My brothers stormed Jude—Roan from behind, Lawson and Nash from the sides after tying Shadow to a tree so she wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. But I only had eyes for Wren.
She crumpled as the sound of the shot still echoed in my ears.
Roan was on Jude, hauling him off her as he kicked and screamed.
I fell to the ground, my hands hovering over Wren, scared to even touch her.
“Holt,” she croaked.
I’d never been more relieved to hear a single sound. “Where does it hurt?”
“My ribs,” she wheezed.
I frantically searched her for any signs of blood. But the only thing I saw was her split lip. “Did the bullet hit you? Does it hurt anywhere else?”
Gently, I tugged up her shirt and sucked in a breath. Her side was already turning black and blue.
“It wasn’t Jude’s bullet,” Nash called with a grunt as he wrestled Roan away from Jude. “It was Roan’s.”
Jude howled in pain as Lawson forced him to his stomach and cuffed his hands behind his back. It was then that I saw the blood staining his shirt. Roan had clipped him in the shoulder.
A little of the terror gripping me eased.
“Holt.”
Wren’s voice was barely audible, and my gaze jerked back to her. Panic streaked her eyes as her hand gripped mine. Her lips were a blue shade that stopped my heart.
“Can’t. Breathe.”
I counted the linoleum tiles as I paced up and down the hospital hallway. The number never changed. Twenty-three up. Twenty-three back. But I kept counting. It was the only thing I could do.
The burn was back. The one that had lit my sternum every day since Wren’s attack ten years ago. It had eased since being back in Cedar Ridge, with every day since seeing Wren for the first time and with every little whisper of her she shared with me.
But it had come back in full force now. As Nash and I had done mouth-to-mouth to keep Wren breathing and carried her to the road on a stretcher. As we’d waited for the helicopter to land. And now, as they were cutting Wren open… The burn was turning me to ash.
A hand landed on my shoulder. I looked up to meet my dad’s gaze. He squeezed hard. “She’s going to be okay.”
But he didn’t know that. Not for sure. Wren’s lung had collapsed. The tear in it was so bad they needed to stitch her back together. And she hadn’t regained consciousness since those last words she’d spoken to me. “Can’t. Breathe.”
Dad squeezed my shoulder again, even harder this time. “Don’t go there.”
It was the only place I could go. There and to the dark depths of the knowledge that this was all on me. All because I hadn’t been the kind of friend someone as sick and twisted as Jude had needed. All because I’d hurt him.
“I don’t like that look in your eyes,” Dad said, tugging me farther down the hall. “Talk to me.”
“How can you even look at me?” The question was low, hoarse. As if sandpaper coated the words.
My dad’s eyes flashed. “None of this is on you. Not a damn thing. That boy is sick.”
“He poisoned you. You almost died because I was a crap friend.”
Dad shook his head vehemently. “I almost died because a disturbed person targeted my son. My family. You did nothing but try to help.”
I wanted to hear him. To believe his words. But too much fought against them.
“Holt,” Dad said gruffly. “I’ve seen the change in you over these past couple of weeks. I’ve seen Wren’s love change you. She made you see what no one else could—that this was never on your shoulders.”
It was true. Wren had shown me that we had to face things together, no matter what came our way. Because we were our strongest selves when we had the other backing us up. And even in those most difficult moments, life was never sweeter than when she was by my side.
My throat tightened, and tears burned the backs of my eyes. “I just need her to be okay.”
My dad took both of my shoulders, dipping his head to meet my gaze. “Wren is going to be just fine. So long as she wakes up to you.”
Pain dug its talons into my chest. “I’m not bailing on her.”
“I know that,” he said. “And it’s a good thing because I don’t like to think that I raised an idiot. And if you keep blaming yourself for this, that’s exactly what you are.”
I wanted to laugh. I knew it was what my dad wanted from me, but I couldn’t get my throat to make the sound. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Footsteps sounded, and my gaze caught on the man with the tanned skin and warm smile who had introduced himself to us before Wren’s surgery. I was already moving toward him.
Dr. Sanchez came to a stop in front of me. “Ms. Williams came through the surgery wonderfully.”
I waited for the relief to hit, but it didn’t come. It wouldn’t. Not until I saw those green flecks sparking in her eyes. Not until I heard that uninhibited laugh.
“You fixed her lung?” I pressed.
He nodded. “The tear was moderate. We were able to repair it using minimally invasive techniques, so her recovery from the surgery itself shouldn’t be too bad. But it will take some time for the lung to reinflate.”
I frowned at the doctor. “Her lung not working doesn’t sound like the surgery went wonderfully to me.”
Dad stepped forward. “Apologies for my son. He’s a bit on edge.”
Dr. Sanchez gave me a sympathetic smile. “I get it. Why don’t I take you to her? That way you can be there when she wakes up.”
I felt a flicker of something in my chest and nodded. “Thank you.”
Dad patted my back. “I’ll go loop everyone else in.”
The waiting room on the surgery floor was jam-packed with people who loved Wren. My mom, Nash, Grae. Lawson’s boys: Charlie, Drew, and Luke, even though Lawson had had to stay behind to deal with the aftermath of what had happened. Abel.
I turned, pulling my dad into a hard hug. “Thank you. For everything.”
“I love you, Holt. I know I may not always be there for you in the right way—”
“You show up. You love me. Couldn’t ask for more.”
Tears filled my dad’s eyes as he released me. “Go to our girl. Make sure your face is the first one she sees.”
I jerked my head in a nod and turned to follow the doctor. He led the way to a bank of elevators. But just before we reached them, a familiar figure stepped into the hallway.
Chris gripped the brim of a ballcap, shaping and reshaping it. “Holt.”
My name was a hoarse whisper, more sound than an actual word.
My steps slowed and then halted altogether. I didn’t have the first clue what to say. But Chris spoke before I had a chance.
“I didn’t know. I swear. God. How could he—?” Chris cut himself off with a shake of his head.
“I know you didn’t.”
Chris swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It’s why you called earlier, isn’t it?”
I let out a breath. “I had to be sure. To know if I was walking into a situation with multiple assailants.”
He nodded. “I did that. Being such an asshole to you since you came back. I put that doubt in your head.”
“No. I hurt you. I get that.”
Chris shook his head. “I’m sorry. Holding onto petty bullshit… Such a waste of time.”
At the end of the day, none of us had been the best friends to one another. But every day was a chance to start again. I met Chris’s dark gaze and extended a hand. “I think we both deserve a fresh start. What do you say?”
Chris stared down at my palm and then took it. “I’m glad you’re back. And I know Wren is, too. She never stopped loving you.”
Pain lanced me, a mixture of the good and bad, but I held tight to the good. “Thank you.” I released his hand. “I gotta go see her.”
Chris bobbed his head. “Tell her we’re rooting for her.”
“I will.” I strode to the bank of elevators where the doctor waited, the same set I’d ridden in countless times after my dad’s surgery. If I never saw these fluorescent lights again, it would be too soon.
Dr. Sanchez punched a button for the elevator. “She’s strong. Fought her way back to you. She’s going to come through this.”
“Strongest person I know.”
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside.
“The best ones always are,” he said as if he knew from experience.
We were quiet as the elevator rose, letting us off on the fifth floor. The doctor inclined his head to the left. “This way. Ms. Williams is on a regular floor. If everything goes as planned and her oxygen levels are good, she should be able to go home tomorrow.”
My eyes flared at that. “What about her other injuries?”
“She likely has a mild concussion, but none of the bones in her face are broken. Her cracked ribs will be the worst of her recovery. And that will simply take time. You’ll have to make sure she doesn’t push things too fast.”
“Me and what army?” I muttered.
Dr. Sanchez chuckled. “We’ll make sure to give her strict orders. And the painkillers should make her sleepy. For the next few weeks, the best thing for Ms. Williams will be rest.”
He ushered me into a room. The sun streamed in through the window, illuminating Wren. She looked so damn small in the hospital bed. So fragile.
“She has a heart monitor and IV. The thing on her forefinger helps us track her oxygen.”
I nodded but couldn’t look away from Wren. But I couldn’t move forward either.
The doctor spoke quietly. “Just knowing you’re here will be the best medicine.”
That was all I needed. I strode forward, sinking into the chair at her bedside. Careful not to dislodge the oxygen monitor, I took her hand in mine.
Her skin was cool, not full of her usual vibrance of life. I bent and pressed my lips to her knuckles as if that would restore it all. Scooting my chair closer, I brushed my lips against her temple. “I’m right here, Wren. Just need you with me.”
So much of her face was bruised and scratched. The anger that seared me nearly stole my breath. I struggled to keep my grip on Wren’s hand gentle and keep the rage from my face.
I pictured those hazel eyes in my mind, remembered the feel of her body wrapped around mine. Imagined her laugh.
I lifted her hand to my lips. “Love you, Cricket. Every day. Every minute. Come back to me.”
Wren’s fingers twitched in my hand, and my gaze flew to hers. Her eyelids fluttered as if trying so desperately to open.
“Come on, Cricket. Open those beautiful eyes. Show me you’re with me.”
The fluttering intensified, and then Wren’s eyes opened. I’d never seen anything more beautiful than that mixture of brown and gold and green.
She stared up at me, the green sparking as I’d hoped. “I’m with you.”
