Seventeen
Going Out Of My Head
At St. Joseph’s…
My heart slices open, ice churning in my gut. Amber’s at the hospital just a few blocks over from our apartment. And she’s been there since four. Over two hours. The whole time I was spying on her messages.
I tear out of the apartment. And forget a cab, I run the whole ten blocks to St. Joseph’s. Needing to see her. Needing to know she’s alright, even as I assure myself she’s just with a client, as I tear down city blocks in wingtips.
That’s got to be the reason. But I guess I don’t believe me, because after busting through the ER’s doors, I cut straight to the front of a long line and say to the nurse, “My wife, Amber Reynolds. Is she here? Was she brought in?”
I’m a sweaty mess, and I guess not quite as distracting as Kevin thinks I’l
