Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“He didn’t show up for work again this morning. It’s unlike him. But you know, we all have emergencies, right? Except he’s not answering my texts or my phone calls.”
“He was supposed to call me Sunday morning, and he didn’t. I…I didn’t call him to check.”
“Why not?”
“I thought he was blowing me off.”
“Jesus Christ, the two of you…” He sighs. “It’s been more than twenty-four hours, so I’m calling the cops.”
“Can you please keep me posted? Please?”
“Yeah. Absolutely. Thanks, Mandy.”
He doesn’t sound overly sincere. Probably thinks it’s my fault for not checking in with Jackson. What has happened to him? To the man I love?
Ben Black has all kinds of resources. He’ll find him.
In the meantime, though, I need to do what I can.
It’s Tuesday morning. Where would Jack be, besides work, on a Tuesday morning?
And the answer is that I don’t freaking know. He’s my best friend. I should know. But Jackson doesn’t miss work unless he’s at death’s door. He’s very dedicated.
I could call his gym, but Ben probably already did that.
Mary. Maybe Mary at Treasure’s Chest… They know each other.
I should be working, and the shop doesn’t open until ten.
Now what?
I could go to the club, but it’s closed. They wouldn’t let me in anyway.
My God, Jack. Where are you?
I try to calm myself by posting on social media for Lily, but I can’t focus.
I take Roger on a long walk, then, for an hour, trying to relax. He nearly gets into a fight with another little Chihuahua, so I’m anything but relaxed.
When I get back to my place, my phone is buzzing.
It’s Ben’s number.
“Found him,” he says. “He’s at Mount Sinai. He was attacked early Sunday morning.”
I gulp.
My God. That’s why he didn’t call me.
And of course I thought the worst.
“I’m on my way.”
…
Jackson lies in his hospital bed, his eyes closed. His gorgeous skin is pale, and he looks so weak.
“Are you family?”
“I’m his friend. Mandy.”
“Mandy Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“He’s been asking for you.”
“Have you contacted his parents?”
“We haven’t. We don’t have any information. He didn’t have any ID or phone on him when he was brought in.”
Poor Jackson has a black eye, a swollen jaw, and probably more bruising under his gown that I can’t see.
“Can you tell me anything?”
“We can only give that information to family.”
“I’ll call his parents.” I pull my phone out to give them a call. I don’t want to alarm them, but these people won’t give me any information. “Can you at least tell me if he’s all right? Before I scare his mother half to death?”
“His prognosis is good.” The nurse smiles. “I’ll get his doctor for you. She’s right next door with another patient. I know she’ll want to talk to Mr. Doe’s parents.”
“He’s not Mr. Doe. He’s Jackson. Jackson William Paris. He’s—” I choke out a sob.
“Ma’am, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”
I nod, shaking, as I call Jackson’s mom.
“Hello, Mandy,” she says.
“Mrs. Paris—Noreen— I…”
“Mandy, what is it? You don’t sound good.”
“I’m fine. And Jackson… He’s going to be okay.”
“Going to be okay?” Her voice goes shrill. “What are you talking about? What happened?”
“I…”
A doctor comes scurrying into the room. “Are you Ms. Thomas?”
“I am. Are you Jackson’s doctor?”
“Yes. I’m Dr. Hodges.”
“I have the doctor,” I say to Jackson’s mom into the phone. “I’m going to let her explain.”
I hand Dr. Hodges the phone, and then I collapse in a chair next to Jackson’s bedside. Here and there, words make their way into my brain.
Attacked, probably from behind. Clubbed on the head, robbed. No internal bleeding, no bleeding in the brain. A fairly serious concussion, but he’s coming out of it. He knows his name now. And he knows Ms. Thomas.
Pause.
I will myself to focus. I need to hear about Jackson.
“No surgery is necessary. We watched him very carefully, and he’s progressing nicely. He’ll probably be able to go home tomorrow. He had a bit of amnesia at first, but now he knows who he is.”
Pause.
“Yes, ma’am, that’s why we didn’t call you sooner. He didn’t have his phone or his ID, and he couldn’t remember his name.”
Pause.
“Yes, it’s very common. His prognosis is excellent.”
Pause.
“Not at all, ma’am. We’ll keep you posted.” Dr. Hodges hands the phone to me.
“Noreen?” I say.
“Yes, Mandy. Thank God you’re there with him.”
“He’s going to be okay,” I say, more to myself than to Jackson’s mother.
“Bill and I will get there right away. He’s out on a jog, but I’m going to call him. Tell Jackson we’ll be there within an hour or two. As quickly as we can.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you, Mandy. Thank God he has you.”
I end the call and shove my phone into my pocket. Then I sit down next to Jackson.
“Jackson? Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
He opens his eyes. “Mandy?”
“Yes, I’m here. Just sleep. Get your rest.”
“It’s funny,” he says. “I remembered you before I remembered myself.”