POV: Asher
I couldn't stop staring at the clock. The stupid thing kept ticking, loud and slow, like it was mocking me. Each click felt like it was counting down to something awful. The hospital smelled weird too—like cleaning supplies and something sour. It made my stomach twist.
I hugged Jared's jacket closer, gripping it so hard my knuckles turned white. My legs were bouncing up and down, and I didn't even notice until Jared reached over and put his hand on my knee.
"Asher, stop," he said, but not in a mean way. More like he was just as tired as I was.
"I can't," I mumbled. My voice sounded weird—small.
I hated that. I hated all of this. My mom was somewhere behind those stupid doors, and no one would tell me anything except, "We're doing everything we can." What did that even mean?
