Taming the Street Racer ✔️

44 | shattered

Violet swallows. "She cut off a chunk of the girl's hair," she says, smiling.

Tommy nods, also grinning slightly. "Yeah, then Talia's mom decided that Gracie would be better off if she went home. She tried calling Gray but he wasn't answering. So Gracie gave her my number. I made her learn it just in case she ever needed me. She needed me and I came."

I play with the frayed edges of Violet's blanket, sorting through the millions of thoughts running through my head. Tears prick at my eyes again as I consider every little occurrence that led up to this disastrous even. To Gracie lying unconscious in a hospital room.

Pey opens her mouth to offer a few comforting words, then the door opens. When we look up, an older man wearing a badge is strutting in. Everyone except Violet stands up, surprised and put on-edge by this new arrival.

"Thomas Kennedy and Violet Liu, right?" He asks, moving his pen between them. "Officer Byrne. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

His voice is gentle but imposing, letting us all know that his words were a demand. Tommy nods slightly and sits back down. His face is steeled over, unsure of what's going on as well. I cast Vi one last confused glance as Peyton pulls me out of the room.

When we're in the hallway, neither of us ask the question occupying our full attention. Why is a police officer questioning them?

"It's probably a routine thing," Peyton justifies. "Something they do for all car cr--"

A door slams somewhere, sending a loud sound reverberating down the hallway. We both look toward the direction of the sound but don't see anything. We only hear shouts. The words are hard to understand, too far away, but the voice is one I'd never forget.

Grayson.

Immediately, without thinking, I rush toward his voice, anxious to be there for him through whatever fit of rage he's going through. I've seen him at his worst--I can handle this. Pey tries to grab my wrist but I slip out of her grip, running toward him. She desperately shouts something behind me but I'm too far from her to understand.

I pump my legs as fast as I can, dodging slow people in blue scrubs telling me to slow down. I push past people, grazing shoulders and slipping between couples. The yells grow louder, and I don't know if that's because I'm getting closer or because Gray is getting angrier.

I round a corner and take in the aftermath of his outburst. Three nurses are crowded around Gracie's doctor, examining him and bombarding him with questions. Are you alright? Should we call security? Did he hit you? The doctor just shakes his head. From here, I can't see any obvious injuries on him and I breathe a partial sigh of relief. But my chest is still compressed with fear for what else Gray could have done and whatever else he's still capable of doing.

People gather before me, eyes wide and mouths agape, reeling from the violent scene that just unfolded before them. Blood is stained on the walls in a gruesome mosaic and I scan the crowd to figure out whose blood it is.

Then my eyes land on him, walking away from the scene--from me. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are gripping his hair harshly as he walks toward the exit. Even from here, I can see the bright red staining his knuckles, dripping down his tense forearms and onto his clothes. I pray that it's his own blood and not the blood of someone who got in his way.

I snake through the crowd of people, and I feel transported back to that day in the hall, fighting my way toward him. He's bloody and broken, internalizing his pain and unleashing his anger through his clenched fists. I need to get through. I need to get to him.