The only things in that room that said I belonged to someone were Ethan’s jacket hanging over a chair, Jenna’s paperback novel on the rolling table, and a grocery-store bouquet wilting in a plastic pitcher.
“Where are they?” I asked.
Ethan glanced at Carla.
It was a small glance.
It told me everything.
“My parents,” I said. “Did anyone call them?”
Carla lowered her clipboard.
“We used every emergency contact listed in your file,” she said. “Your mother answered twice. Your father returned one call. They said they had several things happening and would come when their schedule allowed.”
I stared at her.
“When their schedule allowed?”
She looked like she hated the sentence as much as I did.
“We made it clear your condition was critical.”
For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
