Beautiful Graves(59)

“Like . . . collapsed?” I choke out.

Another beat of silence. This time, I realize, Joe is trying to control his emotions. “Yeah.”

“But why? Why would someone just collapse like that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

He doesn’t answer.

“People don’t just fall into traffic. Something must have happened,” I continue arguing with no one in particular.

I can’t think straight. I run out the door before remembering I don’t have my keys.

“Cab it,” Joe says. “Don’t get behind the wheel. It’s pissing rain and you’re in no condition.”

I don’t have the mental capacity to argue with him right now, so I just ignore his words. “Where are Gemma and Brad?”

“On their way. I shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. I just left Pres—”

Presley’s apartment. Or bedroom, more specifically. He doesn’t have to say it. Not so surprisingly, though, I don’t give a damn right now.

“It’ll take me ten minutes,” I hear myself say. “Call me when you get there.”

I don’t know how I do it. The mundane small things that usually require no special effort from me. Buckling my safety belt. Maneuvering the steering wheel. Waiting on traffic lights. Especially as I slide into the designated parking spot in front of the emergency room. I kill the engine, curl my fingers around the steering wheel, and let out a scream so shrill it makes me nauseous.

Then I wipe my tears, get out of the car, and walk over to the emergency room’s reception. The receptionist directs me to another wing. Apparently, Dom is in surgery. I’m in some kind of a waiting room, with depressing blue chairs, a smaller reception area, and big windows overlooking the parking lot.

I’m standing in front of a set of doors leading to a hallway with another set of doors. Dom is somewhere back there, though I’m not sure what kind of surgery they’re performing on him. I don’t know anything, and it is driving me mad.

I don’t allow myself to think about the fact that his last visit was to Walgreens, to get me tampons. For my fake period. I don’t dwell on how stupid it is. How meaningless. I can’t do this to myself right now. Instead, I pace from corner to corner, playing with my diamond ring on my finger. He can’t just die. People don’t get engaged and die on the same day. This is not how the world works.

A petite blonde woman in blue scrubs dashes across the hallway toward the waiting room. She’s out of breath. Is she one of the doctors who is performing the surgery? Can she tell me anything? I’m about to ask her, but she bypasses me, slapping her hands over the reception desk.

“Belinda?”

“Dr. Nelson!” The receptionist stands up and reaches over the counter to give her a brief hug. “I’m so sorry. What a nightmare.”

The blonde lets out a low moan, leaning into Belinda’s shoulder. “I called Dr. Hansley. He’s performing the surgery right now. It’s a penetrating brain injury.”

“Did he say how it’s going?”

The blonde shakes her head no.

I tell myself that they might not be talking about Dom. It’s juvenile to think there’s only one surgery going on in this hospital at this moment. I stop pacing, listening to their conversation nonetheless. It’s the only thing I can do right now.

The blonde notices my presence for the first time. She turns to me, her face open and friendly despite her obvious distress. “Sorry, are you waiting for someone?”

“Yes.” I find my voice—barely. “Ah . . . Dominic Graves.”

“Are you a friend of his? A patient?” The blonde woman strides over to me. Up close, she is beautiful, in a cool, swanlike way. Then, before I can answer, she offers me her hand. “I’m Dr. Sarah Nelson.”

“Sarah!” I take her hand, squeezing. Relief washes over me. She is the woman from the fridge magnet, of course. From the charity event Dom attended earlier this year. “Dom told me about you.”

I think about the time he mentioned that a doctor named Sarah had told him to check on Craigslist for missing posts when Loki disappeared.

Sarah gives me a sad smile. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Do you know anything about his . . . situation?” I lick my lips. It is so nice of her to be here, to make sure that he is okay. I’m not surprised, though. Dominic is an amazing guy who digs his way through a lot of hearts and stays there.

Sarah blows out a breath. “Well, I called the neurosurgeon who’s operating on him as soon as they told me he’s here. They’re performing a delicate brain surgery. He only said that Dom fractured his skull, that there is bleeding in multiple areas, and some tearing of brain tissue.”

I drop my face into my hands and weep. I hate that I’m so powerless. That things are out of my control. I hate how unnecessary this situation is. How random.

Sarah reaches over, rubbing my arm. “I know. It’s terrible.”

Instead of answering her with words, I just bawl harder. She clasps me into a hug. I don’t know why everyone I love ends up dying or seriously injured. Mom. Dom. Maybe I’m cursed. Maybe the best thing I can do for Dad and Renn is stay the hell away from them. Maybe they know that, which is why they never call anymore.

No wonder you are obsessed with gravestones. You have the tendency to put people under them.