CHAPTER SEVEN

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PENELOPE

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PENELOPE

I'm crying so hard as I run for the bus stop. It's slippery and wet, but that doesn't stop me. My phone is calling Max on a loop, but he's not picking up. I could call a taxi, but the number three bus will be quicker.

"Penelope?" A car pulls beside me and my dad's voice stops me in my tracks. "Jesus, what's happened?"

My hair blows in my face when I rush over to the car. "Max is at the hospital."

His eyes widen. "Jump in, honey. I'll take you."

I climb inside the car and he whizzes off towards the hospital. My shaking hands pressing between my knees as they bounce uncontrollably. The car scent tree hanging from the rearview mirror waving from side to side when dad drives a bend.

"What's happening with Max then?" he asks, looking over.

I shuffle around and shove my phone in my pocket to keep it safe. "He sliced his hand up."

"At work?" he asks and I find myself nodding because it's not his business to know the truth. "You looked so scared running down that path."

"I just need to see him," I say, squeezing his hand when he pats my knee.

The car journey is incredibly tense all the way to the hospital. Once dad enters the carpark, I jump out and rush towards the entrance while he finds someplace to park.

I go straight into the A&E department, pushing through the heavy swinging doors. It's packed to the rafters with people in here, which makes it impossible to find Max, so I head straight to the desk.

An older lady gives me a small smile. "How can I help?"

My fingers grip the edge of the desk. "Please can you help me? My boyfriend cut his hand badly and I think he was brought here."

"Maxwell Trenton?"

I nod. "Yes, that's him."

"Are you Penelope?" she responds.

"Yes," I say, relief flooding me. "That's me."

She's up at walking around to me, nodding towards the doors behind her. Her smile is one of relief. "Right this way."

"Is he okay?" I ask as we walk the clinically white wash hallway, speeding up as soon as I hear Max's voice.

"Where's Penelope?" I hear him shouting.

The older lady turns to look at me. "He's been desperate to see you."

We turn the corner and there he is pacing the floors. A nurse is speaking to him, but he's on another planet right now and is paying no attention.

"Max. I'm here," I say.

I'll never forget the look on his face. The relief is real. A big bandaged hand is pressed firmly against his chest, the other arm reaching out for me as he pulls me so my face is flat on his chest.

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