"Crash on the way taking Glenda home. The hospital's blood bank doesn't have enough—you're the same type as her."
A life was on the line. I didn't argue.
Down in the garage, the front end of his car was crumpled almost beyond recognition, smoke still curling from the hood. I couldn't help frowning.
"Maybe we should call a cab."
"A cab? Glenda's in there dying and you want to wait for a cab!"
The words came out sharp and cold. Even Chester seemed to hear it.
He didn't apologize. He just opened the car door for me.
I sat in the passenger seat without a word.
Neither of us spoke the entire way to the hospital.
It wasn't until Chester got out that I noticed what was on his seat. A pair of lace underwear.
When I didn't move, his voice turned icy. "What is it now?"
"So what if you're mad at me—Glenda was your college roommate. You're really going to sit here and watch her die?"
The urgency in his voice cracked something open. Everything I'd been holding down surged up at once.
I looked him in the eye. "You want my blood? Then tell me what caused the crash."
Chester, who had been so righteous a second ago, couldn't meet my gaze.
"I was going too fast. Lost control for a second and..."