Hell Without You

Chapter 12

She gripped the phone hard enough to hurt her fingers. "What kind of accident?"

"Car accident. It's my fault – I left the keys on the counter and he took it out an hour ago. He told me over a year ago that he didn't sleepwalk anymore. I didn't realize..."

"Is he hurt?" The adrenaline spiking through her veins told her that he was, that Ricardo wouldn't have called her at three in the morning if he hadn't been.

"Yeah. He made it about four blocks before he plowed into a telephone pole. No seatbelt, so he got banged up... I'm at the hospital with him now. Listen, I'm sorry. I know it's my fault. I shoulda hid the keys, shoulda—"

Ricardo seemed truly agonized, and the sound of his voice wrenched at some painful place inside her. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know yet. There was blood on his face when they pulled him out of the car, but I'm no doctor. It was dark anyway and I was scared shitless. Donovan gave me your number when he first got here – said it was in case of an emergency – and I called you right away. Didn't know who else to call."

Donovan had given Ricardo her number as soon as he'd arrived? In case of an emergency? Clementine's stomach twisted. "I'm coming to Miami. I'll be on the first flight out of Dulles. I'll need the name of the hospital, and your address. Is this a number where I can reach you?"

"Yeah, this is my cell. Call it anytime. I'll text you that other stuff, unless you have something to write with?"

"No..." Scrambling out from beneath the blankets, she was woefully unprepared for Ricardo's call, for the thing she'd been dreading ever since Donovan had announced that he was leaving the state. At least her suitcase was still packed.

"Like I said, you can call me. I'll call you when I know anything."

"Okay." Pulling off her pajama bottoms, she flung them across the room. "I'll keep my phone on until they make me turn it off on the plane." The thought that she might have to wait that long for information was agonizing – hopefully she'd know more before she even reached the airport.

And hopefully Donovan's injuries wouldn't be that bad. Praying for nothing more than a few bumps and bruises – head wounds bled easily, so it didn't have to be something life-threatening – she pulled on jeans and a top, then raced down the hall with her suitcase in tow. Before rushing out the door, she grabbed her purse, checking to make sure her wallet was there before she left. She'd need her credit card to make it to Miami.

For every hurried step she took, her heart beat a dozen times, pounding so hard against her ribs that her chest ached, even as she sank into the driver's seat of her car and sped away into the night. She was the only one on the roads, and it had been a long time since she'd felt so alone.

* * * * *

By the time she landed at the Miami International Airport, night had turned into day, though she still felt the darkness she'd woken in clinging to her, setting her on edge with thoughts of the unknown. The drive from Willow Heights to Dulles had taken two hours, even with her speeding a little, but she'd had no choice – none of the smaller, closer airports had had flights going out to Miami any time soon. At Dulles, she'd been able to purchase a ticket on a non-stop flight that had departed at six AM. Expensive, and she'd barely made it on board in time, but worth it.

During her drive, Ricardo had called to give her an update. Donovan had suffered some head trauma in the wreck, plus a fractured collarbone. The former worried her far more; his collarbone would heal, but his head? A few stitches were nothing to go to pieces over, though she hated the thought of him bleeding, but Ricardo had said there was a concussion.