped up as Jim opened the door. Both girls were sitting on a couch, and Ivy had her arm around Isla's shoulders. I wasted no time rushing to them.
"I'm so sorry," I said, hugging Isla tightly.
She sniffled and gave me a small smile that didn't reach her red eyes. "Thank you, Ava."
"I'm sorry," Jim said, crouching down in front of Isla. "Do you need anything? Coffee?"
"I've had enough caffeine not to sleep for a week, thank you," Isla said. "And thank you for being here, guys. It means a lot."
