Curveball(35)

“It’s Mark—”

“What about him?” Panicked, the bile rises up my throat, choking me.

“He’s been in an accident. It’s bad…really bad.”

My heart pounds in my chest, beating so fast that I have trouble breathing. “What?” I gasp for air, tears spilling down my face. “Is he okay?”

“They took him to Hahnemann’s Trauma Center He had internal bleeding from something that punctured one of his organs. I don’t know all the specifics.”

I fan myself with my hand, my skin on fire. The burning sensation that creeps up my chest and down my legs is so overwhelming, I could pass out. “I…I think I’m having a heart attack,” I sob into the phone. “I…can’t…breathe.”

“Hey, Liv, don’t check out on me. You’re okay. It’s a panic attack. Tony and I are on our way over to get you. We’re going to the hospital.”

“How bad was the accident?” I choke out. “Was he racing?”

“No, it was the guys from the crew they beat from Long Island. Mark called Tony to help him out, but by the time the cops got there, they had 76 shut down at the Passyunk exit. I doubt they even know what happened.” A brief pause passes between us, and the road noise in the background dies down. “We’re outside your apartment. Come down.”

My feet move faster than I expected as I grab my coat and purse, lock the door behind me, and run down the stairs. In my condition, I shock myself by not taking a header, and my feet slam hard into the tiled floor once I hit the bottom landing.

Donna gets out of the car to pull me into her arms and hugs me tight, her grip surprisingly strong as she digs her fingers into my back. “It will be okay. How are you feeling?”

“Not good. I need to see him.”

She opens the back door and holds it for me, waiting until I slide onto the leather backseat before shutting it behind me.

“Thanks for picking me up,” I say to Tony. “Have you heard anything yet?”

“Not much.” He shakes his head, his gaze traveling to the rearview mirror, as he grips the shifter and pulls out from the parking space and onto the street. “The last I heard, they were taking him to the hospital. I called Luca to see if he could get ahold of Mark’s mom. I tried ringing his house a few times, but no one answered.”

Sitting back in my seat, I wrap my arms around myself, and the tears start. They don’t stop until we step into the emergency room. Luca and Hunter are already here with their girlfriends, the two girls crying on the arms of each man. While Luca and Hunter know about me, I insisted that Mark leave formal introductions alone until after he graduated, out of fear someone would find out about us. But I have a feeling it will not be long until our relationship is exposed.

Some of the guys from Mark’s team are waiting next to their coach, who is leaning forward in his chair with his elbows on his legs, his head propped up with his palms pressed into his face. We take a seat across from Luca, Hunter, and the girls.

We wait for what feels like hours, days, years, as Mark’s fraternity brothers and the rest of his team members shuffle into the waiting room, filling up the remaining chairs, some of them forced to stand. At least one hundred people must be here, all of them with fear in their eyes.

I can tell Luca wants to hold it together to keep his girlfriend from balling her eyes out all over again because she finally stopped. Mark loves him like a brother, has known him longer than anyone in this room, so I can only imagine how hard this must be for him to sit here and do nothing more than wait.

Leaning on Donna’s shoulder, my cheek pressed against her jacket, the tears streaming down my face, I say a silent prayer that Mark will be okay. I need him to be okay. Donna runs her fingers through my hair to soothe me. Just having her, the only person I know in the crowded room, next to me brings me some form of comfort, no matter how small that might be.

Afraid to look around the room, too scared to show my face around some of my students, I hide like a coward, using Donna and my hand as my shield.

It’s not until I hear someone yell, “My baby,” her shrieks pulling me from my own grief, that I peek out from Donna’s hair and see a middle-aged woman with long auburn hair, making a scene at the nurses’ station window.

“Listen, ma’am—”

“No, you listen to me,” she interrupts the nurse, her hand raised in the air.

I can practically smell the alcohol coming off her breath from my chair.

“He is my son, and I have every right to know about his condition.”

“Ma’am, if you could please take a seat,” the nurse says, speaking to who I assume is the mother Mark grinds his teeth over every time he speaks about her.

She has a teenage girl next to her, who must be his sister, Sammy. She’s dressed in baby-blue-and-white-striped pajamas, her eyes puffy from crying and her hair piled on top of her head.

Luca stands and says, “Victoria, knock it off!” His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room.

She spins around to face us, dark makeup streaked under her eyes and running down her cheeks with red lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth. Her stained jeans and T-shirt complete the haggard look. Despite her disheveled appearance, I notice Mark has the same auburn hair, except his has more brown where hers is more red and curled at the ends. They have the same green eyes that practically jump off their faces, combined with the same dusting of freckles on their cheeks.