Three zero four.
I take off down the hall.
“Thank you,” I call over my shoulder.
My shoes squeak against the linoleum. The scent of the hospital—the acrid, pungent scent that I loathe so much—attacks me full force as I try not to run down the corridor.
I count down the room numbers as I go.
Zero eight. Zero seven. Zero six.
That’s not even a fucking room.
Shit.
Zero five.
I find zero four and push open the door.
My stomach heaves.
There she is.
She’s in a bed that’s too big for her. Her face is swollen and purple. A blanket that looks rough and itchy is pulled up to her chin.
Her wrist is curled around a pink bin.
I make my way to the side of her bed. I take her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together and avoiding her IV, and press a kiss to her forehead.
Oh, Dara. I’m so fucking sorry.
My emotions splinter as my heart breaks into two. Fear swamps me with what she’s going to say when she wakes up. And what I’m going to do if she’s seriously hurt.
I close my eyes and brace myself for the flurry of memories to hit me. I know they’re coming. I’ve known since I walked through the automatic doors.
“I don’t know what happened.” Morgan’s eyes plead with me to erase the events of the past few hours. “I couldn’t find you.”
My chest burns as tears well in my eyes.
“It’s bad, Wade. It’s so bad.”
I sit on the doctor’s stool as my knees go weak. I bring Dara’s hand to my lips and press a kiss against it.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to her. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”
I take in her sweet, beautiful face and wonder what happened. Who did this to her?
Her eyelashes flutter. I hold my breath. Slowly, as if it pains them, her eyes open. It takes a second—the longest second of my life—for her to focus on me.
Then a slow, lopsided smile graces her swollen, purple lips.
Thank fuck. She’s okay.
“Wade,” she breathes. “You found me.”
“What happened to you? I was calling and calling, and you weren’t answering.”
She winces as she tries to move.
“Lie still,” I tell her. “Just relax. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
I watch as her body sags in relief. The stiffness she was holding in her limbs releases. Her smile stretches a bit further. The smallest sparkle comes back to her eyes, and I’m so fucking grateful to see it.
I blow out a breath and take her in—repeating over and over that she’s here. She’s okay.
No thanks to me.
“I was at Curt’s,” she says, her forehead wrinkling. Her bottom lip trembles. “He … It was all an act.”
“What was an act?”
“All of it.” She wipes a tear with her free hand. “The house is off. I never want to see him again.”
What the fuck?
Fury mixes with everything else rolling inside me, and if this motherfucker did something to her—I’ll kill him.
“Did he—?”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she says. “Not about him.”
“Okay. Fine. I won’t mention it again.”
She gathers herself before continuing.
“I was driving and crying,” she says, her body starting to shake. “And … I don’t know.” She can barely get the words out. “I saw lights, and then … I woke up here.”
I gently wipe her tears off her face. Each droplet that sneaks down her cheeks is like a knife that sliced her heart.
I knew this could happen. I fucking knew it. I knew Curt Bowery was no good, and I never should’ve let her go there alone.
My jaw clenches as guilt hammers me from every angle.
“Wade?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I’m just worried about you.”
She watches me closely. I have to look away. I can’t let her see how pathetic I am.
“I should’ve been there to protect you,” I tell her while watching the clock on the wall. “I should’ve been there to run interference between you and Bowery.”
“Don’t. I’m glad you weren’t there.”
“I was so scared,” Morgan said. “I lay there thinking that I was going to die either from my injuries or the police trying to cut me out of the car. I just wanted you, and you weren’t there.”
Tears cloud my vision. I refuse to look at Dara.
I love Dara Alden. I’ve stopped myself from thinking it so many times. But seeing her like this has stripped me of the ability to stop it now.
I know that I love her because I would trade places with her without a second thought. I would die for her. I would bleed out in the most horrific way if it kept her from feeling pain.
But the truth of the matter is that I’m the one who caused her this kind of pain because ultimately, I failed her in the same way I failed Morgan.
A solitary tear slips down my face.
I know it’s futile now. I know because I tried my best.
I avoided falling for Dara. I tried to keep her from falling for me. But no matter what I did, the two of us felt inevitable.
I guess this ending was inevitable too. Failing the women I love in tragic ways. It’s what I do.
“Did you happen to talk to my doctor?” she asks with heavy caution in her voice.
I nod, smearing the tear off my face.
“Well, okay,” she whispers.
A nurse pops her head in the door before walking in fully. She smiles sadly at me.
“I hate to tell you this, but visiting hours are over,” she says. “Dara is in stable condition and will probably be released tomorrow. You can come back when visiting hours start at ten in the morning.”
“I can’t leave her alone. She was nearly killed. Look at her.”
“Wade, I’ll be fine,” Dara says.
“Sir, I understand,” the nurse says. “I honestly do. But we’re getting ready to move her upstairs to a room. There’s a strict no visitor policy right now due to the state of the world. I hope you can understand that.”
I hang my head.
When I walk out of here, it’ll give Dara time to think. And if she’s smart, she’ll realize that I let her walk into a lion’s cage alone.
It could’ve killed her.
And she deserves better—so much better.
I stand and kiss her forehead, letting my lips linger against her skin. She reaches up and touches the side of my face. I can feel her body shake as she cries.
I don’t say anything. I don’t know what more I can say. I know I can’t verbalize goodbye, so why speak?
She deserves better. So much better.
With a long glance, I turn on my heel and walk out.
FORTY
WADE
I’ve never watched the sun rise from the kitchen table before.
I’m reminded that it’s where Dara likes to have her coffee so she can feel the warmth of the morning rays. No amount of warmth right now can make me feel alive.
Eliza handled me not coming in today well—better than I expected. I’ve avoided calls from Oliver as well as from my mom. The only call I haven’t gotten is the one I hoped to get: from Dara.
My clothes stink like the hospital. The odor is embedded in my hair, and a shower would do me some good. Except I know she’ll call as soon as my phone isn’t right in front of me.