When I walk into my apartment half an hour later, Nora is not there. I can’t remember the last time she’s slept at home. At this point she’s just paying half my rent. I grab a quick shower, push Loki into his carrier, and pack a light bag.

I’ve picked up the sticky note pad by the fridge, about to write Nora a message, when my phone rings in my back pocket. I pull it out and see Joe’s name across the screen. My heart skips a beat. For a second, I contemplate not answering. Or at least, I pretend to contemplate this, because there’s no way I can resist the urge.

I swipe the screen, sighing.

“Look, I know there’s still stuff to talk about—”

He cuts me off. “You need to go to the hospital.”

“What?” I ask.

“Salem’s general hospital. You need to go there. Right. Now. Dom’s in critical condition.”

I drop the sticky notes and the pen on the floor. My legs are shaking. I try to breathe, but the air gets stuck in my throat. “What do you mean? How? Why?”

“Ever. Ever. Ever.” Joe’s voice is husky, like he’s been screaming. The lack of his casual indifference throws me into the depths of hysteria. “It happened about half an hour ago. He crossed the street back from Walgreens. Got hit by a truck.”

“Oh my God!” I yelp. “What happened? Was the driver drunk?”

I need something, or someone, to be mad at. The roaring engine and the rain hitting Joe’s car tell me he is on his way too. I kick into high gear, running around the apartment, putting my shoes on.

“They don’t know,” Joe says, finally. “They don’t know shit, Ever. I only got the call ten minutes ago. A couple witnesses who were there said that he fell right into incoming traffic. On a red light.”

“Like . . . collapsed?” I choke out.

Another beat of silence. This time, I realize, Joe is trying to control his emotions. “Yeah.”

“But why? Why would someone just collapse like that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

He doesn’t answer.

“People don’t just fall into traffic. Something must have happened,” I continue arguing with no one in particular.

I can’t think straight. I run out the door before remembering I don’t have my keys.

“Cab it,” Joe says. “Don’t get behind the wheel. It’s pissing rain and you’re in no condition.”

I don’t have the mental capacity to argue with him right now, so I just ignore his words. “Where are Gemma and Brad?”

“On their way. I shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. I just left Pres—”

Presley’s apartment. Or bedroom, more specifically. He doesn’t have to say it. Not so surprisingly, though, I don’t give a damn right now.