A/N: Alright, I despise the last chapter--it was flat, boring, and just ick. I'm actually surprised at how many responses it garnered. Thanks for all the reviews, guys, even though it was crap. Anyway, this chapter is in Jude's first person POV instead of third. I like it waaaaay better than the second chapter, but I'd appreciate it if you guys could tell me which style you prefer. Thanks for reading and just enjoying my story! Andjust incase anyone was wondering, the last chapter took place on the samenight as that "eleven months later" with the random characters you guys don't know yet.Also, Jude is eighteen, single, and still recording at G Major. Without further adieu, I present everyone with Chapter 2.

xx

Chapter 2

I stared at my phone, the total length of the just finished call flashing angrily back at me. It only took two minutes and thirty-eight seconds, but I swear time had stopped while Officer Steele was talking to me. Key words floated around my mind as I tried to process the information I had just received.

Accident...Sadie...Stuart...Grace Memorial Hospital...Hurry.

The screen on my cell phone had returned to its regular background by now, and I wondered for a moment if it was all just a dream. Did I really just learn that my father and sister were in a car accident and they were currently at the hospital? That alone had my heart racing from fear, but then the officer just had to tack on that one word--hurry.

He'd only tell me that for one reason and one reason only: Sadie and my dad probably weren't going to make it.

The applause from the most recent award given brought my attention back to what I was really about to face. Looking up, I noticed Tommy staring at me questioningly, and my head began to shift back and forth as I stood up.

"I-I, um, I...I need to go." I stammered, grabbing my clutch purse and clumsily backing away from the table.

"Jude?" I barely heard Tommy ask--I was already gone, moving as fast as my footwear would allow me. My heels were a poor choice for the task of running, but they sure as hell looked great with my dress. Too bad I couldn't care less how I looked at the moment.

Another familiar voice shouted from our table--Kwest--and I barely spared half a second to look back and see what he wanted. His hand was gesturing towards something on the table, but I couldn't quite make out what it was. A glint of light reflecting from the object revealed its identity as my trophy. Kwest was obviously confused as to why I suddenly ran off without it, but I just waved my hand dismissively at it. He could do what he wanted with it--I really didn't care about the hunk of metal and plastic or whatever the heck it was made out of.

If someone had told me that I had left my Grammy to fend for itself, I would have laughed in their face. Who in their right mind would ever ditch a Grammy award? Surely not me. But these weren't normal circumstances, and any ability I had to think rationally had gone out the window when my conversation with Officer Steele had ended. I'd never really realized how someone could be so focused on one thing that they completely forget about everything else--until now. My mind was centered on one thing, and that was getting to Grace Memorial Hospital.

Shoving in the bar to open the heavy door, I stormed into the lobby like someone had a lit a fire under my ass, although it felt more like someone had driven a stake through my heart. However, I didn't hear the familiar click of the door closing behind me, and I twisted my head to see what had prevented it.

"Jude!" Tommy yelled as he rushed forward, hoping to catch me before I crashed into the floor. But he was too late. My body twisted at an awkward angle as the stiletto heel on one of my shoes caught on a step and threw me off balance, causing me to fall to the floor with a very ungraceful--and very painful--thud. I could've sworn it all happened in slow motion, and again I vaguely realized that I probably would've laughed in the situation hadn't been so dire.

By the time Tommy reached me, I had already removed the vile objects from my feet and tossed them away in disgust. Sure, they cost six hundred dollars, but that didn't mean they didn't deserve to be tossed off a cliff into a raging river. The water would definitely ruin them, not to mention all the rocky rapids. Good.

"Holy crap, Jude, are you okay?" Tommy asked anxiously as he reached down to help me up. Honest answer? Hell no, I wasn't okay! But I didn't bother telling him that. I was wasting precious time--time that just might be my last with my father and sister.

"I'm fine." I replied as I stood back up, then crumpled again as a sharp pain shot through my ankle. Thankfully, though, Tommy was still holding my arms and managed to keep me from falling again. I think one giant bruise on my ass was enough for the night, no need to add another.

"Sure you are." Tommy commented sarcastically, doubt clearly evident in every word. His grip remained strong on me, and I was thankful for the outside support since my ankle obviously decided to be a traitor. Of all the times to get a sprained ankle, why did it have to be now?

"I really need to go, Tommy." I pleaded, although neither of us moved. His gaze was piercing into my eyes, and the intensity of it should have unnerved me but I was too numb to notice anything outside of my own little bubble of worry and fear.

"Where, Jude? Where do you need to go so suddenly?" Tommy asked gently with an underlying note of persistence. I knew he wouldn't leave me alone until I gave him a plausible answer. If I'd learned nothing else in the three years I'd known Tom Quincy, it was that he was one damned determined bull dog--once he got his teeth into something, he wouldn't let go until he go what he wanted. And right now, I could tell he wanted answers. I didn't blame him, though--I had just won and a Grammy, and suddenly I'm running out the door without even taking it with me?

"The hospital." I replied weakly, praying he wouldn't ask me to elaborate on my simple but loaded answer. I knew the reality, but it was too soon for me to be able to admit it out loud to someone else.

Concern and worry filled his eyes, and I instantly knew that Tommy would wholehearted offer his shoulder for support should I need it. Since his abrupt departure eleven months ago, he had worked diligently to gain my full trust back. Obviously, Tommy had succeeded in his venture, but he hadn't needed to work very hard for it. Still, it was encouraging to know that he was willing to work to get my trust back.

I swear I could hear a ticking sound in the back of my head.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Time was not on my side. Was it ever, though?

Tommy started to speak again, undoubtedly to ask another question, but I abruptly cut him off. "Look, I have to go; I don't have time for this. I'll explain later, just let me go, please, Tommy." Without waiting for consent, I pried his hands from my arms and turned to walk outside.

Of course, my ankle betrayed me again and gravity was suddenly my worst enemy--besides time, that is.

Tommy's arms were my savior once again, and this time I found myself swooped into them, bridal style. Or baby style, depending on which way you look at it, because I was completely helpless at this point.

He shook his head as he made his way towards the door. "You can't even walk, Jude. Let me drive you, ok?"

I nodded mutely, relieved to not be facing my burden alone. True, Tommy didn't even know why we were going to the hospital yet, but I knew he'd understand completely as soon as I told him.

Much to the amusement and confusion of the ushers and security guards, Tommy carried me from the building into the parking lot, careful not to bump my head on the door frame on the way out.

Several seconds later I found myself being placed into the familiar passenger seat of the Viper, and automatically I reached over my right shoulder to buckle my seat belt. As Tommy slid behind the wheel and secured his own seat belt, he quietly asked, "Which hospital?"

For a minute I stared blankly at him, not comprehending his words. Hospital? What hospital?

Then it all came flooding back, and after reviewing my earlier conversation with the police officer, I barely managed to croak out an answer. "Memorial Grace."

Without another word, Tommy turned the key and the engine of the electric blue car purred to life, and we were off. Answers about the rest of my life awaited me at our destination, and for once, I was afraid to even ask the questions.

Press the pretty purple button. You know you want to.